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landers from the fishing ground, compelling them to hang in the rear like scavengers, and to rest contented with the refuse of the spoil. While England bore the supremacy in this fishery, the number of vessels increased gradually, till upwards of two hundred left our shores annually for Davis's Straits. The voyage was considered altogether unsuccessful unless the vessels returned deeply laden by the middle of summer; but our ships have dwindled down again to seven or eight, which seldom return before Michaelmas, or with more than two-thirds of a cargo, and owners and crews seem alike satisfied with their venture when such is the case. This falling off may be variously accounted for; its true cause is doubtless the scarcity of fish. Great numbers were destroyed for many successive years; the female whale bears but once a year, and several years elapse ere her offspring attain the age of puberty; thus a great destruction of these fish, even in one season, would be likely materially to diminish their numbers the next, did their shyness not cause them to abandon their old haunts and seek "fields" of flood where the eye of man has not penetrated. It is an undoubted fact, that had our vessels explored certain parts of Baffin's Bay, and other portions of the Straits, where the food of the whale abounds, during the last few seasons, they would have returned home with full cargoes. The southerly gales of latter years have, however, "land-locked" the ice, so that vessels could find no openings wherein to sail for more northern latitudes; and in the attempt to open a passage, that time has past which, under favourable circumstances, should have brought them sport and wealth. The whales encountered about the edges of the floes are mere stragglers, and from their uncomfortable habit of perpetual motion are so difficult of capture, that we have often toiled for months without gaining a single fish.

(To be continued.)


On a shooting excursion from Futteh Gurh, about the latter end of the month of December, 1807, we pitched our tents at a village called Bhurt poor, about twelve coss up the river, and on its bank. It was the second or third day after our arrival there, that the Zumindar-a keen old sportsman, and well known in that neighbourhood, by name Munsook Ram, who resided in the village-came and said, if we wished to see a Faquir eat a live sheep, that he had just arrived, and was willing to commence the repast. One and all agreed. An or dinary-sized grass sheep was procured, and the man sent for. The sheep had its two fore-legs tied at the pasterns, and the two hind-legs in the same manner; it was then laid on its side, and the man squatted himself on his hams, about fifteen yards distant.

No lapse of years can efface the impression I vividly retain of the

horrid cast of features exhibited by this monster, as he contemplated the animal on the ground, and the repast he was about to enjoy!

After sitting in this manner about five or ten minutes, I observed him drawing his feet closer under his hams, when suddenly, with a fiendish grin and incredible celerity, he bounded towards the animal, and seizing the fore-legs with his left hand and the hind with his right, without apparently any great effort he tore open the belly with his teeth, and eagerly wrenched out the heart and liver: these were instantly devoured, when, removing the intestines, and holding the sheep on its back with its feet upwards, he delved his head into the carcass, and I distinctly saw him gulping the blood from the cavity.

If I was struck with the horrid expression of feature in this monster in the first instance, what were my feelings now, when, withdrawing his head from the carcass, his face presented itself begrimed with hot gore, his matted hair trickling with blood, which poured down over the forehead and along his ensanguined cheeks? It was too much for three of the party, and they retired to the tent; but, as I was determined (as well as another) to see that no imposition or deception should be practised, having already breakfasted, and the worst part of the exhibition being over, I ordered out my hookah, and we deliberately sat down to witness its termination.

He then proceeded to separate the hide from the carcass with his teeth, in which operation he was constantly spitting off the wool that became attached to his lips, and which, in spite of the disgusting nature of the scene, as the wool adhered to the moist blood on his cheeks, gave him a most grotesque appearance. The ribs were next carefully separated, and picked with his teeth as clean as it were possible for a knife to scrape them; the shoulders then underwent the same process, and lastly the legs; when, my friends observing the elephants were ready for our daily sport, we mounted them, leaving the Faquir with nothing but the hide, intestines, and bones-all and every other part of the sheep he had entirely devoured. Just at this time, however, Munsook came up to us, and said he had often seen him make similar repasts, but at their conclusion he always, when procurable, required a draught of brandy: we accordingly sent for a bottle, from which (a quart bottle) certainly not more than two wine-glasses had been expended on the preceding evening, when the wretch held up both his hands joined, with the palms upwards, and the bearer pouring the contents of the bottle of brandy into them, he drank the whole off at one draught!

Some five or six years afterwards, one of the party went to England on furlough, and during one evening, at the house of his brotherin-law, the late Mr. Abernethy happened to be present, and the host addressing him, said-" Mr. Abernethy, this gentleman, when in India, saw a native eat a whole sheep at one meal." Mr. A. drew up in his chair, stared, and at length said-" Sir, that is impossible; the human stomach has not capacity to receive and contain so large a quantity of animal food." Whether it had been previously agreed to introduce the subject or not, I do not recollect; but the gentleman having the certificate we gave each other at the time in his pocket, he handed it across the table to Mr. A., who read it and returned it,

saying "Sir, I do not doubt your word, or that of any of the gentlemen who have signed that paper; but this I do say, I would not believe it were I to see it myself."

This extraordinary being, in stature was about five feet two or three inches, extremely emaciated, with lank, filthy hair, with a leaden, lack-lustre eye, except in the act of seizing his prey, when it kindled up like that of a tiger in the act of making his spring-the abdomen so shrunk or collapsed, that with the slightest pressure I am sure the navel might be made to touch the back-bone. He walked with a dogged, downcast look; and Munsook Ram told us it would be as well to take no notice of him, if we should chance to meet him outside the village, as his disposition was so vindictive, that if a Pariah dog continued to bark at him for any length of time, he never slept till he had seized and devoured it."

Milo, according to the historians of his time, could floor his ox with a single blow of his clenched fist, and finish him, body and bones, before sunset. The rust of extreme antiquity has exempted this feat from cavil. The Faquir's exploit was too recent to be so easily swallowed. As the Edinburgh Review, however, has given us a still more recent example, I have ventured to quote "one modern

instance more."



"We have been believing that, in this our native land, the road of merit is the road to success. And is not the law the same in the world of literature and the fine arts? Who, in general achieve competence, wealth, splendour, magnificence in their condition as citizens? The feeble, the ignorant, and the base; or the strong, the instructed, and the bold?"-PROFESSOR WILSON.


Omitting the favourite popular entertainments among the archepicures of diversion, such as incendiarism, duelling, murder, agitation, and the like, we have still to recapitulate a host of legitimate amusements in behoof of the sane and sober-minded of this great mart of the world, London. This month can only be considered "flat, stale, and unprofitable" in pleasure by those who have tacitly agreed to exchange metropolitan in-dwelling for a space-for those rural sports which have their peculiar seasons and festivals in the year's first decline. Grouse-shooting, yachting, ballooning, and other such health-seeking and body-repairing ruralities, are now in their fullest vogue of fasion. What then? There are still of the great, the good, the idle, the wise, the wealthy, and the industrious, with the countless mass of fluctuating foreign and native population, ebbing and flowing

ever into the great ocean of commerce, the unfathomed fountain of intelligence and intellectual activity, seeking for all things new and strange within its motley walls, and gathering from its least amusement a fund of information denied to the stagnant and country-bound recluse, of whatever locality.

Downward from the grotesque days of Humphrey Clinker to this epoch of rapid travelling evolutions, still have hordes of sight-seers from the provinces swarmed the streets, shows, theatres, and monuments of the great city during the months of August and September; so that whoever remains in town after the prorogation of parliament, the close of the law courts, and the silence of the Italian opera, is astonished by the fulness and the bustle of that "empty and deserted London," cried down in the fashionable papers of the day. "I come into your London," said a noble Greek, one of the high patriots of his day to us, "just when I can cross the road without peril to my life, or my costume from your splashing uncivil carriages, which never stop for poor folk." Truly, for those who abound not in the world's s gear, economy and facility unite to make an autumnal sojourn in town no such ill-timed speculation. "Ample means and scope enough" shall such find for recreation at one-half the cost of the earlier season. They shall cull from the novelties of the year, such as have stood the test of popular criticism, generally as accurate as a photographic portrait; and, if some curiosities are closed to their inspection, they shall have the freedom of the remainder with the greater latitude of enjoyment. While then the trivialities of the season have perished with the ephemera of summer, that which was tested and proved as sterling ore, still survives to bring "walth o' fame" to its creator; for, as we set forth in our motto, merit, of whatever class, is, in this land, nearly certain of the desired success.

Now is the time for the quiet lover of the genuine farce to take his station at the HAYMARKET THEATRE, in the front row of the third box from the stage, for the better digestion of Mr. Planche's new piece of "Who's your Friend? or, the Queensbury Fête;" a production both for plot, and playfulness, diction and dénouement, worthy of the pointed pen of caustic Sheridan. Indeed, some of its happiest turns of expression strongly recalled some of the refined sarcasms of that jewel of satire, "The School for Scandal," to our thought. From the brain of so practised a dramatist we are certain of something to entertain; but we have not yet seen any piece of Mr. Planche's equal in all respects to this: lively action without confusion, scenic grouping with the utmost correctness of costume, and sufficient originality in the various characters to interest the spectator on many a repeated visit to these boards, especially call for the critic's commendation. Madame Vestris, as the beautiful and coquettish lady of fashion, and Charles Mathews, as the awkwardly bashful English peasant, were inimitable. The scene opens with a fete champêtre, given about the year 1728, by the Duchess of Queensbury to the Queen, where the guests assume rustic devices and attire; so that when a bonâ fide countryman comes among them, one of the discontented, Sir Felix (played by Mr. Holl), easily persuades him he is witnessing a rustic festival, while the same person insinuates to Lady Bab Blazon (of the repu

tation her name implies, played by Mrs. Glover in a delicious manner), that poor Giles is a Russian noble in disguise. The latter is therefore constantly addressed by the style of Baron, and, according to his lesson, he bestows a kiss upon every one so accosting him, which produces a comic effect enough upon the stage. The play was admirably well-apportioned, and will no doubt have as long a run as it deserves.

The close of the ITALIAN OPERA signalized the last month. Never did a more triumphant galaxy of talent support the reputation of its directors for consummate taste in the selection of artists worthy the highest patronage. It is all very fine to talk of Fairyland and the music of the spheres-of sprites who "put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes"-dainty Ariels, nightingales of the woods, and the like; we should like to witness a pitched vocal battle between Grisi, Persiani, Moltini, Mario, Fornasari, etc. etc., on one side, against all birds, sprites, and fairies, vernal and supernal, on the other: the mortals would have it, out and out, be assured. And as for "elves that dance the midnight round," possessing steps as elastic and bounds as gracefully frolicsome as Ellsler, or Cerito, or Guy Stephan, those who see may believe it, for we do not. Here, again, we prove that desert brings wealth and repute as its small change, for we have gladly heard that Mr. Lumley's season has been eminently successful, both in actual profit and patronage. While we cannot congratulate English drama on its advancement, it is at least an increasing satisfaction that the taste for, and the appreciation of musical science is daily gaining ground among all classes in Great


Sivori's farewell to London audiences creates an enthusiastic desire for his re-appearance next spring.

The PRINCESS's THEATRE is, as ever, full of novelties; we have had several during the course of August, of various merit and success. Enterprize is the well-understood characteristic of the manager of this little theatre. "Geraldine; or, The Lover's Well," by the same author as the "Siege of Rochelle," is adapted from the "Piuts d'Amour" of Mr. Balfe, which had last year so great a run in Paris. This is the third opera of merit produced by him within a short space of time. The plot of the story is somewhat confused, turning upon an ancient legend, common to every town and village of the United Kingdom. A haunted well, in which, according to more modern tactics, a king and sundry courtiers weave a mazy counterplot. The music is of a different character to either "Falstaff" or "The Siege of Rochelle." It is striking for the most part, although with abrupt transitions and unfinished airs that war with the strict school of musical art. The overture struck us, however, as one of the very prettiest we had ever heard, and as full of delicacy as some of the airs were coarse and hard. There was one song of Pauline Garcia's very effective " "Visions of love;" and a beautiful aria, sung by Mr. Barker-"I still for her if fate allowed;" and a brilliant one, sung by Mr. Allen-" Roving Abroad"-very characteristic of the composer's style, which was evidently the favourite of the au dience.

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