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169 what was the average price of a sheltic. and asked our guide, a lad of fourteen years of age, swer deserves to be written in letters of gold— His an"It's jist as they 're, bug an' smal."

perpendicularly to the sea, which roared foamed at its base among huge masses of oak, and plunged into great caverns, hollowed out by the beating of the surges for centuries. Midway on the rock, and above the reach of the spray, were thousands of sea-birds, sitting in ranks on the main shelves, or alighting, or taking wing, and screaming as they flew. were constantly in the air in front of the rock and A cloud of them over our heads. Here they make their nests and rear their young, but not entirely safe from the pursuit of the Zetlander, wno causes himself to be let down by a rope from the summit and plunders their nests. The face of the rock, above the portion which is the haunt of the birds, was fairly tapestried with herbage and flowers which the perpetual moisture of the atmosphere keeps always fresh--daisies nodding in the wind, and the crimson phlæ, seeming to set the cliffs on flame; yellow buttercups, and a variety of other plants in bloom, of which I do not know the name.

From the ferryman, at the strait below, I got from three to ten pounds, but the latter sum is more specific information. They vary in price respects of shape and color. only paid for the finest of these animals, in the markable, that the same causes which, in ShetIt is not a little reland, have made the horse the smallest of ponies, have almost equally reduced the size of the cow. The sheep, also a pretty creature, I might call it-from the fine wool of which the Shetland Shetland shawls, is much smaller than women knot the thin webs, known by the name of I have ever seen. petual chilliness of the atmosphere, or the insufany breed Whether the cause be the perficiency of nourishment-for, though the long Zetland winters are temperate, and snow never Magnificent as this spectacle was, we were not of herbage in that season-I will not undertake lies long on the ground, there is scarce any growth satisfied without climbing to the summit. passed upwards, we saw where the rabbits had the insufficiency of nourishment. As we to say, but the people of the islands ascribe it to made their burrows in the elastic peaty soil close events, remarkable, that the traditions of the counIt is, at all to the very edge of the precipice. We now try should ascribe to the Picts, the early inhabfound ourselves involved in the cold streams of itants of Shetland, the same dwarfish stature, and mist which the strong sea-wind had drifted over that the numerous remains of their habitations us; they were in fact the lower skirts of the which still exist, should seem to confirm the traclouds. At times they would clear away and give dition. us a prospect of the green island summits around Shetlands is, however, of what the French call The race which at present possesses the us, with their bold headlands, the winding straits" an advantageous stature," and well limbed. between, and black rocks standing out in the sea. it be the want of a proper and genial warmth, When we arrived at the summit we could hardly which prevents the due growth of the domestic If stand against the wind, but it was almost more dif- animals, it is a want to which the Zetlanders are ficult to muster courage to look down that dizzy not subject. Their hills afford them an apparently depth over which the Zetlanders suspend them- inexhaustible supply of peat, which costs the selves with ropes, in quest of the eggs of the sea- poorest man nothing but the trouble of cutting it fowl. My friend captured a young gull on the and bringing it home; and their cottages, I was summit of the Noup. The bird had risen at his told, are always well warmed in winter. approach, and essayed to fly towards the sea, but the strength of the wind drew him back to the land. He rose again, but could not sustain a long flight, and coming to the ground again, was caught, after a spirited chase, amidst a wild clamor of the sea-fowl over our heads.

Not far from the Noup is the Holm, or, as it is sometimes called, the Cradle or Basket, of the Noss. It is a perpendicular mass of rock, two or three hundred feet high, with a broad flat summit, richly covered with grass, and is separated from the island by a narrow chasm, through which the sea flows. Two strong ropes are stretched from the main island to the top of the Holm, and on these is slung the cradle or basket, a sort of open box made of deal boards, in which the shepherds pass with their sheep to the top of the Holm. We found the cradle strongly secured by lock and key, to the stakes on the side of the Noss, in order, no doubt, to prevent any person from crossing for his

own amusement.

As we descended the smooth pastures of the Noss, we fell in with a herd of ponies, of a size somewhat larger than is common on the islands. I

the Noss from Bressay, I observed on the Bressay In crossing the narrow strait which separates side, overlooking the water, a round hillock, of very regular shape, in which the green turf was intermixed with stones. "That," said the ferrywhen it was opened; it was full of rooms, so that man, "is what we call a Pictish castle. ye could go over every part of it." I mind the hillock, and found, by inspecting several openings, which had been made by the peasantry to I climbed take away the stones, that below the turf it was a regular work of Pictish masonry, but the spiral galleries, which these openings revealed, had beer completely choked up, in taking away the materials of which they were built. Although plenty of stone may be found everywhere in the islands, there seems to be a disposition to plunder these remarkable remains, for the sake of building cottages, or making those enclosures for their cabbages, which the islanders call crubs. They have island on the fresh water loch, called Cleikimin, been pulling down the Pictish castle, on the little near Lerwick, described with such minuteness by Scott in his journal, till very few traces of its

original construction are left. If the enclosing of | eries had been unproductive, and the potato crop

lands for pasturage and cultivation proceeds as it has begun, these curious monuments of a race which has long perished, will disappear.

Now that we were out of hearing of the cries of the sea-birds, we were regaled with more agreeable sounds. We had set out, as we climbed the island of Bressay, amid a perfect chorus of larks, answering each other in the sky, and sometimes, apparently, from the clouds; and now we heard them again overhead, pouring out their sweet notes so fast and so ceaselessly, that it seemed as if the little creatures imagined they had more to utter than they had time to utter it in. In no part of the British islands have I seen the larks so numerous or so merry, as in the Shetlands.

had been cut off by the blight. The communication with Scotland by steamboat had ceased, as it always does in winter, and it was long before the sufferings of the Shetlanders were known in Great Britain, but as soon as the intelligence was received, contributions were made and the poor creatures were relieved.

Their climate, inhospitable as it seems, is healthy, and they live to a good old age. A native of the island, a baronet, who has a great white house on a bare field in sight of Lerwick, and was a passenger on board the steamer in which we made our passage to the island, remarked that if it was not the healthiest climate in the world, the extremely dirty habits of the peasantry would engender disease, which, however, was not the case. "It is probably the effect of the saline particles in the air," he added. His opinion seemed to be that the dirt was salted by the sea winds, and preserved from further decomposition. I was somewhat amused, in hearing him boast of the climate of Shetland in winter. "Have you never observed," said he, turning to the old Scotch clergyman of whom I have already spoken, “how much larger the proportion of sunny days is in our islands than at the “I have never observed it," was the dry

answer of the minister.

We waited awhile at the wharf by the minister's house in Bressay, for Jim Sinclair, who at length appeared in his boat to convey us to Lerwick. "He is a noisy fellow," said our good landlady, and truly we found him voluble enough, but quite amusing. As he rowed us to town, he gave us a sample of his historical knowledge, talking of Sir Walter Raleigh and the settlement of North America, and told us that his greatest pleasure was to read historical books in the long win-south?” ter nights. His children, he said, could all read and write. We dined on a leg of Shetland mutton, with a tart made "of the only fruit of the island," as a Scotchman called it, the stalks of the rhubarb plant, and went on board of our steamer about six o'clock in the afternoon. It was matter of some regret to us that we were obliged to leave Shetland so soon. Two or three days more might have been pleasantly passed among its grand precipices, its winding straits, its remains of a remote and rude antiquity, its little horses, little cows and little sheep, its sea-fowl, its larks, its flowers, and its hardy and active people. There was an amusing novelty also in going to bed, as we did, by daylight, for, at this season of the year, the daylight is never out of the sky, and the flush of early sunset only passes along the horizon from the north-west to the south-east, when it brightens into sunrise.

The people of Shetland speak a kind of Scottish, but not with the Scottish accent. Four hundred years ago, when the islands were transferred from Norway to the British crown, their language was Norse, but that tongue, although some of its words have been preserved in the present dialect, has become extinct. "I have heard," said an intelligent Shetlander to me, "that there are yet, perhaps, half a dozen persons in one of our remotest neighborhoods, who are able to speak it, but I never met with one who could."

In returning from Lerwick to the Orkneys, we had a sample of the weather which is often encountered in these latitudes. The wind blew a gale in the night, and our steamer was tossed about on the waves like an egg-shell, much to the discomfort of the passengers. We had on board a cargo of ponies, the smallest of which were from the Shetlands, some of them not much larger than sheep, and nearly as shaggy; the others, of larger size, had been brought from the Faro Isles. In the morning, when the gale had blown itself to rest, I went on deck and saw one of the Faro Island ponies, which had given out during the night, stretched dead upon the deck. I inquired if the body was to be committed to the deep. "It is to be skinned first," was the answer.

The Zetlanders, I was told by a Scotch clergyman, who had lived among them forty years, are naturally shrewd and quick of apprehension; "as to their morals," he added, "if ye stay among them any time ye 'll be able to judge for yourself." So, on the point of morals, I am in the dark. More attention, I hear, is paid to the education of their children than formerly, and all have the opportunity of learning to read and write in the parochial schools. Their agriculture is still very rude, they are very We stopped at Kirkwall, in the Orkneys, long unwilling to adopt the instruments of husbandry enough to allow us to look at the old cathedral of used in England, but on the whole they are making St. Magnus, built early in the twelfth century—a some progress. A Shetland gentleman who, as he venerable pile, in perfect preservation, and the finest remarked to me, had “had the advantage of seeing | specimen of the architecture once called Saxon, then some other countries" besides his own, complained | Norman, and lately Romanesque, that I have ever that the peasantry were spending too much of their seen. The round arch is everywhere used, except earnings for tea, tobacco and spirits. Last winter in two or three windows of later addition. The a terrible famine came upon the island; their fish-] nave is narrow, and the central groined arches

lofty, so that an idea of vast extent is given, though | Howard's eminence was as a writer, though no the cathedral is small, compared with the great doubt of a peculiar kind; for he travelled to colminsters in England. The work of completing certain parts of the building which were left unfinished, is now going on at the expense of the government. All the old flooring and the pews, which made it a parish church, have been taken away, and the original proportions and symmetry of the building are seen as they ought to be. The general effect of the building is wonderfully grand and solemn.

lect his facts. Those facts were of a new and important nature, and collected with the purpose of improving prison-discipline, by showing the state of prisons throughout Europe. To the praise of first discovering the abuses of prisons, or of originating prison-reform, he is not exactly entitled. In 1701-2, the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge appointed a committee to "visit Newgate and other gaols;" on which a report was On our return to Scotland, we stopped for a few drawn up by Dr. Bray. The report, indeed, was hours at Wick. It was late in the afternoon, and never published, and no known results were prothe fishermen, in their vessels, were going out of duced by it; but it showed that the subject had the harbor, to their nightly toil. Vessel after ves- attracted the attention of a body of men, and we sel, each manned with four stout rowers, came out know not how far the results might spread in an of the port-and after rowing a short distance, age which did not so readily run into print as ours. raised the sails and steered for the open sea, till all In 1728 a committee of the House of Commons the waters, from the land to the horizon, were full was appointed to inquire into the state of the gaols; of them. I counted them, hundreds after hundreds, and their report excited a general burst of indigtill I grew tired of the task. A sail of ten or twelve nation, steeled as the age was to hard usage, and hours brought us to Aberdeen, with its old cathe-produced an address to the crown to prosecute some dral, encumbered by pews and wooden partitions, of the offending parties. The comments of the and its old college, the tower of which is surmounted essayists, the pictures of the novelists, albeit not by a cluster of flying buttresses, formed into the affixing a sermon to their tale, could not have been resemblance of a crown. without great effect on the public mind. In Feb

This letter, you perceive, is dated at Aberdeen.ruary, 1773, before Howard began his tours of inIt was begun there, but I have written portions of it at different times since I left that city, and I beg that you will imagine it to be of the latest date. It is now long enough, I fear, to tire your readers, and I therefore lay down my pen.

From the Spectator.

DIXON'S LIFE OF HOWARD.* NOTWITHSTANDING the vast amount of good really accomplished by Howard the philanthropist, and the claims (greater than the reality) put forward by a school, which imitated rather than succeeded him, it may be doubted whether even his name and characteristics are so widely known to this generation as his new biographer assumes them to be. Many of those who know them have learned them from Burke's panegyric, in which artifice and an ungainly use of technical terms are more conspicuous than nature or eloquence. Nor, strictly speaking, is this to be wondered at. Either man is an ungrateful animal, or so many present things claim his attention, that the mass of us can only find time to look at those heroes of the past whose actions, as the rhetoricians say, "influenced the destinies of nations," or whose works, deeply founded in the nature of man, are ever present, interesting and instructing. It is a truth, whether palatable or not, that those who either by word or deed assist in overthrowing an evil, are almost as quickly forgotten as the evil itself. If they obtain a "household word" celebrity, it is when they act as well as speak or write, and combine instruction with subversion, as in the case of Luther.

A close consideration, we think, will show that

John Howard, and the Prison-World of Europe. From Original and Authentic Documents. By Hepworth Dixon. Published by Jackson and Walford.


spection, if not before the idea of gaol-reformation had taken a distinct form in his mind, Mr. Popham had brought in a bill to remedy an urgent practical evil, and the source of many other evils, by abolishing fees, and paying the gaoler out of the countyIt passed a second reading, but was withdrawn, to be amended and reïntroduced next session. In the interim, Howard had inspected many gaols, had accumulated many facts, had been in communication with Mr. Popham, and was ready to prove to Parliament the absolute need not only of this but further reformation. Great improvements took place, beyond the acts of Parliament, owing, no doubt, to Howard's exposures, and to his book, descriptive of the state of the gaols; but still he was fortunate in falling upon the instant of time. The ground was not only ready for the sower, but waiting.

We make these remarks to account for the immediate success of Howard, and for the great reputation he attained during his life (which time has failed to support); not with any view of depreciating his character or exertions. These were very great. He was a man whose labors in the cause of humanity were unceasing, and who ever carried his life and his purse in his hand. He was animated by that faith in his object, and consequent devotion to it, which is the source of all greatness, and perhaps of all success. He might fairly be accounted the first and greatest of the modern "philanthropists," were he not something far better. John Howard possessed prudence to guide his humanity; he studied the evils he would reform in the life, and rarely if ever proposed a remedy but what had been suggested to him by experience. He eschewed the wild excitement of public meetings, or the more intoxicating incense


of noble and courtly attentions. He went forth to period, when pronunciation is more easily achardship and labor, more like an apostle than a platform agitator; he daily risked his life among the filthy, the diseased, and the infected with the terrible gaol-fever; and he may be said to have died in the cause of suffering humanity.

We agree with Mr. Hepworth Dixon in thinking that the world should have a better account of the life and labors of such a man than yet existed; for even when biographies of considerable merit are extant, an age unacquainted with the hero requires more particulars than a contemporary is likely to supply, of the state of society in which he lived, the old condition of things on which he worked, and probably some account of his works themselves. Neither are the career and character of Howard without interest apart from his exertions as a philanthropist, since there is a curious interest in tracing the course of his life, and the manner in which he was thrown by events, and led by circumstances, into the field of public exertion and celebrity.

On his return to England he lodged at Stoke Newington, taking care of his health, which was still precarious, and studying natural philosophy and medicine. Having reason to be dissatisfied with his landlady for inattention during an illness, he shifted his quarters; and having been, as he thought, saved from death by the nursing of his new landlady, he considered it his duty to offer her his hand. The swain was about twenty-five, the lady fifty-two-an ordinary-looking woman, a widow, and a confirmed invalid, though she appears to have been a very kind, attentive, and cheerful woman, a good housekeeper, and an admirable nurse." She had also good sense enough to start objections to the proposal, but they were finally overruled by the arguments, if not the ardor, of the suitor, and Mrs. Loidore became Mrs. Howard. The match was as happy as such a match was likely to be; but the bride's health soon gave way, and she died in the third year of her marriage.


The father of Howard (and doubtless the fam- Her death left a vacuum in Howard's existence ily, had there been one) belonged to that straitest which he could not readily fill up. After a little school of English dissent which substituted a while of undetermined quiet, he resolved to go to starched sourness for the unnatural privations of Lisbon, then just overwhelmed by the earthquake the ascetics of the primitive and middle ages. He of 1755. But the seven years' war was raging; was engaged in business as a merchant, and retired the packet Howard sailed in was captured by a on a fortune sufficiently large to leave his son and French privateer; and he tasted the discomforts daughter an ample competence without any neces- of military imprisonment, without any of those sity for exertion. The day or year of John How-courtesies by which the usage of the established ard's birth is uncertain, a consequence of his father's services softens the unpleasantness of restraint, religious scruples. His monument in St. Paul's especially to civilians. gives the date as 1726; but Mr. Dixon, who appears to have examined the subject fully, thinks the "balance of evidence is in favor of 1725 or 1726, though personal friends of the philanthropist have named 1724, 1725, 1726, and 1727." His constitution was feeble, his health always delicate, and in fact only preserved in after life by rigid diet. He lost his mother in early infancy, and was something very like a dunce at school, having no Greek, little Latin, and a very scanty knowledge of letters in the sense of literature.

he was

Before the captured vessel was carried into the harbor, Howard says he was kept without food, and even water, for forty hours; to most men, an intolerable punishment, but his abstemious habits had well prepared him to bear such a trial-the commencement of a long series-without serious detriment to his health. When they were at length in the castle of the town, in a dungeon, dark, damp, landed, he was confined, with many other prisoners, and filthy, beyond description, where they were kept for several additional hours without nourishment. At last a leg of mutton was brought and thrown into the cell--as horse-flesh is thrown into the dens of wild beasts-for the starving captives to scramble for, tear with their teeth, and devour as best they could. In this horrible dungeon, thus fed, they were detained for a week. Six nights were they compelled to sleep-if sleep they could under such circumstances-upon the cold floor, with nothing but a handful of straw to protect them from the noxious damps and noisome fever of their overcrowded room. Thence our countryman was removed to Morlaix, and subsequently to Carpaix, where he resided for two months on parole.

Old Mr. Howard's determinations were like the laws of the Medes and Persians, and his son on leaving school was apprenticed to a wholesale grocer in Watling street, with the large premium of £700. This pursuit was apparently not much to the embryo philanthropist's liking; for on his father's death, in 1742, he quitted the warehouse, a circumstance which shows the confidence his father's executors had in his prudence, since, at the very earliest date assigned to his birth, not then out of his teens, and according to the monument, only in his seventeenth year. His It has been preferred as a charge against Howard, delicate health had probably suffered by the con- that he behaved towards his keepers, or at least tofinement of Watling street, for the first use he wards his captors, much à l'Anglais,—that is, with made of his freedom was to travel in France and somewhat of contemptuous hauteur; (how singular Italy. He was absent about two years, and while that the English language should have no word to in Italy gave a good deal of attention to art. As express that mixture of icy politeness and imperial he subsequently spoke French sufficiently well to become the recognized characteristic and distinction reserve, which all over Continental Europe has pass for a native, it is probable that he laid of Englishmen ;) and this, though not stated on the the foundation of his knowledge at this early | best authority, is not unlikely in itself. Howard

His example was followed by some of the

had a very high sense and sentiment of honor, and poor. an unconquerable disdain for the man who could be neighboring gentry; and Howard is entitled to the prevented from doing what was strictly right in merit of practically calling attention to that subitself by any fear of political or conventional consequences. It is more than probable, that a person ject, which is now called the "condition of Engof his mental and moral constitution would be apt to land" question. As this, however, was only to be consider a privateer as nothing more than a tolerated carried out by the personal trouble and attention ruthian, and deal with him accordingly. But once of those who had the control of it, and could neither on shore, and placed in legal custody, he seems to be delegated to paid agents, "settled" by act of have inspired every one who came into contact with Parliament, nor dealt with in the gross, like slavhim with respect and confidence in his uprightness. More than one occasion saw this exhibited in aery, prison-discipline, or even education, so far as remarkable manner. While at Carpaix, although reading and writing go, it has not made so much not an officer, and therefore not entitled to claim any seeming progress as the last three. Howard also indulgence according to the law of nations and the labored in his pleasant privacy to make up for the usages of war between the two countries, he was educational deficiencies of his youth; especially yet permitted by his gaoler to reside in the town, applying himself to natural philosophy, becoming upon his mere word being given that he would not a member of the Royal Society, and contributing attempt to escape. A similar kind of confidence was exhibited by the person at whose house he papers to the Transactions, though of a slight lodged. Though penniless, and a perfect stranger kind. The happiness of this quiet and useful life to his host, this man took him in upon the strength was put an end to in 1765, by the death of his of his unsupported representations, housed, fed, wife. She was confined with her first and only clothed, supplied him with money, and finally saw child on Wednesday the 27th March, and on Sunhim depart, with no other guarantee for repayment day the 31st, she died suddenly. Howard had than his bare promise. Even official persons were not impervious to the charm of this great character; gone to church as usual; on his return Mrs. Howfor, after some negotiation with these, he was perard was seized with a fit, and expired in his arms. mitted by them to return to England, in order that he might, with greater chance of success, endeavor to induce the government to make a suitable exchange for him, on simply pledging his honor that, if unsuccessful in his attempt, he would instantly return to his captivity.


No tongue, (says his biographer,) can tell, no pen describe the awful misery of the bereaved husband. calm and undemonstrative; but there were depths By temperament Howard was in his nature not easily fathomed. His love for his wife had been an illimitable passion. The day of His exchange was effected, and the necessity her death was held sacred in his calendar-kept of returning to France obviated. He then set forevermore as a day of fasting and meditation. about calling attention to the sufferings of British Everything connected with her memory, how disprisoners in France, and addressed the commis-tantly soever, was hallowed in his mind by the assioners of the sick and wounded upon the subject, depicting the miseries he himself had witnessed. He was thanked for his information, and steps were taken to act upon it; but, though the subject must often have recurred to his mind, he seemed to be satisfied with the particular remedy he had found for a particular evil. His mind was not only totally deficient in imagination, but even in that logical invention, or rather induction, which leads men to conclude the existence of many from that of few. It will be seen presently that the inquiry into the state of prisons was forced upon


sociation. Many years after her demise, on the eve of his departure on one of his long and perilous journeys across the continent of Europe, he was walking in the gardens with the son whose birth had cost the precious life, examining some plantations which they had recently been making, and arranging a plan for future improvements. On coming to the planted walk, he stood still; there was a pause in the conversation; the old man's thoughts were busy with the past; at length he broke silence-" Jack," said he, in a tender and solemn tone, "in case I should not come back, you will pursue this work, or not, as you may think proper; but remember, this walk was planted by your mother; and if you ever touch a twig of it, may my blessing never rest upon you.”

From the period of his release, (which must have taken place in or towards 1756,) until 1773, For eighteen months after his wife's death Howard's life was again passed in retirement. He Howard remained at Cardington, struggling to withdrew to his patrimonial property of Carding-subdue his sorrow in attending to his people and ton, near Bedford, and devoted himself to improv- his infant son; but nature at last gave way. Toing his estate and the condition of his laborers; wards the end of 1766, his medical attendants erecting a school, and beginning a system of pop-ordered change of scene as the sole chance of ular education for the children of the poor. In safety. He went to Bath, to London, and in the 1758 he married a second wife, though his first spring of 1767 to Holland. He came back somelove. He made the stipulation, suggested perhaps what improved in health; but as soon as his son by experience, that in all cases of difference here- was old enough to go to school, he set off for after, his voice should decide. The stipulation another tour in Italy; whence he returned in appears to have been needless. Mrs. Howard was 1770, but could not at first go back to Cardington. a very amiable woman, who consulted his wishes When he did, he resumed his old habits of superand forwarded his views in every way. During vision among the poor of the parish, which he his married life, considerable improvement was always carried on with something of patriarchal made in the circumstances and character of the authority. In 1773 he was chosen Sheriff of

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