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wide, impede the proceedings very materially. It the moral effect of matrimony, proceeded to exhort is surprising how many horses, mules, and oxen, their flocks to enter into the state, both privately have been sacrificed in the endeavor to establish and from the pulpit; and the negroes, observing this mode of tillage permanently. One of my that they were likely to be looked on more favoraneighbors lost sixteen oxen in ploughing about bly by their pastors, and that the ceremony was twenty acres; and, after all, some hands were sufficiently short and easily gone through, were obliged to go over it with the shovel. In order to soon induced to be married in considerable numget through their work, those who used the plough bers. It is said that several applications were were under the necessity of giving the cattle enor-made to clergymen to undo the knot soon after it mous quantities of oats, in itself an extremely expensive contingent, and to spell (or relieve) them in the middle of the day; so that one set, varying from three to six, was employed no more than four hours at a time. This, rendering so many indispensable, made the general expense as high as that of manual labor, taking the mortality into consideration, and it was not nearly so effectual.

was tied; and that the parties, finding this to be impracticable, speedily disseminated the extraordinary information among the rest, which led to some falling off in the monthly lists of marriages.

Many of them declared at this period that "Marry no for nigga 't all, da Buckra fashion ;" and seemed to have a rooted aversion to it. The custom of the whites, however, and the example In fact, cane culture is more like garden cultiva- which their increasing self-esteem since the era of tion than any other. The drills or cane-holes run emancipation has led them to adopt, have gradually across the beds or space between every two drains. established a marriage on the same footing as They are from two to two and a half feet wide, and among ourselves; an institution which all think from one to two feet deep, according to the soil. they should experience once in their lives. They The earth taken out of them by the shovel is de- go through the ceremony; but I grieve to say posited on a bank of the same width as the hole, that in too many cases it is an idle form. in every (the space between every two holes being so called,) sense of the word. They have generally been on and is used, in weeding, to earth up the young the most intimate footing before-perhaps living plants after the weeds are removed; the bank on together; and it happens too often that they disaone side being taken for that purpose, and on the gree, and, without requiring the sanction of the other as a place on which to deposit the weeds. In law, separate, and take new mates, according to the these holes the cane tops are planted either in a old African habit. My wife has just been shocked double or single row, very much in the same way by such a case in her own household. The houseas potatoes are planted in England; and in about a maid and butler, both young, were married eighteen fortnight the sprouts appear. In six weeks they months ago; we gave them a marriage-dinner and require a first weeding and earthing or moulding; some presents. They continued in our service, ocand in general they need one more moulding and cupying rooms in the offices which were built for weeding, and two weedings without the moulding, our servants; but in the course of six months they before they are considered to be beyond the plant-began to fight, and the noise and tumult in their er's care. In the last weeding, the process of quarter became so frequent, that, after repeated adstripping or trashing is gone through; which con- monitions, I warned them off, and finally they went sists in detaching the dead leaves from the canes, away, he to town to live with another woman, and to allow a free circulation of air. From this brief she to reside with a settler in the new village here. sketch, it is evident that the greatest care is necessary in performing every operation connected with the culture of this plant. If the drains are obstructed in any way, or if they are not cleaned or dug out regularly, the canes will not grow. If the latter are not properly planted, and if the weeding and moulding be not carefully performed, the crop will be very indifferent. Again, if the stripping be done by reckless persons, they will break down canes, and be as destructive as so many cows turned into the field. Indeed, one has only to comprehend the nature of the work that is essential to the proper growth of the cane, to understand how much the planters suffer by the existing disorganization of their laboring population.

Of the improved morals of the negroes Mr. Premium speaks more than doubtfully, and thus explains the statistical returns of marriages, on which much laudation has been built.

More than twenty years ago, the evangelical party in England, scandalized beyond measure at the state of concubinage which prevailed among our black population, inculcated in every way the necessity for marrying them without delay, and the different clergymen were spurred on to bring about this desirable event as often and as speedily as possible. These worthy men, finding that they might subject themselves to the charge of remissness in the discharge of their duties, and some of them actuated, it may be, by the same ideas in regard to

Unhappily, this is not the only instance that has occurred among our domestics within the short space of four years. Our cook, a woman of about forty, six months ago, without any violent quarrel, deserted her husband, a man with only one leg, and went to live with the engineer of the estate-the black one. I mean, a youth of twenty; while his lawful wife, a girl of his own age, by whom he had two children, went to a neighboring estate to reside with a mere lad of about sixteen, who had been working a short time here. The cook and her helpmate had been joined together for at least a dozen years. From these occurrences, in the limited sphere of my establishment, an idea may be formed of the extent to which such enormities pievail over the province. There is little doubt that when the tie becomes in the slightest degree irksome, no sense of impropriety, or feeling of religious awe for the commands of the Most High, will prevent them from separating. In many cases I have heard of, the separation has been made with cordial good humor on both sides. In general, the children, if there are any, go with the mother; in fact, she usually bears the chief burden of their maintenance when the pair live together; and I am of opinion that the wife is the more meritorious of the two in nine cases out of ten-the husband being commonly a tyrant, and forcing the wife, more majorum, to be his slave in the house. He contributes just what he chooses to the funds required for supporting his family, while she must supply what ever is deficient, or brave his wrath, which is vented

usually in blows; and he squanders his gains among | vants were able to dislodge him. I would not percompanions or other women, in drinking and debauchery.

If the writer's style were less literal, the more novel-like parts of the book would have greater interest than the exposition of the losses of the planters, misdoings of the negroes, and the diatribes against all parties at home. The following passage, from a description of the snakes of the colonies, may be taken as an example of Mr. Premium's natural history.

mit them to kill him; and they were both sulky and surprised, when he glided rapidly down the outer steps and on to the lawn without being assailed by every sort of offensive weapon that might come to hand.

From the Examiner.

Judas Iscariot. A Miracle-Play in Two Acts. With other Poems. By R. H. HORNE. Author of "Orion," &c. Ollier.

WE alluded with commendation to these poems soon after they were published. We have since waited for an opportunity of showing how highly our praise was deserved, and cannot find a better than that of the season of solemn festival with which such subjects as Mr. Horne's miracle-play are more peculiarly connected.

Depredations are frequently committed among the ducks of the estates by a variety of the boa peculiar to this part of America, called the camoeny; a snake that takes his prey generally in the water, under which he lurks, with his head up, so as to observe without being observed; and when an aquatic fowl is discovered, he steals upon and Mr. Horne's view of the character of Judas is seizes it. They are of immense size, it is said, in some localities. The largest I have seen was founded on that which has been taken by Archtwenty feet long; it had just swallowed a Muscovy bishop Whately, but which originated, we believe, duck, which it seized in the middle of a numerous in Germany. It supposes that Judas, whose reflock, raising such a noise as brought one to the spot, who saw the snake and gave the alarm. He was shot by repeated fusillades, but not before he had gotten the duck into his gullet. The negroes are not afraid of them, and they eat them with great gusto.

·

morse and suicide are hardly to be accounted for in the ordinary notion of him as a sorry traitor influenced by no greater bribe than a sum of about sixty shillings, precipitated the sentence of his Master, under the impression that he was only hastening the development and triumph of his celestial powers.

"As for Christ's voluntarily submitting to when it was in his power to call in to his aid stripes and indignities, and to a disgraceful death, more than twelve legions of angels,' no such thought," says the archbishop,

66

seems ever to

This one was no sooner floating on the water, without much motion, than the man who owned the prey jumped in and attacked him with a knife, ripping up his throat and stomach, where he found his property only half-way down, and whence he speed ily extracted it. In fact, the protuberance caused by the bird was visible from the bank of the trench. Notwithstanding its great length, this reptile was not thicker than a stout man's leg at the calf. They have occurred to the mind of Judas, any more than are darker than the boas of the east, but beautifully it did to the other apostles. But the marked also with a variety of colors; black, white, difference between Iscariot and his fellow-apostles and brown predominating. Indeed, I would say, from what I have seen, that the venomous snakes was, that, though he had the same expectations are the most revolting in appearance. The blood and conjectures, he dared to act out his conjeosnake is understood to be of this description; and tures; departing from the plain course of his it resembles strongly an enormous earth-worm, being just of that color, and usually from four to six feet long. There is another sort, of a deep grassgreen hue, and of similar length; while the coral snake, from eighteen inches to three feet, glides along among the flowers and shrubs near a house, in the gay colors of scarlet, black, and white, which characterize the substance from which it takes its name. The whip snake is the most familiar with man, being generally found near houses. It is so named from the resemblance it bears to the thong of a whip, and is perfectly innocuous.

Some years ago, when in the colony, and visiting a bachelor friend who lived in a retired situation, I was one day reclining on a sofa and reading, the house being perfectly still, and no person nearer than the kitchen, when a snake of this variety moved so silently into the room that he was in the middle of it before I was aware of his presence. He seemed to look for some things, as if he knew they should be there; insects, probably, for I observed him to pick up a spider. At last he espied me, and, raising his head, in an instant was coiled up instinctively for defence; but immediately afterwards, when I got on my feet, he retreated with great expedition below the sideboard, and contrived to ensconce himself so between it and the wall, that it was only after detaching it the ser

known duty, to follow the calculations of his worldly wisdom and the schemes of his worldly ambition; while they piously submitted to their Master's guidance, even when they understood not the things that He said to them.'"

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In the first act of Mr. Horne's play Judas ac cordingly thus soliloquizes, after having been irritated by the taunting scribes and Pharisees, and longing, in a most un-Christian spirit, to be revenged:

Would I were Christ!-or that the power he holds
So placidly, were given to my hand
For one short hour!

*

The tokens of a season ripe for change
Greater than man e'er dreamed of, fill the sky,
And the earth mutters underneath my feet
"'Tis time! 't is time!" The overthrow and scat-
tering

Of the old thrones, temples, and synagogues,
Halls of injustice, schools of ignorant scribes,
And palaces of pharisaic pride,
Whose owners preach humility-all hang
Upon the breath of Jesus. He passeth on,
Teaching and healing, nor can I discern
One smile of secret consciousness that soon
All this shall end and his true kingdom come.

Somewhat he lacketh. He is great of soul,
Filled with divine power, but too angel-sweet
For turbulent earth and its gross exigencies;
Strong in design, and magnanimity,
Forbearance, fortitude, and lovingness,
He lacketh still the vehement kingly will—
Will, bred of earth and all that it inherits-
To seize the mountain by its forest hair
And whirl it into dust. On that soft plain,
The Temple of his Father-the true Spirit-
Straightway might we erect, and not lie hid
In secret places, like forlorn wild beasts
Who dread the hunter's spear. Why doth he wait?
Would he were seized!-condemned to instant
death-

Set on a brink, and all his hopes for man
Endangered by his fall-till tnese extremes
Drew violent lightning from him!-

Christ is betrayed; none of the consequences
take place which Judas looked for; and the
betrayer again soliloquizes. The poetry
The poetry now
rises in force and passion. Mr. Horne's favorite,
Marlowe, of whom he sometimes reminds us, not
as an imitator but a class-fellow, could not have
surpassed the close of the following passage. It
is a masterly specimen of that most terrible of all
things-the mixture of familiar speech, expressive
of agonized sincerity, with the most portentous sen-
sations of novelty and despair. There is the con-
sciousness that would fain escape from its doom
under the easiest pretences of the possibility of so
doing, with the overwhelming conviction of its
hopelessness and absurdity. We might imagine
a great actor venturing to utter the words, "No
where, lord, no where," with something even of
an idiot smile. Judas has been attempting to tear
up a grave to hide him in; and he enters" with
a handful of earth clutched in his fingers":

Judas. If he, being Son of God, consent to die, Seeming to prove the truth of all their taunts ;If, with the power he hath to smite this cityThe temple, tabernacle, all the hosts

And in especial save him from this nightSee him not-know him not—nor ask for him. (Rising in terror.)

Where is the man called Judas?-where is he?
Thunder is in my brain-the clouds are silent.
No where, Lord!—no where-Judas is no more!
(Voices of a distant crowd.)

In the midst of this despair Judas hears the friends and relations of Christ coming to attend the crucifixion. They pass him, talking of the meekness of the sufferer, and not unobservant of the betrayer. Mary Magdalen, with a finely-conceived return of her once violent feelings, is inclined to curse Judas; and she says:

The grave will utter

A shriek at his approach.

The mother of Christ bids her not "disturb the greatness of the hour." Lazarus passes,

Cold with the shadows of the grave upon him,

and says he will pray for Judas; but not doing so before he disappears, the wretched criminal calls after him not to forget it. Distant sounds are then heard of the ponderous hammers that nail Jesus to the cross, (a grand conception,) and Judas is hurried by them into suicide. He tears up some trailing thorns, which he winds round his neck; and, rushing up into a tree, brings it down with his dying weight, and is covered with its crashing boughs and foliage. An earthquake succeeds; graves open; and the spirits of the dead appear, gazing around them. A more ingenious as well as poetical mode of adhering to the actual nature of the death of Judas, without subjecting it to the mean idea of hanging," could not have been devised.

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This fine conclusion might have been rendered
perhaps still finer, if the sounds of the hammer
had been accompanied by the sudden darkness
which is said to have followed on Christ's death.
The first blow might have smitten the scene into
night-time, and Judas then been made visible again
by lightning. But Mr. Horne may have thought,
and with reason, that this would have rendered the
consummation of the deed itself improbable;—
too likely to scare away the executioners.
ology, on the other hand, may be ready with a
reply to this; and, indeed, there is no end to

And men of valor-pharisees, scribes, priests-
He will not speak-he will not lift his hand ;-
If truly, God, in him, can with a thought
Bring earthquake underneath Jerusalem,
To swallow all, save his own chosen flock-
Yet he consent meekly to be nailed down
Upon a felon's cross, which they have sworn
To plant on yonder mount, between two thieves,
There, 'midst revilings, taunts, and jeers, to die-
The drooping head, the languishing swoll'n limbs-questions of the kind theological or critical.
He-our Lord Jesus-whom I have betrayed,
Dying this death-O God, the Eternal Eye!
Scorch up this reasoning-blight each maddening

sense

Confuse my life with any creeping thing,
So that I know it not-make me a stone,
Wherefrom no iron-heel shall strike one spark-
Make me a darkness!-let me melt to rain,
And steal beneath the earth! I hear them coming!
(JUDAS drops on his knees.)

Seest thou, Jehovah, him thou fashionedst
With strength and order, what he hath become?
A wild and hideous perplexity.

That hideth from himself! Oh, pass him by,
E'en as this clot of earth, which he scraped up
To look for death, and leave this upper hell-

The

We need not add anything to what we have intimated in the course of our criticism respecting this miracle-play. We shall only state, that, on our first perusal of it, we thought it too short to exhibit the whole history and character of Judas; but, on reading it again, we became sensible of its sufficiency of matter, as well as abundant power of treatment; and we are of opinion that no reader of sacred history, or lover of poetry, should fail to possess himself of the little book of sixty-four pages which contains a poem so full of grandeur and passion.

Nor is this, by any means, its whole value; for the miracle-play is followed by a set of minor poems, the best that Mr. Horne has written. They

do him that final justice which he has too often withheld from himself by an over-ambitious haste and a neglect of study and selection. He has been too much in the habit of setting his will before his judgment; of supposing that genius can dispense with the taste and training to be gathered from books and scholarship; of crowding thought upon thought, and image upon image, for the sake of proving his resources, without sufficiently heeding either complete relevancy in the matter or propriety in the manner. The fault has been analogous to what is called want of keeping by painters, and by

society want of tact. None of Mr. Horne's larger

works, not even his Orion, in which there are things worthy of the greatest poets, have been altogether free from this fault; perhaps none of his previous works at all, with the exception of the Death of Marlowe. But he seems at length to have felt, if not critically discerned, his way out of it. We hope he has done both, in order that his future footing may be as sure as his powers and his sympathies deserve to be; and, to this end, we would exhort him, whenever he doubts the propriety of anything he is about to write, and particularly if specially inclined to write it, to construe the doubt against himself. He can afford it; having a rich remainder, of the finest kind, to merit our praise and thanks. Nothing else could set him right in his poetical workmanship, but a course of the severest critical reading, with all scholarly helps to boot and we doubt if even this would suffice, unless he could begin with suspecting the fallibility of certain of his moods of mind.

Away he sped with shimmering glee!

Dim, indistinct-now seen-now gone,
Night comes, with wind and rain-and he
No more will dance before the morn—
Far out at sea.

He dies unlike his mates, I ween;

Perhaps not sooner, nor worse crossed;
And he hath felt, and known, and seen,
A larger life and hope-though lost,
Far out at sea!

THE SLAVE.-A SEA-PIECE, OFF JAMAICA.

(Before the Abolition.)
Before us in the sultry dawn arose

Indigo-tinted mountains; and ere noon
We neared an isle that lay like a festoon
And shared the ocean's glittering repose.
We saw plantations spotted with white huts;
Estates midst orange groves and towering trees,
Plots of intense gold freaked with shady nuts.
Rich yellow lawns embrowned by soft degrees;

A dead hot silence tranced sea, land, and sky:
And now a low canoe came gliding forth,
Wherein there sat an old man fierce and swarth,
Tiger-faced, black-fanged, and with jaundiced eye.
Pure white, with pale blue chequered, and red fold
Of head-cloth 'neath straw brim, this Master

wore;

While in the sun-glare stood with high-raised oar
A naked Image all of burnished gold.
Golden his bones-high-valued in the mart—
His minted muscles, and his glossy skin;
Golden his life of action-but within
The slave is human in a bleeding heart.

FROM Upsala an account is given of a curious glimpse into the past conceded to high-born curiosity. The Dukes of East Gotha and Dalecarlia, students at that University, conceived a desire to look bodily on the mortal remains of Gustavus Vasa, -which lie in the vaults of the cathedral of that city. Accordingly, by special authorization of the king, the marble sarcophagus containing the body the long dead. The historical lesson which they was opened, that the young princes might look upon

We conclude with selecting, from the miscellaneous poems before us, two sea-pieces of different characters, the one admirable for what may be called its light pathos, the other for its strength and coloring. The first, with its ritornello, (which renders it a kind of serious rondeau,) is touched with all the airy grace of a musician. The second has the solidity and splendor of one of the Venetian painters. Both appear to have been written in the scenes which they describe; for one of Mr. Horne's best trainings as a poet has been his ex-sought they found not-but they found another. perience of remote countries.

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"And he said unto her, What form is he of? And she said, An old man cometh up, but his face is covered with a mantle." Decay has shut the lineaments of Gustavus Vasa beyond the opening of even the royal key. The body was a skeleton-but the garments of velvet and silk, with gold and silver brocade, were fresh. The crown, the sceptre, the globe, the ornaments of the scabbard inclosing the royal sword, and the massive golden buckles of the girdle and shoes adorned with precious stones, were still entire-but muscle and sinew were rotted away. The baubles lavished to illustrate the dead were there to mock him.-There is worse teaching for a prince than that which the young dukes got by the open tomb of Gustavus Vasa. Such a proclamation of the earthly style and titles, in such a presence, must have gone direct to the heart of even youth. The text was there, with its comment; the triumphal shout, with its echo-for echo is always a sigh, even when it repeats the voice of triumph.

From the Spectator.

URQUHART'S PILLARS OF HERCules.*

A BIG boy with a turn for paradox, who had managed to take a leaf out of Mr. Disraeli's last book, might have written one part of The Pillars of Hercules at school. The phenomena of the Mediterranean and its currents (what becomes of the water? what becomes of the salt?)-some salient points in the history of the peoples who formerly visited the aforesaid sea or inhabited its shores-bits of Spanish and of Moorish story, with a tediously long commentary-a comparison between the inhabitants of Barbary and of Europe, greatly to the advantage of the Africans (Mr. Urquhart claiming for the Moors the preeminence which Mr. Disraeli assigns to the Jews)—the tale of the capture of Gibraltar by the British and Dutch, with sundry assertions (in matters of diplomacy the Urquhart decrees, not argues) as to the mischief of the fortress to Great Britain, &c. -might all have been written for a theme, with the subject "given out," and the full flowing style once acquired. Other topics of the volume might possibly require the suggestion of the reality to set the writer's pen going. Mr. Urquhart takes an oriental bath; and thereupon writes a disquisition on bathing among the Romans, the Moors, and the Orientals, and non-bathing among some other peoples, ourselves included, with a passing touch on cheap bath-houses, and the Mosaic and Moslem notions of uncleanliness. The traveller went on a sporting excursion, though he seems to have killed nothing; but he ate of the national dish called kuscoussoo, and anon he favors the reader with the whole story of it; how it is made, which is practical information-how to eat it-what authors have said of it-bread compared with kuscoussoo; including a digression upon wheat and its original country, which is not known to Urquhart, but he makes up for it by describing the origin of the "damper" of New South Wales, says a word on Indian corn, pronounces "England in the art of cookery behind every other people," informs the world that pilaf is never eatable "when made by a Christian," and closes the topic with some remarks on teeth. In the course of his excursions Mr. Urquhart set eyes on the Moorish haïk; which he traces to the garden of Eden, to father Abraham, to the Jews in the wilderness, to the Greeks, to the Romans.

cast up; and here, like the moon, these things are found which are lost elsewhere.

site for

A shuttle and loom to weave, pins to knit, scissors to cut, or needles and thread to sew, are requithem all; it is a web, but not wove (in the modevery other dress. The haik dispenses with ern sense of the word); it is a covering, but neither cut nor stitched. When Eve had to bethink herself of a durable substitute for innocence, this is what she must have hit upon. The name it bears is such as Adam might have given had he required it in Paradise-"that which is wove," i. e., web. It is only a web, yet is it coat, great-coat, troufor all and everything in one. Being but the simsers, petticoat, under and over garment, enough plest of primitive inventions, it outvies in beauty, and overmatches in convenience, the succeeding centuries of contrivance and art; it completes the circle-the last step being not to return to, but merely to perceive the beauty of the first conception, and yield a barren and aesthetic applause to the perfection of the primitive design. you heard of any other people having the one, you would inquire whether they had not also the other. Here in one sentence is it shown that the Jews, when they entered the wilderness, had both.

The haïk and the kuscoussoo are here united. If

If they wore the haïk in the wilderness, they had it when they entered the Holy Land; for, as they did not want new clothes, so would they not change old habits. The people they drove forth were the Brebers, who wear it to-day. The Jews went to Egypt from the Holy Land. Abraham, therefore, wore the haïk; and, having seen him in that dress, I can imagine him in no other.

It belongs but to a small portion of the human family to have a change of raiment for the night—a striking peculiarity of this dress is its adaptation to both purposes.

The Greek robe was white; it was put on as a clothing, and was at the same time a covering such as might be used to sleep in at night. It was not put on to fit as a dress; it was ample in its folds, and fell to the feet; it covered them all over. But citation of authorities is superfluous-look at the statue of Demosthenes.

But the Greeks may have invented it. The Greeks were copiers, or copies; they improved what they received, but in the beginning they were wild and rude. This dress belongs to early simplicity, and to the people who from the first were preeminent in poetry.

and haik, that the only question is, "Was it origThe resemblance is so evident between the toga inal or borrowed?" and, if borrowed, "Whence did it come?" As the Greeks stood to the Phonicians, so did the Roman to the Etruscans. Critical inquiries had already traced that people to with them. Their tombs, into which a lady has Canaan; recent discoveries have made us familiar conducted us, transport us to the life and manners of the Old Testament. A traveller in Barbary might take them for the ancient sepulchres of this country. In the tombs you have over and over again the haïk.

If Prometheus had set himself down to consider, not how many things he could invent for man, but what single invention would serve him most, he might have fixed on the haïk. It is not known in Arabia, Judæa, or any part of the East; it is mentioned by no ancient writer; yet on its intrinsic characters I claim for it the rank of first parent of costume. It is found in Barbary. Who, then, Enough of this. There are in the volumes shall assign to it a date? The region is a nook in not perhaps better things, but things more approthe ocean of time, where the wrecks of all ages are priate to travel-accounts of interviews with va*The Pillars of Hercules; or a Narrative of Travels rious adventurers whom crime or misfortune has in Spain and Morocco, in 1848. By David Urquhart, carried to Africa, or with persons in some official Esq., M. P., Author of "Turkey and its Resources," "The Spirit of the East," &c. In two volumes. Pub-capacity. There are also descriptions of nature lished by Bentley. and of art, though the kind of digression and dis

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