of the natives, although dwelling in huts little better than sheds, and always taking their food out of doors; and by the thriving prolific increase of animals conveyed thither by Europeans. A sow and pigs, introduced by Captain Cook, have multiplied into an unknown number, both wild and tame. The same navigator favoured the Zealanders with potatoes and turnips, which are now universally cultivated with abundant success, to the full extent of our knowledge of New Zealand cultivation. The list of fruits and vegetables, successfully transferred to the fields and gardens of these islands, would occupy some pages of a Hortus Botanicus of Australasia. The natural productions of the country are chiefly a singular kind of flax, of a silky fineness, used for making cordage, ropes, and mats, of extraordinary strength and durability, and a sort of wood, of the pine genus, highly valued for spars, of which there are immense forests, interspersed with trees of a growth sufficient for the main and fore-top masts of the largest three-deckers, as they rise from eighty to a hundred feet, straight and without a branch, crowned with umbrageous foliage. Such is the beauty and grandeur of these forests, that they are described as flourishing with a vigour almost superior to any thing that imagination can conceive among the wildest and most picturesque walks of pure nature; the sublime and majestic character they present, challenging the admiration of every traveller. The coasts abound with fish and tortoise, the shells of which offer, in the opinion of a resident, a promising object of British trade. "Such is the country, containing about 95,000 square English miles, and such the character of the inhabitants, which early attracted the notice of the justly celebrated Dr. Franklin to such an extent, that he studied and organized a plan for civilizing and improving the people, and subscriptions were actually commenced towards carrying it into effect; but the quarrel of England with her American colonies, put a stop to these proceedings of enterprising benevolence. Of later years, the various Missionary Societies have always had their eyes upon this inglorious spot, earnestly desirous of conveying to it the blessings of revealed religion, as the surest means of imparting the principles of civil order and social peace to its terrific inhabitants. But missionary attempts were for a long time deferred, on account of the ferocious character of the people rendering an unresisting and peaceful residence among them scarcely to be contemplated as possible. Several endeavours at a permanent residence of a missionary character were nevertheless made, whenever any circumstance produced an opening that might be regarded as barely insuring the safety of the missionaries. These, however promising for a season, ultimately failed, from the want of sufficient protection against surrounding cupidity coveting their little property; or were given up on account of the whole expense of supporting the individuals separated and located in these little communities for instruction and civilization, as well as of the children of the schools being wholly and necessarily sustained by the missions, while the realizing of any property by cultivation or otherwise on the spot, inevitably invited the cupidity of every one to whom its existence was known. Some of the South Sea missionaries having visited New Zealand, and ascertained the inaccessible character of the people through any medium at the command of the Society, reluctantly quitted the islands for more hospitable shores. Shortly after, an enterprise was planned with considerable judgment and care, with the view of forming a purely commercial establishment, and diffusing the benefits of civilization and instruction among the people. A great mass of property was adventured and expended in this attempt; but the difficulties of the situation, the jealousy of the natives, and the absence of any very powerful incentive to perseverance, in the face of the depressing influence of want of success, accompanied by constant danger and incessant alarm, brought this enterprise to nothing, without accomplishing the slightest benefit, either to the adventurers or to the islanders; some of whom, however, frequently found their way to Port Jackson, and even to England: and these form the next link in the chain of attempted improvement. "Several of these visiters, at different times, being chiefs, were received in England with the greatest kindness, and were attended with unceasing assiduity. The arts, conveniences, and comforts of civilized society were explained to their wondering and applauding comprehension, and they were finally dismissed with presents and counsels adapted to their characters and circumstances. This medium, also, utterly failed of producing any beneficial effect. A New Zealand chief contemplated the wonders of England principally with the eye and heart of a warrior. Having brought hither, and carried away with him, the spirit of his countrymen unbroken and entire, guns, swords, ammunition, and iron, were the principal objects of interest with him while here, and formed the main topics of his regret on leaving them behind him. On returning to his native land, every acquisition he had made in the way of knowledge, skill, and possession, was turned to immediate account in the favourite pursuits of war, devastation, and all the exercises of unbridled licentious power. "On behalf of this interesting people, whose history is full of instances of the most touching affection, lively gratitude, sted fast friendship, and persevering exertion, sustained by a spirit of independence such as might put many of their accusers to the blush, our hopes, under God, rest upon the Christian missionary, and the patrons and friends whose countenance and contributions support him in his course. He, and he only, we are bold to affirm, possesses the animus that will sustain the conflict and come off conqueror, when brought to bear upon the profound ignorance, the vile superstitions, and viler passions, and depraved and degraded habits even of cannibal tribes. But his weapons, though mighty, are neither noisy, punitive, nor hasty they make their silent way effectually as the leaven in the meal, and reduplicate their principles like corn upon the mountaintops. It is to the honour of the Church Missionary Society, and the indefatigable exertions of that excellent minister, the Rev. Mr. Marsden, chaplain to the colony at Sydney, that the commencement of improvement in the character and prospects of the New Zealanders is principally to be attributed. After a series of exertions, privations, disappointments, and sufferings, highly honourable to the parties encountering and denduring them, Christian missionaries have been established, and stations formed in the Bay of Islands, the most favourable spot that could be found for the purposes either of trade or missionary labour. "As much as two years ago, Mr. Marsden wrote thus:-" New Zealand is now open, in every part, for the introduction of the gospel and the arts of civilization "There can be no doubt that New Zealand will become a civilized nation." The correctness of this representation is sustained by the fact, that the Wesleyan mission has been resumed on the side of the island opposite to its former situation, in the midst of a population of 4000 natives, and protected by a friendly chief. Indeed, many of the chiefs, witnessing the advantages of being near the mission settlements, are anxious to obtain missionaries, as the precursors of the arts of civilization and peace. "The labours of the press have also reached that land of darkness. After some elementary books, in which their language is printed as expressed by English letters, which many of the natives and their children were taught to read, parts of Genesis, the xxth of Exodus, parts of the Gospels, and the Lord's Prayer, have been printed in their language; and the natives are delighted with their books, and the new attainment of reading them, which stimulates others also to acquire the same ability. "As to civilization, English blankets are become a valuable article of barter, and have happily superseded the anxious requisitions for muskets and powder. Blankets promised in payment for wheat have extended its cultivation; their horned cattle have increased to ninety-five head, supplying the settlement with milk and animal food. We have before us the testimony of ten persons, occupied at different stations, all rejoicing in the most pleasing prospects as to the people's docility, attention, and eagerness to be instructed; and all uniting in observing, "It is very evident that a considerable change has been effected among the natives;" formerly they were like wild men, but now they are civil, converse sensibly, and, before retiring to rest, pray to God, without being taught a form, in language which shews they understand scripture truth. The schools also, (everywhere the germ of civilization and improvement,) in which several hundred native children are daily instructed, are going on well. "Those of our readers who are friendly to missionary efforts, on contemplating the character of these islanders, existing but a few years ago, without a solitary exception, as sketched in the preceding paragraphs, have indeed "read with astonishment and gratitude, in their respective documents, the details of a change so auspicious to the future character and well-being of these objects of their Christian charity and daily prayers. From the whole, it may be pronounced without hesitation, that the era of civilization has commenced with the people of these islands, under circumstances of peculiarly fair and auspicious promise. "A mild and moral sway is at this moment exercised among these rude but noble barbarians," which cannot fail in ultimately subduing their destructive animosities, and abolishing their sanguinary habits. Christianity, emphatically the religion of civilization, accompanied by literature and science, is going forth among them, and it is not possible for us to conceive that her triumph over ignorance, prejudice, and ferocity, will be less than complete. The New Zealanders have, indeed, to learn and appreciate the difference between Christian missionaries, and Englishmen escaping from transportation, deserters from our navy, or captains like the hero of the preceding horrible narrative; but the quick sensibility of these islanders, improved and guided by the scriptures, will not be long in making the necessary distinctions." THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE. AMONG the curiosities of this part of the Cornish coast, the Eddystone light-house is not one of the least. About three leagues beyond Plymouth-sound, in a line nearly between Start-point and the Lizard, lie a number of low rocks, exceedingly dangerous at all times, but especially when the tides are high, which render them invisible. On these rocks it had long been thought necessary to place some monitory signal. But the difficulty of constructing a lighthouse was great. One of the rocks, indeed, which compose this reef, is considerably larger than the rest; yet its dimensions are still narrow: it is often covered with water, and frequently, even in the calmest weather, surrounded by a swelling sea, which makes it difficult to land upon it; and much more so to carry on any work of time and labour. The uncommon tumult of the sea in this place is occasioned by a peculiarity in the rocks. As they all slope and point to the northeast, they spread their inclined sides, of course, to the swelling tides and storms of the Atlantic. And as they continue in this shelving direction many fathoms below the surface of the sea, they occasion that violent working of the water which the seamen call a ground swell. So that, after a storm, when the surface of the sea around is perfectly smooth, the swells and agitation about these rocks are dangerous. From these continual eddies, the Eddystone derives its name. The first light-house of any consequence, erected on this rock, was undertaken by a person of the name of Winstanley, in the reign of king William. Mr. Winstanley does not appear to have been a man of solidity and judgment sufficient to erect an edifice of this kind. He had never been noted for any capital work; but much celebrated for a variety of trifling and ridiculous contrivances. If you set your foot on a certain board in one of his rooms, a ghost would start up; or if you sat down in an elbow-chair, its arms would clasp around you. His light-house, which was built of wood, partook of his whimsical genius. It was finished with galleries and other ornaments, which encumbered it, without being of any use. It was, however, on the whole, much admired as a very ingenious edifice, and Winstanley certainly deserved the credit of being the first projector of a very difficult work. He had fixed it to the rock by twelve massy bars of iron, which were let down deep into the body of the stone. It was generally, indeed, thought well founded; and the architect himself was so convinced of its stability, that he would often say, he wished for nothing more than to be shut up in it during a violent storm. He at length had his wish; for he happened to be in it, at the time of that memorable storm on the 26th of November, 1703. As the violence, however, of the tempest came on, the terrified architect began to doubt the firmness of his work; it trembled in the blast, and shook in every joint. In vain he made what signals of distress he could invent, to bring a boat from the shore. The terrors of the storm were such, that the boldest vessel durst not face it. How long he continued in this melancholy distress is unknown; but in the morning no appearance of the light-house was left. It and all its contents, during that terrible night, were swept into the sea. This catastrophe furnished Mr. Gay with the following simile in his Trivia, which was written a few years after the event "So when fam'd Eddystone's far-shooting ray, A light-house was again constructed on this rock before the conclusion of Queen Anne's reign. It was undertaken by one Rudyard, who built it also of wood, but having seen his predecessor's errors, avoided them. He followed Winstanley's idea in the mode of fixing his structure to the rock; but he chose a plain circular form, without any gallery, or useless projecting parts for the storm to fasten on. To give stability also to his work, he judiciously introduced, as ballast at the bottom, 270 tons of stone. In short, every precaution was taken to secure it against the fury of the two elements of wind and water, which had destroyed the last; but it fell by a third. Its Late one night, in the year 1755, it was observed from the shore to be on fire. upper works having been constructed of light timber, probably could not bear the heat. It happened fortunately that admirał West rode with a fleet at that time in the Sound; and, being so near the spot, he im mediately manned two or three swift boats. Other boats put off from the shore; but though it was not stormy, it was impossible to land. In the mean time, the fire having descended to the lower parts of the building, had driven the poor inhabitants upon the skirts of the rock, where they were sitting disconsolate, when assistance arrived. They had the mortification, however, to find that the boats, through fear of being dashed to pieces, were obliged to keep aloof. At length, it was contrived to throw coils of rope upon the rock, which the men tied round them, and were dragged on board through the sea. The case of one of these poor fellows, who was above ninety years of age, was singular. As he had been endeavouring to extinguish the fire in the cupola, where it first raged, and was looking up, the melted lead from the roof came trickling down upon his face and shoulders. At Plymouth he was put into a surgeon's hands; and, though much hurt, he appeared to be in no danger. He constantly, however, affirmed, that some of the melted lead had fallen down his throat. This was not believed, as it was thought he could not have survived such a circumstance. In twelve days he died; and Mr. Smeaton says, he saw the lead, after it had been taken out of his stomach; and that it weighed seven ounces. The next light-house, which is the present one, was built by Mr. Smeaton, in 1759, and is constructed on a plan, which it is hoped will secure it against every danger. It is built entirely of stone, in a circular form. Its foundations are let into a socket in the rock on which it stands, and of which it almost makes a part; for the stones are all united with the rock, and with each other, by massy dove-tails. The cement used in this curious masonry is the lime of Watchet, from whence Mr. Smeaton contrived to bring it barrelled up in cidercasks; for the proprietors will not suffer it to be exported in its crude state. The door of this ingenious piece of architecture is only the size of a ship's gun-port; and the windows are mere loop-holes-denying light, to exclude wind. When the tide swells above the foundation of the building, the lighthouse makes the odd appearance of a structure emerging from the waves. But sometimes a wave rises above the very top of it, and, circling round, the whole looks like a column of water, till it breaks into foam, and subsides. See Mr. Smeaton's Account of the Eddystone. 2D. SERIES, NO. 17.-VOL. II. The care of this important beacon is committed to four men ; two of whom take the charge of it by turns, and are relieved every six weeks. But as it often happens, especially in stormy weather, that boats cannot touch at the Eddystone for many months, a proper quantity of salt provision is always laid up, as in a ship victualled for a long voyage. In high winds, such a briny atmosphere surrounds this gloomy solitude, from the dashing of the waves, that a man exposed to it could not draw his breath. At these dreadful intervals, the two forlorn inhabitants keep close quarters, and are obliged to live in darkness and stench; listening to the howling storm, excluded in every emergency from the least hope of assistance, and without any earthly comfort, but what is administered from their confidence in the strength of the building in which they are immured. Once, on relieving this forlorn guard, one of the men was found dead, his companion choosing rather to shut himself up with a putrifying carcase, than, by throwing it into the sea, to incur the suspicion of murder. In fine weather, these wretched beings just scramble a little about the edge of the rock, when the tide ebbs, and amuse themselves with fishing; which is the only employment they have, except that of trimming their nightly fires. Such total inaction and entire seclusion from all the joys and aids of society, can only be endured by great religious philoso. phy, which we cannot imagine they feel; or by great stupidity, which in pity we must suppose they possess. Yet, though this wretched community is so small, we are assured it has sometimes been a scene of misanthropy. Instead of suffering the recollection of those distresses and dangers in which each is deserted by all but one, to endear that one to him, we were informed the humours of each were so soured, that they preyed both on themselves, and on each other. If one sat above, the other was commonly found below. Their meals, too, were solitary; each, like a brute, growling over his food alone. We are sorry to acknowledge a picture like this to be a likeness of human nature. In some gentle minds, we see the kind affections rejoice in being beckoned even from scenes of innocence, mirth, and gaiety, to mingle the sympathetic tear with affliction and distress. But experience shows us, that the heart of man is equally susceptible of the malevolent passions; and religion joins in confirming the melancholy truth. The picturesque eye, in the mean time, surveys natural and moral evil under characters entirely different. Darken the 161.-VOL. XIV. 2 F storm; let loose the winds; let the waves overwhelm all that is fair and good; the storm will be sublime, and the catastrophe pathetic while the moral tempest is dreary, without grandeur, and the catastrophe afflicting, without one picturesque idea. The emolument of this arduous post is twenty pounds a year, and provisions while on duty. The house to live in may be fairly thrown into the bargain. The whole together is, perhaps, one of the least eligible pieces of preferment in Britain; and yet, from a story, which Mr. Smeaton relates, it appears there are stations still more ineligible. A fellow, who got a good livelihood by making leathern pipes for engines, grew, tired of sitting constantly at work, and solicited a light-house man's place, which, as competitors are not numerous, he obtained. As the Eddystone boat was carrying him to take possession of his new habitation, one of the boatman asked him, what could tempt him to give up a profitable business, to be shut up for months together in a pillar? "Why," said the man, "because I did not like confinement !" I FIRST entered the world, in the possession of an infant, of a very noble family in the north of England, just four hundred years ago. His birth was greeted with the utmost festivity; the old hall of the castle was filled from end to end with the feudal retainers of the baron, the father of the little boy, who was brought into the hall every day of the feast, dressed in a little scarlet silk robe. The vassals were allowed to kiss his hand; and all seemed to vie with each other in flattering him, in order to gain the favour of the baron and his lady. It was, however, of little importance, for the object of their praises was quite unconscious of them. After these revels had passed away, I remember little of the life of my possessor; he was clothed, I recollect, in the most costly manner, and the baron would sometimes visit the turret in which the nursery was situated, and bestow an affectionate kiss upon his infant son. This was, how ever, of rare occurrence: for the baron being chiefly at court, was seen but seldom at the northern castle, where his little son was born; and for the first ten years of his life, I found my situation sufficiently mo notonous. When Albert de B- was seven years old, his mother died; the baron returned to the castle just in time to bid her farewell, and, after her funeral in the chapel, continued there some months, to attend to his infant son, who was the more beloved, as he was the only child, and the very image of his departed parent. At nine years of age, Albert was a lad of the most noble manners, and attractive appearance. Being near the post of observation, I had frequent opportunity of ascertaining this: and in my many wanderings, among all the persons who have fallen under my notice, I never met with a countenance that struck me as more intelligently beautiful. At this time he was put under the care of the priest, who instructed him every day in Latin, and such of the sciences as the young nobles of that period were taught. He learned also to ride, till he could sit the most fiery horse with perfect safety; he was likewise taught to swim, and to shoot with the long bow and at the age of fourteen he used the cross-bow; and soon after began to practise in a full suit of knightly armour, which was presented to him by a noble relative and in a few years he was, without doubt, one of the most accomplished knights that England could boast. As all the share I took in his concerns was only personal, I knew nothing beyond. I well recollect a passage of arms, in which Albert had overcome five knights of great celebrity; in the contest with the sixth, the adversary's spear was shivered, and one of the splinters struck the youthful Albert over the eye, and left a very dangerous wound. Both fell; and as neither rose to demand the surrender of the other, the heralds interfered, and, on lifting them up, the adversary was no more, and Albert was insensible. In course of time, however, he recovered, the wound healed, and left no scar; but the indentation formed in myself I retain to this very day. Some years after, he was called to accompany his father into the field against his monarch, Henry VI., in behalf of the Duke of York. Many of the opposite party did I behold crouch beneath his lance; at length, in one of the most desperate contests, the bloody Clifford, with eye of fire, attacked the baron, who was fighting in the front of the battle, with his |