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united a degree of ability, of prudence, and dauntless spirit, seldom equalled, and never surpassed. Honorary colours, with a suitable device, were ordered to be presented to the corps of cavalry and infantry employed on the occasion; and the names of the brave officers and men who fell at the battle, would, it was said, be commemorated, together with the circumstances of the action, upon a public monument, to be erected at Fort William to the memory of those who had fallen in the public service during the present campaign.
General Wellesley, in this memorable campaign, received the first fruits of those honours, of which he was one day to reap so abundant a harvest. The inhabitants of the city of Calcutta presented him with a sword; his own officers with a golden vase; in England, the thanks of Parliament were voted him, and he was made a Knight Companion of the Bath. The people of Seringapatam presented an address to him on his return, (for he was Governor of that place,) in which they expressed their gratitude to him, in the most pleasing terms; They had reposed for five years, they said, under the shadow of his protection: they had felt, during his absence in the midst of battles and victory, that his care for their welfare had been extended to them, as amply as if no other object had occupied his mind: they were preparing in their several castes, the duties of thanksgiving and of sacrifices to the preserving God, who had brought him back in safety, and they implored the God of all castes and of all nations, to hear their constant prayer, whenever greater affairs should call him from them, for his health, his glory, and his happiness.
They who gird themselves for the business of the world, should go to it with a sense of the utility, the importance, the necessity, and the duty of their exertions. Southey.
The love of flowers seems a naturally-implanted passion, without any alloy or debasing object as a motive: the cottage has its pink, its rose, its polyanthus: the villa, its geranium, its dahlia, and its clematis: we cherish them in youth, we admire them in declining days; but, perhaps, it is the early flowers of spring that always bring with them the greatest degree of pleasure; and our affections seem immediately to expand at the sight of the first opening blossom under the sunny wall, or sheltered bank, however humble its race may be. In the long and sombre months of winter, our love of nature, like the buds of vegetation, seems closed and torpid; but like them, it unfolds and reanimates with the opening year, and we welcome our long-lost associates with a cordiality, that no other season can excite, as friends in a foreign clime. The violet of autumn is greeted with none of the love with which we hail the violet of spring; it is unseasonable: perhaps it brings with it rather a thought of melancholy than of joy; we view it with curiosity, not affection; and thus the late is not like the early rose. It is not intrinsic beauty or splendour that so charms us, for the fair maids of spring cannot compete with the grander matrons of the advanced year; they would be unheeded, perhaps lost, in the rosy bowers of summer and of autumn; no, it is our first meeting with a long-lost friend, the reviving glow of a natural affection, that so warms us at this season: to maturity they give pleasure, as a harbinger of the renewal of life, a signal of awakening nature, or of a higher promise: to youth, they are expanding beings, opening years, hilarity and joy; and the child let loose from the house, riots in the flowery mead, and is
"Monarch of all he surveys." There is not a prettier emblem of spring than an infant sporting in the sunny field, with its osier basket wreathed with butter-cups, orchises, and daisies. With summer flowers we seem to live as with our neighbours, in harmony and good-will: but spring flowers are cherished as private friendships. Journal of a Naturalist.
THE ARABS AND THE DATE-TREE.
When I looked on the desert arid plains, which lie between Abusheher and the mountains, and saw the ignorant, halfnaked, swarthy men and women broiling under a burning sun, with hardly any food but dates, my bosom swelled with pity for their condition, and I felt the dignity of the human species degraded by their contented looks.
"Surely," said I to an Armenian, "these people cannot be so foolish as to be happy in this miserable and uninstructed state. They appear a lively, intelligent race— can they be insensible to their comparatively wretched condition? Do they not hear of other countries, have they no envy, no desire for improvement?" The good old Armenian smiled, and said, "No; they are a very happv race of people, and so far from envying the condition of others, they pity them. But," added he, seeing my surprise, " I will give you an anecdote, which will explain the ground of this feeling.
"Some time since, an Arab woman, an inhabitant of Abusheher, went to England with the children of Mr. B. She remained in your country four years. When she returned, all gathered round her to gratify their curiosity about England. 'What did you find there? Is it a fine country? Are the people rich—are they happy?' She answered, ' The country was like a garden; the people were rich, had fine clothes, fine houses, fine horses, fine carriages, and were said to be very wise and happy 1 Her audience were filled with envy of the English, and a gloom spread over them, which showed discontent at their own condition. They were departing with this sentiment, when the woman happened to say, 'England certainly wants one thing.' 'What is that?' said the Arabs eagerly. 'There is not a single date-tree in the whole country!" 'Are you sure?' was the general exclamation. 'Positive,' said the old nurse; 'I looked for nothing else all the time I was there, but I looked in vain!' This information produced an instantaneous change of feeling among the Arabs; it was pity, not envy, that now filled their breasts; and they went away, wondering how men could live in a country where there were no date-trees!" Sketches of Persia.
Thou to whom all power is given,
Here on earth, above, in heaven,
Jesus, Saviour, mighty Lord,
Be thy holy name adored!
In our hearts all-sovereign reign;
All the world be thy domain!
May redeemed man, we pray thee,
Like the Angelic Host, obey thee
Thou who dost the ravens feed, •
Grant us all our bodies need;
Thou in whom we move and live,
Daily grace sustaining give!
Pardon us, our sins confessing;
Keep us from afresh transgressing.
May we pardon one another,
As becomes a sinning brother.
In temptation's dreadful hour,
Shield us with thy gracious power.
From Satan's wiles our hearts defend,
Saviour, Comforter, and Friend!
Glory to thee on earth lie given,
Christ our King the Lord of heaven!
Glory to thee, great " First and Last,"
When this earth, and time are past! A. B. D
There is no greater argument in the world of our spiritual weakness, and the falseness of our hearts in matters of religion, than the backwardness most men have alwavs, and all men sometimes, to say their prayers; so weary of their length, so glad when they are done, so ready to find an excuse, so apt to lose an opportunity. Yet it is no labour, no trouble, they are thus anxious to avoid, but the begging a blessing ami receiving it: honouring our God
and by so doing, honouring ourselves too. Jeremy
THE DORADO (or DOLPHIN,) AND THE FLYING FISH.
How many and various are the proofs which we have of the wisdom and goodness of God, in the different ways in which he has provided for the welfare and security, not merely of man, but also of the several branches of the brute creation! Amongst these, we may justly mention this,—that those living creatures, which, either from the number or power of their enemies, are more peculiarly exposed to Janger, are generally, in a due proportion, more abundantly supplied with the means, if not of resistance, yet of concealment, or escape. In no instance, we think, does this remark appear more applicable than in the case of the Flying-fish. "All animated nature," says Buffon, "seems combined against this little creature." Not only does it fall a iictim to some of the larger inhabitants of the deep, but the Tropic-bird and the Albatross are ever on the wing to seize it for their prey. Its chief and most natural enemy, however, is the fish called the Dorado, or as it is erroneously termed by sailors, the Dolphin *. And it is; against this powerful foe that it seems to be especially armed.
TBI DORADO, On DOLPHIN.
The Dorado is described as being about six feet in length, and at once one of the most active and most beautiful of the finny tribe. The back is ornamented all over, with spots of a bluish green and silver; the tail and fins are of the colour of gold; the eyes are remarkably large and beautiful, and surrounded ■with circles of the most shining golden hue. In fact, it is from its appearance that it takes its name Dorado, or Golden, and it is said to be so extremely brilliant and singularly beautiful whilst living, and in active motion, that no painting or other representation, much less any description, can give any thing like a jnst idea of it. On the other hand, its strength and power of pursuit are represented as amazingly great.
It is furnished with a full complement of fins, and such is the power of the muscles with which it is provided, that it can not only cut its way through the water with monstrous rapidity, but can bound to a considerable height, and to the distance of eight or ten yards over the waves. It is moreover one of the most voracious of its kind. We may then easily imagine what a formidable enemy this creature must be to any of its own species which it may select for its prey. As it is the unhappy fate of the Flying-fish to be its favourite food, and to be the inhabitant of the same seas, in the tropical regions, it is, of course, in constant danger, from the eager pnrsuit of the Dorado.
But let us here observe, what peculiar means of security it has pleased the Creator to bestow upon this little animal. As it is but about nine inches long, and seldom grows above the size of a herring, any attempt at resistance, would, of course, be in vain. All its hope of safety must arise from its
• Its Dame amongst naturalists is the Ctvryphitna hippurus, and it is different from the Dolphin, Delphinm phocena, to which tailors give the name of the IVpoise,
being able to escape from danger. And its first prospect of doing so, arises from the vast numbers in which they, as well as most of those creatures which are the prey of others, are usually found. They have also the same power of swimming away from their enemy as possessed by other fish of the same size as themselves. But in addition to these common qualities, they are furnished with two pair of fins, which are longer than their whole body, and are moved by a set of muscles, which are stronger than any other, and with these they are enabled, leaving their natural element, to wing their way for a very extraordinary distance through the air, out of the reach of their pursuing foe.
The description given of the Flying Fish, and of their pursuit by the Dorado, or Dolphin, by Captain Basil Hall, is so interesting, that we arc tempted to present it to our readers nearly in his own words. "No familiarity,'" says that amusing writer, "with the sight, can ever render us indifferent to the graceful flight of these most interesting of all the finny, or, rather, winged tribe. On the contrary, like a bright day, or a smiling countenance, the more we see of them, the more we value their presence. I have, indeed, hardly ever observed a person so dull, that his eye did not glisten as he watched a shoal, or, it may be called, a covey of Flying-fish rise from the sea, and skim along for several hundred yards. There is something in it so peculiar, so totally different from every thing else in other parts of the world, that our wonder goes on increasing every time we see one take its flight; so that we may easily excuse the old Scotch wife, who said to her son, when he was relating what he had seen abroad; 'You may hae seen rivers o' milk, and mountains o' sugar, but you'll ne'er gar (make) me believe you hae seen a fish that could flee!'
"I have endeavoured to form an estimate as to the length of these flights, and find two hundred yards, or about an eighth of a mile, set down in my notes as about the longest distance, which they perform in somewhat more than half a minute. These flights, however, vary from that length to a mere skip out of the water. Generally speaking, they fly to a considerable distance in a straight line, in the wind's eye, that is, exactly towards the point from which the wind blows, and then gradually turn off to leeward. But sometimes they merely skim the surface, so as to touch only the tops of the waves. A notion prevails afloat, but I know not how just it may be, that they can fly no longer than whilst their wings, or fins, remain wet. That they rise as high as twenty feet above the water is certain, from their being found in parts of a ship, which are full as much as that out of the sea. I remember seeing one about nine inches in length, and weighing not less, I should suppose, than half a pound, skim into the Volage's main-deck port just abreast of the gangway. One of the seamen was coming up the quarter-deck ladder at the moment, when the fish, entering the port, struck the astonished mariner on the temple, knocked him off the step, and very nearly threw him down at full length.
"The amiable Humboldt good-naturedly suggests that the flights of these fish may be mere gambols, and not proofs of their being pursued by their enemy, the Dolphin. I wish I could believe so; for it were much more agreeable to suppose, that at the end of the fine sweep which they take, they fall safely on the bosom of the sea.
"I do not recollect whether that eminent traveller, who not only observes many more things than most men, but describes them much better, has any where mentioned his having witnessed one of'these chases. The best I remember, was during the first voyage I ever made, through those regions of the sun, the tropical seas, and I will therefore describe it.
"We were stealing along pleasantly enough, under the influence of a newly-formed breeze, which, as yet, was confined to the upper sails, and every one was looking open-mouthed to the eastward, to catch a little cool air, or was congratulating his neighbour on getting rid of the calm in which we had been so long half-roasted, half-suffocated, when about a dozen Flying-fish rose out of the water, and skimmed away to windward, at the height of ten or twelve feet above the surface. Shortly after, we discovered two or three Dolphins, ranging past the ship in all their beauty. Presently, the ship, in her course, put up another shoal of those little creatures, which flew in the same direction which the others had taken.
"A large Dolphin, which had been keeping company with us at the depth of two or three fathoms, and as usual, glistening most beautifully in the sun, .no sooner detected our poor dear little friends taking wing, than he turned his head towards them, and darting to the surface, leaped from the water with a swiftness little short, as it seemed, of a cannon-ball. But, although the force with which he shot himself into the air, made him gain upon the Flying-fish at first, yet the start which they had got, enabled them to keep a-head of him for a considerable time.
"The length of the Dolphin's first spring, could not be less than ten yards; and after he fell, we could see him gliding like lightning through the water, for a moment, when he again rose and shot forward with a speed considerably greater than at first, and of course, to a still greater distance. In this manner, the merciless pursuer seemed to stride along the sea with fearful rapidity, whilst his brilliant coat sparkled and flashed in the sun quite splendidly. As he fell headlong on the water, at the end of each huge leap, a series of circles were sent far over the still surface, which lay as smooth as a mirror.
"The group of Flying-fish thus hotly pursued, at length dropped into the sea; but we were rejoiced to observe, that they merely touched the top of the swell, and scarcely sunk into it: at least, they instantly set off again in a fresh, and even more vigorous flight. It was particularly interesting to
observe, that the direction they now took was quite different from the one in which they had set out; thus implying, that they had detected their fierce enemy, who was following them, with giant steps, along the waves, and was now rapidly gaining upon them. His terrific pace, indeed, was two or three times as swift as theirs,—poor little things!
"The Dolphin was fully as quick-sighted as the Flying-fish. For whenever they changed their flight in the smallest degree, he lost not the tenth part of a second in shaping a new course in pursuit, whilst they, in a manner really not unlike that of the hare, doubled more than once upon their pursuer. But it was soon too plainly to be seen, that the strength and confidence of the Flying-fish was fast ebbing. Their flights became shorter and shorter, and their course more fluttering and uncertain, whilst the enormous leaps of the Dolphin, appeared to grow only more vigorous at each bound. At last, indeed, we could see, or fancied we could see, that this skilful sea-sportsman so arranged all his springs, that he contrived to fall at the end of each, just under the very spot, on which the exhausted Flyingfish were about to drop! Sometimes this took place at too great a distance for us to see from the deck exactly what happened; but on our mounting high into the rigging, we could discover that many of the tinfortunate little creatures, one after another, either fell right into the Dolphin's jaws, as they lighted on the water, or were snapped up instantly afterwards."
It must be confessed, that it is scarcely possible to read this description, interesting as it is, without feeling, not only a degree of pain for the little fish, but also of resentment against their persevering foe: but we should recollect, that the Dolphin is here only following the instinct of its nature, in a manner necessary for its very existence. If, conscious of the pain it was inflicting, it were, simply for its own amusement, wantonly to trifle' with the peace and comfort of the creatures it thus pursues to the death, there might, perhaps, be some ground for our resentment; but the fact is, its object is to satisfy the appetite given it by its benevolent Creator, and that with the very food which seems to have been more especially provided for it. And in this there is no more cruelty than in our putting such animals to death, as are necessary for our support D. I. E.
LONDON: Published by JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, West Stuand; and sold bv all Bookseller*.
UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE: AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.
THE CASTLE OF ST. ELMO, IN NAPLES. There are three principal Fortresses in the City of Naples, known by the names of the Castello Nuovo (New Castle,) the Castello dell' Uovo (Castle of the Egg,) and the Castello di S. Elmo (Castle of St. Elmo). The first two are intended, to protect the
.city from attack by sea; the third completely commands it from the land-side, and is intended rather
'as an instrument of power in the hands of the government to restrain the turbulent populace, than as a means of defence against external enemies.
The Castello dell' Uovo stands on the site of a villa which once belonged to the Roman Lucullus, and then rested on the main land. An earthquake, however, is said to have separated it, when William the First, second king of Naples, built a palace there. The present fortress communicates with the laud by a mole; the rock on which it is situated resembles an egg in shape, and the castle thence derives its name. The Castello Nuovo is a fortress of great size and strength, adjoining the Mole, and completely protecting the harbour. It was once the residence of the kings of Naples, and it communicates, by a subterranean way, with the royal palace. It contains the arsenal, and within its first line of fortifications is a triumphal arch, erected in honour of Alphonso of Arragon.
The Castello di S. Elmo, S. Ermo, or S. Erasmo, (by which various names it is known,) is the most remarkable of the three. It stands on a high rock to the north-west of the city, which it completely commands. The citadel was erected by Charles the Fifth, and its lofty walls and the huge fosses exca
• vated in the rock, contrast strikingly with the smiling scenery around. It is seen in the distance in our engraving, as it appears from the commencement of the Mole, rising above the buildings of the city. Immediately in front of the view, is the Castello Nuovo. The remainder of the scene is curious, conveying some idea of the easy and indolent manner in which the occupations and business of life are carried on, in this luxurious and enervating climate. Our readers will perceive the exquisite regard to comfort, which is paid by the gentleman who is undergoing the operation of shaving on the beach. Even the individuals at work on the boat, are sitting at their labours. Forsyth, in his Travels in Italy, thus describes the appearance of the Mole on holidays, which, he says, seems an epitome of the town, and exhibits most of its
'humours. "Here stands a Friar preaching to a row of lazaroni: there Punch, the representative of the nation, holds forth to a crowd. Yonder, another orator recounts the miracles performed by a sacred wax-work, on which he rubs his agnuses and sells them, thus impregnated with grace, for a grain a piece. Beyond him, are Quacks in hussar uniform, exalting their drugs and brandishing their sabres, as if not content with one mode of killing. The next professore," (for they are all so styled,) "is a dog of knowledge, great in his own little circle of admirers. Opposite to him, stand two jocund old men, in the centre of an oval group, singing alternately to their crazy guitars. Further on, is a motley audience seated on planks, and listening to a tragi-comic
filosofo, who reads, sings, and gesticulates, old Gothic tales of Orlando and his Paladins."
The Castle of St. Elmo was the scene of an interesting event towards the close of the last century, when the continued and shameless encroachments of the French Revolutionists had excited the indignation of the other powers of Europe, and Lord Nelson's splendid victory of the Nile had somewhat roused
their fallen spirit. A new coalition was the result; and the winter of 1798-9, was spent in preparations. The court of Naples, however, more sanguine and less cautious than the other confederates, was unable to restrain its impatience; and as Nelson had repaired to that city to refit his fleet, his presence increased the confidence of the government. The French were attacked in December, and compelled to quit Rome. The Neapolitan army, under the command of the Austrian General Mack, followed them, but was soon defeated and dispersed. Early in January, 1799, the French entered Naples, and publicly announced that the Neapolitan monarchy was destroyed, and a republic established in its stead, which, with that fondness for classical names which so distinguished their revolutionary a:ra, they styled the Parthenopean Republic. The royal family had previously escaped, having been conveyed away by Nelson, at the close of the preceding month, to Palermo.
During his stay at that port, Lord Nelson matured a plan for the blockade of Naples, and the seizure of the islands in its bay. The execution of this design was intrusted by him to his much-loved friend Captain, afterwards Sir Thomas, Troubridge, at the particular desire of their Sicilian Majesties, who, in the belief that they must be safe with so great a hero, had extorted a promise from Nelson that he himself would not leave them. Eight ships proceeded on this service, to carry into effect their admiral's instructions; and, early in April, Troubridge was in complete possession of the islands Procida, Ischia, and Capri. The invaders soon evacuated Naples, and retired to Capua, taking the precaution to leave a strong garrison in the castle of St. Elmo. To reduce this fortress was the next object; and for this purpose, Captain Troubridge landed in June with the English and Portuguese marines of the fleet, and summoned it to surrender.
The castle was manned with 800 French troops, under the command of General Mejan, a rude republican, whom Captain Troubridge summoned to surrender, but his summons not being obeyed, he opened a battery within 700 yards of the fort, and, two days afterwards, he erected a second, only 200 yards from the castle walls, and was making every preparation for a nearer approach. In proportion as he advanced, the confidence of the enemy abated; and when Mejan saw the distance between himself and his assailant's guns getting so fearfully small, he laid aside the arrogant insolence which he had previously displayed, and made humble appeals to the generous feelings of his English opponents.
The gallant seaman continued his approaches, and opened a new battery within 180 yards of the fort. A capitulation soon followed, and the castle was then given up. Nelson afterwards wrote a very characteristic letter to his present Majesty, then His Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence, in which he thus spoke of this affair. "I find, Sir, that General Koehler does not approve of such irregular proceedings as naval officers attacking and defending fortifications. We have but one idea,—to get close along-side. None but a sailor would have placed a battery only 1 fc*0 yards from the Castle of St. Elmo. A soldier must have gone according to art and the A/\A/W\/ way. My brave Troubridge went straight, for we had no time to spare. Your Royal Highness will not believe that I mean to lessen the conduct of the army, I have the highest respect for them all; b\it General Koehler should not have written such u paragraph in his letter; it conveyed a jealousy, which I dare say is not in his disposition."