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Hindhead; he swears that he will not go supplied with joint stools?” Now, he over it; and he tells us very amusingly sighs, there is a parlor ! ay, and a how, in spite of himself, he found himself carpet and bell-pull, too! and a mahogany on the very “tip top” of it, in a pelting table, and the fine chairs, and the fine rain, owing to an incompetent guide. glass, and all as barefaced upstart as any But he loves the woodlands, and the stock-jobber in the kingdom can boast downs, and bursts into vivid enthusiasm of !” Probably the farmhouse has folat fine points of view. He is specially lowed the furniture, and, meanwhile, what ecstatic in White's country. “On we has become of the fine old British hospitrotted,” he says, “ up this pretty green tality when the farmer and his lads and lane, and, indeed, we had been coming lasses dined at one table, and a solid Engently and gradually up-bill for a good glishman did not squeeze money out of while. The lane was between high banks, his men's wages to surround himself with and pretty high stuff growing on the trumpery finery? banks, so that we could see no distance To say the truth, Cobbett's fine flow of from us, and could receive not the small. invective is a little too exuberant, and est bint of what was so near at hand. overlays too deeply the picturesque touchThe lane had a little turn towards the es of scenery and the occasional bits of end, so that we came, all in a moment, at autobiography which recall his boyish exthe very edge of the hanger; and never perience of the old country life. It would in my life was I so surprised and de- be idle to inquire how far his vision of lighted! I pulled up my horse, and sat the old English country had any foundaand looked. It was like looking from the tion in fact. Our bills and fields may be top of a castle down into the sea, except as lovely as ever; and there is still ample that the valley was land and not water. "I room for the lovers of “nature” in Scotch looked at my servant to see what effect moors and lochs, or even an.ongst the this unexpected sight had upon him. His English fells, or among the storm beaten surprise was as great as mine, though he cliffs of Devon and Cornwall. But nahad been bred amongst the north Hamp- ture, as I have said, is not the country. shire hills. Those who have so strenu. We are not in search of the scenery which ously dwelt on the dirt and dangers of appears now as it appeared in the remote this road have said not a word about the days when painted savages managed to beauties, the matchless beauties, of the raise a granite block upon its supports scenery: And Cobbett goes on to de- for the amusement of future antiquarians. scribe the charms of the view over Sel. We want the country which bears the inborne, and to fancy what it will be " when press of some characteristic social growth; trees, and hangers, and hedges are in leaf, which has been moulded by its inhabitthe corn waving, the meadows bright, and ants as the inhabitants by it, till one is as the hops upon the poles,” in language much adapted to the other as the lichen to which is not after the modern style of the rock on which it grows. How bleak word-painting, but excites a contagious and comfortless a really natural country enthusiasm by its freshness and sincerity. may be is apparent to the readers of He is equally enthusiastic soon afterwards Thoreau. He had all the will to become at the sight of Avington Park and a lake a part of nature, and to shake himself swarming with wild fowl; and complains free from the various trammels of civilof the folly of modern rapid travelling. ized lise, and he had no small share of "In any sort of carriage you cannot get the necessary qualifications; but one caninto the real country places. To travel in not read his account of his lise by Walden stage-coaches is to be hurried along by Pond without a shivering sense of disforce in a box with an air-hole in it, and comfort. He is not really acclimatized; constantly exposed to broken limbs, the so far from being a true child of nature, danger being much greater than that of he is a man of theories, a product of the shipboard, and the noise much more dis. social state against which he tries to agreeable, while the company is frequently revolt. He does not so much relish the not a great deal more to one's liking.” wilderness as go out into the wilderWhat would Cobbett have said to a rail. ness in order to rebuke his contempoway? And what has become of the old raries. There is something harsh about farmhouse on the banks of the Mole, once him and his surroundings, and he affords tive home of “plain manners and plentiful an unconscious proof that something living," with * oak clothes - chests, oak more is necessary for the civilized man bedsteads, oak chests of drawers, and oak who would become a true man of the tables to eat on, long, strong, and well! woods than simply to strip off his clothes.

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He has got tolerably free from tailors ; | selves blended with the characteristics of but he still lives in the intellectual atmo- the average Englishman. The result is sphere of Cambridge debating-rooms. a strange and yet, in a way, liarmonious

To find a life really in harmony with a and original type, which made “ The Bible rustic environment, we must not go to in Spain" a puzzle to the average reader. raw settlements where man is still fight. The name suggested a work of the edifying with the outside world, but to some ing class. Here was a good respectable region where a reconciliation has been emissary of the Bible Society going to worked out by an experience of centuries. convert four Papists by a distribution of And amidst all the restlessness of inod- the Scriptures. He has returned to write ern improvers we may still find a few a long tract setting forth the difficulties of regions where the old genius has not been his enterprise, and the stiff-neckedness of quite exorcised. Here and there, in coun- the Spanish people. The luckless readtry lanes, and on the edge of unenclosed er who took up the book on that undercommons, we may still meet the gipsy standing was destined to a strange the type of a race adapted to live in the disappointment. True, Mr. Borrow apinterstices of civilization, having some- peared to take his enterprise quite serithing of the indefinable grace of all wild ously, indulges in the proper reflections, animals, and yet free from the absolute and gets into the regulation difficulty savagery of the genuine wilderness. To involving an appeal to the British minismention gipsies is to think of Mr. Bor- ter. But it soon appears that his Protrow; and I always wonder that the author estant zeal is somehow mixed up with a of “The Bible in Spain” and “ Laven- passion for strange wanderings in the gro is not more popular. Certainly, I queerest of company. To him Spain is have found no more delightful guide to not the land of staunch Catholicism, or the charming nooks and corners of rural of Cervantes, or of Velasquez, and still England. I would give a good deal to less a country of historic or political interidentify that remarkable dingle in which est. Its attraction is in the picturesque he met so singular a collection of char- outcasts who find ample roaming-ground acters. Does it really exist, I wonder, in its wilder regions. He regards them, anywhere on this island ? or did it ever it is true, as occasional subjects for a exist ? and, if so, has it become a rail- little proselytism. He tells us how he way-station, and what has become of Iso- once delivered a moving address to the pel Berners and“ Blazing Bosville, the gipsies in their own language to his most Haming Tinman”? His very name is as promising congregation. When he had good as a poem, and the battle in which finished, he looked up and found himself Mr. Borrow floored the Tinman by that the centre of all eyes, each pair contorted happy left-handed blow, is, to my mind, by a hideous squint, rivalling each other more delightful than the fight in “ Tom in frightfulness; and the performance, Brown,” or that in which Dobbin acted which he seems to bave thoroughly appreas the champion of Osborne. Mr. Bor- ciated, pretty well expressed the gipsy row is a “humorist” of the first water. view of his missionary enterprise. But He lives in a world of his own — a queer they delighted to welcome him in his world with laws peculiar to itself, and other character as one of themselves, and yet one which has all manner of odd and yet as dropping amongst them from the unexpected points of contact with the hostile world outside. And, certainly, no prosaic world of daily experience. Mr. one not thoroughly at home with gipsy Borrow's Bohemianism is no revolt ways, gipsy modes of thought, to whom it against the established order. He does comes quite naturally to put up in a den not invoke nature or fly to the hedges of cutthroats, or to enter the field of his because society is corrupt or the world missionary enterprise in company with a unsatisfying, or because he has some professional brigand travelling on busikind of new patent theory of life to work ness, could have given us so singular a

He cares nothing for such fancies. glimpse of the most picturesque elements On the contrary, he is a staunch con- of a strange country. Your respectable servative, full of good old-fashioned prej. compiler of handbooks might travel for udices. He seems to be a case of the years in the same districts all unconscious strange reappearance of an ancestral in- that passing vagabonds were so fertile in stinct under altered circumstances. Some romance. The freemasonry which exists of his forefathers must have been gipsies amongst the class lying outside the pale by temperament if not by race; and the of respectability enables Mr. Borrow to impulses due to that strain have got them- | fall in with adventures full of mysterious

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fascination. He passes through forests course of his search for the hidden treas. at night and his horse suddenly stops and ure at Compostella. Men who live in trembles, whilst he hears beavy footsteps strange company learn the advantage of and rustling branches, and some heavy not asking questions, or following out body is apparently dragged across the delicate inquiries; and these singular fig. road by panting but invisible bearers. ures are the more attractive because they He enters a shadowy pass, and is met by come and go, half revealing themselves a man with a face streaming with blood, for a moment, and then vanishing into who implores him not to go forwards into outside mystery; as the narrator himself the hands of a band of robbers; and Mr. sometimes merges into the regions of Borrow is too sleepy and indifferent to absolute commonplace, and then dives stop, and jogs on in safety without meet- down below the surface into the remotest ing the knife which he half expected. “It recesses of the social labyrinth. was not so written,” he says, with the In Spain there may be room for such genuine fatalism of your hand-to

mouth wild adventures. In the trim, orderly Bohemian. He crosses a wild moor with English country we might fancy they had a half-witted guide, who suddenly deserts gone out with the fairies. And yet Mr. him at a little tavern. After a wild gallop Borrow meets a decayed pedlar in Spain

a on a pony, apparently half-witted also, he who seems to echo his own sentiments; at last rejoins the guide resting by a foun- and tells him that even the most prostain. This gentleman condescends to perous of his tribe who have made their explain that he is in the habit of bolting fortunes in America, return in their after a couple of glasses, and never stops dreams to the green English lanes and till he comes to running water. The con- farmyards. "There they are with their genial pair lose themselves at nightfall, boxes on the ground displaying their goods and the guide observes that if they should to the honest rustics and their dames meet the estadéa, which are spirits of the and their daughters, and selling away and dead riding with candles in their hands —chaffering and laughing just as of old. a phenomenon happily rare in this region And there they are again at nightfal!

- he shall “run and run till he drowns in the hedge alehouses, eating their himself in the sea, somewhere near Mu-toasted cheese and their bread, and ros.” The estadéa do not appear, but drinking the Suffolk ale, and listening to Mr. Borrow and his guide come near the roaring song and merry jests of the being hanged as Don Carlos and a nephew, laborers." It is the old picturesque escaping only by the help of a sailor who country life which fascinates Mr. Bor. knows the English words knife and fork, row, and he was fortunate enough to and can therefore testify to Mr. Borrow's plunge into the heart of it before it had nationality; and is finally liberated by an been frightened away by the railways. official who is a devoted student of Jeremy Lavengro" is a strange medley, which Bentham. The queer stumbling upon a is nevertheless charming by reason of name redolent of every-day British life, the odd idiosyncrasy which fits the throws the surrounding oddity into quaint author to interpret this fast-vanishing relief. But Mr. Borrow encounters more phase of life. It contains queer contromysterious characters. There is the won- versial irrelevance conversations drous Abarbenelt, whom he meets riding stories which may or may not be more by night, and with whom he soon becomes or less founded on fact, tending to illushand and glove. Abarbenelt is a huge trate the pernicious propagandisin of figure in a broad-brimmed hat, who stares Popery, the evil done by Sir Walter at him in the moonlight with deep, calm Scott's novels, and the melancholy reeyes, and still revisits him in dreams. sults of the decline of pugilism. And He has two wives and a hidden treasure then we have satire of a simple kind of old coins, and when the gates of his upon literary craftsmen, and excursions house are locked, and the big dogs loose into philology which show at least an in the court, he dines off ancient plate amusing dash of innocent vanity. But made before the discovery of America. I the oddity of these quaint utterances of There are many of his race amongst the a humorist who seeks to find the most priesthood, and even an archbishop, who congenial mental food in the Bible, the died in great renown for sanctity, had Newgate Calendar, and in old Welsh litcome by night to kiss his father's hand. erature, is in thorough keeping with the Nor can any reader forget the singular situation. He is the genuine tramp history of Benedict Mol, the wandering whose experience is naturally made up Swiss, who turns up now and then in the of miscellaneous waiss and strays; who

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drifts into contact with the most eccen- with him, and hears that Mrs. Herne has tric beings, and parts company with hanged herself, and celebrates the meetthem at a moment's notice, or catching ing by a fight without gloves, but in pure bold of some stray bit of out-of-the-way friendliness, and then settles down to knowledge follows it up as long as it the life of a blacksmith in his secluded amuses him. He is equally at home dingle. compounding narratives of the lives of Certainly it is a queer, topsy-turvy world eminent criminals for London booksel- to which we are introduced in “ Lavenlers, or making acquaintance with thim. gro.” It gives the read the sensation bleriggers, or pugilists, or Armenian mer- of a strange dream in which all the mischants, or becoming a hermit in bis cellaneous population of caravans and remote dingle, making his own shoes wayside tents make their exits and enand discussing theology with a postboy, trances at random, mixed with such eccena feminine tramp, and a Jesuit in districs as the distinguished author, who has guise. The compound is too quaint for a mysterious propensity for touching odd fiction, but is made interesting by the objects as a charin against evil. All one's quaint vein of simplicity and the touch of ideas are dislocated when the centre of genius which brings out the picturesque interest is no longer in the thick of the side of his roving existence, and yet crowd, but in that curious limbo whither leaves one in doubt how far the author drift all the odd personages who live in appreciates his own singularity. One old the interstices without being caught by gipsy lady in particular, who turns up at the meshes of the great network of ordiintervals, is as fascinating as Meg Merri- nary convention. Perhaps the oddity lies, and at once made lifelike and more repels many readers; but to me it always mysterious. “My came is Herne, and I seems that Mr. Borrow's dingle reprecomes of the hairy ones!” are the remark. sents a little oasis of genuine romance able words by which she introduces her- a kind of half-visionary fragment of fairyself. She bitterly regrets the intrusion land, which reveals itself like the enof a Gentile into the secrets of the Ro-chanted castle in the Vale of St. John, and manies, and relieves her feelings by then vanishes after tantalizing and arousadministering poison to the intruder, and ing one's curiosity. It will never be again then trying to poke out his eye as he is discovered by any flesh-and-blood travlying apparently in his last agonies. eller; but in my imaginary travels, I like But she seems to be highly respected by to rusticate there for a time, and to feel her victim as well as by her own peo- as if the gipsy was the true possessor of ple, and to be acting in accordance with the secret of life, and we who travel by the moral teaching of her tribe. Her de- rail and read newspapers and consider sign is frustrated by the appearance of a ourselves to be sensible men of business, Welsh Methodist preacher, who, like were but vexatious intruders upon this every other strange being, is at once com- sweet dream. There must, one supposes, pelled to unbosom himself to this odd be a history of England from the Petuconfessor. He fancies himself to have lengro point of view, in which the change committed the unpardonable sin at the of dynasties recognized by Hume and Mr. age of six, and is at once comforted by Freeman, or the oscillations of power beMr. Borrow's sensible observation that tween Lord Beaconsfield and Mr. Glad. he should not care if he had done the stone, appear in relative insignificance as same thing twenty times over at the same more or less affecting certain police reguperiod. The grateful preacher induces lations and the enclosure of commons. It his consoler to accompany him to the bor- is pleasant for a time to feel as though ders of Wales; but there Mr. Borrow the little rivulet were the main stream, suddenly stops on the ground that he and the social outcast the true centre of should prefer to enter Wales in a suit of society. The pure flavor of the country superfine black, mounted on a powerful life is only perceptible when one has ansteed like that which bore Greduv to the nihilated all disturbing influences; and in fight of Catrath, and to be welcomed at a that little dingle with its solitary forge dinner of the bards, as the translator of beneath the woods haunted by the hairy the odes of the great Ab Gwilym. And Hernes, that desirable result may be Mr. Petulengro opportunely turns up at achieved for a time, even in a London the instant, and Mr. Borrow rides back library.

A FORGOTTEN HERO.

S

From Fraser's Magazine. think of the affairs of his kingdom, and

by his defeat and imprisonment he was

sufficiently exasperated against Spain to The name of Jacques Cartier, first ex- feel a lively jealousy of her achievements plorer of the St. Lawrence, remains to in the new world. He had already sent this day in Canada an honored name and out one expedition under Verazano, but very little more – in France it is almost with no satisfactory results. He seems entirely forgotten — in England almost at once to have received the idea favor. entirely unknown. Yet, born in a time of ably, and agreed to furnish the Malouin great possibilities and of great deeds, the captain with two ships and all that was man who bore that name was well worthy necessary for his voyage. of remembrance, not only because he was On April 20, 1534, Cartier sailed from in his own person a true hero, brave, St. Malo. We cannot follow the course honest, and God-fearing, but also because of his voyage here, though his own narrahe gave to France a territory larger than tive, simple, direct

, full of every kind of all Europe, and laid for England the first useful detail, and empty of all self-glorififoundation of a colony which is almost an cation, is exceedingly tempting. He folempire.

lowed in the track of John Cabot, until on Of a family long settled and well known May 11 he reached Newfoundland (or in the busy town of St. Malo, Jacques Terre Neuffue, as he writes it), and from Cartier was born at that place on Decem- thence explored the coasts north and ber 31, 1494. Scarcely anything is known south of that island. So discouraging, of his boyhood, but since the port was full however, was the result of this exploraof seafaring men his first recollections tion that he writes in his journal: “It were, no doubt, associated with marvel- ought not to be called a new land, but a lous stories of the newly discovered west- mass of rocks and stones, terrible and ern India, and of the mysterious northern roughly piled together. In fact, I am seas, ice-laden and fog-veiled, through much inclined to think that this is the which there must surely be somewhere land God gave to Cain.” Still he could the passage to Cathay. While he was not consider his labor lost, since those still a child, fishermen from St. Malo had inhospitable rocks might yet hide the begun to go with those of Dieppe and wished-for western passage. other ports to fish for cod, sailing boldly It was near the end of June when the out into the still almost unknown ocean two small ships discovered pleasanter in frail little barks built only for coasting regions and safe harbors. From that voyages. As he grew up he joined some moment Cartier changed his opinion of of these expeditions, and evidently pros- the new country, and his pages are full of pered, for at twenty-five we find him a accounts of its beauty and fertility. He person of some consequence, master of a made the acquaintance of some friendly little Manoir of Lemoilou, and husband of Indians, and persuaded them to entrust the Demoiselle Catherine des Granches. to him two boys (apparently of their chief's

It was not, however, until 1534, when family) to be taken to France. He erected Cartier was forty years of age, that his a great wooden cross with much solemnity first great enterprise was undertaken. At on Cape Gaspé, and then, winter apthat time he boldly presented himself to proaching, and the navigation again bePhilippe de Chabot - Brion, admiral of coming difficult, he turned homewards, France, proposing to go and explore, in and reached St. Malo safe and well on the king's name, and for his Majesty's September 5. benefit, the shores of Terre-Neuve. This So well satisfied was King Francis with name seems to have been given, rather what had been done on this first voyage vaguely, to the coast of North America that he at once resolved to send out anfrom Labrador to the south of Cape other expedition in the following year, Breton, and Cartier thought that a coast and to place the command in the same so broken, and hitherto so little known, capable hands. Cartier received the title might perhaps conceal that passage to of Capitaine Général et Pilote du Roy," India, to discover which would be fame and was provided with three ships, each indeed. De Chabot was one of the king's with its captain and crew, and permitted oldest and most intimate friends; to ob- to take with him a number of volunteers, tain his patronage was almost to secure many of them young men of good family. the permission needed. The time of the The two Indian boys were also on board proposal, too, was fortunate. The Treaty the ships, which sailed from St. Malo on of Cambrai had left Francis at leisure to May 19, 1535.

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