CHAPTER X.
_Pacification.--Another attempt to adopt some form of government._
The morning that followed the battle of the tents, and the death of Rogere, was fair and bright. The sun, at rising, seemed to burst from the bosom of the briny element, at the same time converting its boundless surface into a mirror of burnished gold. The light clouds that hung in the east, in long horizontal lines, were also of a golden hue, betokening at once the gentleness of the morning breeze, and the fair weather that was to characterize the day. M. Bonfils, as he stepped forth from the tent, and felt the fresh air, and looked abroad, could not but be struck with the beauty of the scene around. “It is indeed a lovely morning--and this is a heavenly climate,” said he, half audibly. “Oh, that the human beings upon this lone island, would look forth upon nature, and take a lesson of peace from its teaching!”
As he said these words, he was met by Brusque, and several other persons, who had been deliberating as to what course ought to be pursued. No communication had, as yet, been had with the defeated party at the cave, and the state of feeling there was a matter of entire uncertainty. After a little conversation, M. Bonfils offered himself to go alone to the cave, and propose some amicable adjustment of difficulties. To this, Brusque as well as others objected; urging upon the hoary patriot the danger of placing himself in the power of these violent men, recently defeated, and likely still to be irritated by the death of their leader. But these reasons did not shake the old man’s purpose. He replied that he feared no danger; that the Rogere party would probably be more reasonable now than before; that his very helplessness would disarm their vengeance; and that even if they took his life, it was but the remnant of an existence, now near its close, and which he could well afford to risk for the sake of his friends.
Finding him entirely devoted to the adventure, Brusque withdrew his objections, and the aged man departed, taking no weapon of defence; supported, however, by a light bamboo cane, for his step was tottering, and his frame frail, from extreme age. The people saw him take his way up the hill, with anxious and admiring eyes, and there was more than one cheek down which the tears stole, showing that their hearts were touched by the fortitude and devotion of the patriarch.
In a brief space after the old man had gone, Brusque and François, unnoticed by the people, wound their way around the trees, and ascended to a sheltered spot, near the cave, to be in readiness to offer succor, should any rudeness or insult be threatened to M. Bonfils. From this cover, they saw him approach the cave, around which about a dozen men were standing. They were all armed, and appeared to be in expectation of attack, yet ready for desperate defence. There was a determination and daring in their looks, which alarmed both François and Brusque: and it was with a feverish interest that they saw the old man, tottering indeed, but still with a calm and tranquil aspect, march directly up to the party, take off his hat, and speak to them as if the emotions of fear were unknown to his bosom.
“I have come, my friends,” said he, “for I will not call my fellow-men enemies--I have come to speak to you of peace. I have come in the name of those who are your countrymen, in behalf of mothers, sisters, children, to beg you to lay down your weapons, to lay aside all thoughts of war; to”----
“Down with the old fool!” said a rough voice; “let us hear no more of his twaddle.” “Nay, nay!” said another; “none but a brute will injure an old man: let’s hear him out. It can do us no harm.”
This seemed to be acceptable to the party, and M. Bonfils went on.
“I pray you to listen to me for a moment. Look around upon this island; is it not a little paradise? How beautiful are the skies above; how glorious the sun that shines upon it; how soft the breezes that fan its surface; how luxurious the vegetation that clothes its swelling hills and its gentle vales! Was this spot made for peace or war? Is there a heart here that can look around, and not feel that nature whispers a lesson of peace? Does not every bosom whisper peace? Does not common sense teach us peace? What can we gain by strife, but evil? Can it promote our happiness to slay each other like wild beasts? If we are to have war, and blood is to be shed, will the conquering party enjoy their victory, when they are forever to live in sight of the graves of their butchered brethren?
“Oh my friends--my countrymen--take an old man’s counsel: no one can be happy, if others are not happy around him. If one of us become a despot, and his will is law, he will still be a wretch, because he will be in the midst of the wretched. Every human bosom reflects the light or the shadow that falls on other bosoms. Man cannot live for himself alone. Let us then be wise and live for each other. Let us enter into a compact to secure each other’s peace. Let us adopt a system of government, which shall secure equal rights and equal privileges. This is just, fair, and wise. It is the only course to save the inhabitants of this island from misery and desolation. This is my errand; I came to pray you to throw aside your weapons; I came to beg that what is past may be forgotten. I propose that you reflect upon these things; and that, as soon as may be, you send a deputation to the party at the tents, to acquaint them with your decision.”
Saying this, the old man departed.
This mission was not without its effect. The party at the cave took the subject into serious consideration, and though there was a division of opinion, yet the majority concluded that it was best to accede to the offered terms of pacification. They accordingly appointed two of their number, who went to the tent party, and proposed that another attempt should be made to establish some form of government.
This proposition was at once accepted; and a committee, consisting of five persons, was appointed to draw up a constitution. The result will be given in another chapter.
Beds
Strew then, oh strew, Our bed of rushes; Here may we rest, Till morning blushes!
In the days of Elizabeth, the peasants used logs of wood for pillows. In the time of the Hebrew kingdom; the bed resembled a divan; consisting of a low elevation, running round three sides of a small room, and stuffed with cushions. In the early times, the Romans slept on leaves: afterwards they used hay and straw. Till the close of the thirteenth century, straw was common in the chambers of palaces. Rushes were also sometimes used for beds, as the preceding extract from an old English song shows. To the English belongs the merit of having brought improvements in beds to the present state of perfection.
[Illustration]
THE GREAT BUSTARD.
THIS noble bird, being twice as large as a turkey, weighing often thirty pounds, is found in the northern parts of Europe, and even in England. Its food is esteemed as a great delicacy, and therefore it is scarce in countries thickly inhabited by man. It frequents open plains, runs with rapidity, and if pursued, rises upon the wing, and skims over the ground with great swiftness. It lives upon grasses, grain, and the leaves of tender plants. It lays its eggs on the ground, without a nest. The young ones, when pursued, skulk in the grass or leaves, and are thus often taken with the hand. The bustard is sometimes tamed, but even then it is shy, and never seems to place full confidence in man.
AFRICAN RINGS.--Dollars are in great request among the old kings and chiefs of the interior of Africa. They first drill two holes, about the centre, into which they insert a circular piece of lead to slip on to the finger; the surface of the dollar being on the upper part of the hand, like a seal.
[Illustration]
The Tartar.
Throughout the central parts of Asia are various tribes of Tartars, some of which pursue the vocation of robbers. We give a picture of one of these fellows, mounted on his dromedary, and armed with a good supply of spears.
These Tartar thieves usually roam in small parties over the thinly settled plains and barren lands of Central Asia, making an occasional assault upon the poor villagers, or attacking and plundering the caravans of merchants and travellers that may be met with. They are a fierce and cruel race, and appear to have pursued this course of life, from the earliest period to the present time.
Answers to our Puzzles.
One of our correspondents has been so kind as to offer an answer to the puzzle of 28 letters in our last number, as follows:
The first, instead of a French villa, I find to be the town _Manilla_. The second, of presaging ill, Is that detested scroll, _Rent Bill_. The third a _Cab_, and by my hat, The fourth is nothing but a _Cat_. With Yankee privilege, I’ll try To guess the fifth; a grain of _Rye_! Sixthly, we find that people will Poor master William, nickname _Bill_. And seventh, all blessings were in vain, Should heaven withhold her showers of _Rain_. The eighth discloses man’s worst lot, A self-degraded, loathsome _Sot_. The ninth as bright in color glows, As Sharon’s richest, sweetest _Rose_. The tenth, if I have not forgotten, Is that important product, _Cotton_. The whole, that school of information, _Mercantile Library Association._
Another correspondent sends us the following:
MR. EDITOR:--Our little circle gathered about the table to guess out the conundrums in Merry’s Museum; and the result of our united investigations I send you.
That Man begins with _M_, no one, indeed, can doubt; A hard _Sum_ is a task, as many school-boys have found out. A welcome winning sure, is _Yes_ to all who favors seek, And human creatures often _Err_, for they are frail and weak. The _Muse_ is often drawn with beauteous face divine, And like a goddess do her form, her face, and features shine.
With Mr. _Merry_ we shall soon be pretty well acquainted, And his _Museum_ pleases us, with covers yellow painted.
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_Manilla_, a town in East Indies is found, The _Rent-bill_, to some, maketh sorrow abound. A _Cab_ is a vehicle, greatly in use, And a _Cat_ is of value, where rats are profuse. The _Rye_, when well ripened, is useful for food, But _Bill_, for a nickname, I think is not good. That _Rain_ is a blessing, sure no one will doubt, And a _Sot’s_ to be pitied, whether in doors, or out. The _Rose_ is a flower admired by all, And _Cotton_, I think, without commerce, would fall. Have I found out the puzzle? Surely ’tis great vexation, To make rhyme with _Mercantile Library Association_.
_Lancaster, Jan. 5, 1842._
We cannot refuse a place to the following, for it is both short and sweet:
The answers to the puzzles in your magazine, are “_Merry’s Museum_,” and “_Mercantile Library Association_.” Yours, A BLACK-EYED FRIEND.
THE SNOW-STORM.
THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.
[Illustration: music]
Down, down the snow is falling slow, Powd’ring the bald-pate trees: Its myriad flakes A blanket makes, And wrap the sleeping leaves.
Fierce now the blast! The snow flies fast, And whirls in many a spray-- Wreath chases wreath, O’er hill and heath, Like spirits in their play.
Jack Frost is out, And drives about-- The white drift for his sled-- Loud roars the gale-- The child turns pale, And hugs his trundle-bed!
The storm is past, Gone, gone the blast! The moon shines fair and bright-- Come, girl and boy, With shout of joy-- We’ll have a slide to-night!
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APOLOGY.--We owe an apology to the Rev. A. B. Muzzy for the insertion of several articles in our Museum, on the important subject of _habit_. We copied them from an English magazine, giving credit for them to that source. We are now informed that they are from an excellent work, entitled “_The Moral Teacher_,” by the aforesaid gentleman.
MERRY’S MUSEUM.
VOLUME III.--No. 3.
[Illustration]
The Siberian Sable-Hunter.