Emily, who saw that her companion was impatient under the ill-timed recollections of poor old Margaret, availed herself of the threatening appearance of the clouds, to shorten their visit; so with an assurance to the old woman of visiting her soon again, they took their leave, and left the cottage. ter, bitter pang, that now we must part for ever! Yes, Emily, in this moment of terror, the sweetest, yet the saddest of my life, I must be allowed to speak to you to say all, and then!-Emily, I love you!-deeply, fondly love you!-nay, do not stop me now-when I have said this, I have said all. You know my faith They were nearly two miles distant from is plighted to another;-I have been rash-imthe Priory, and Ponsonby observing the fast prudent-against my will unfaithful. But disincreasing darkness, and feeling the sulphurous honourable or unprincipled, I cannot and I will oppression of the air, began to fear that the not be-I cannot offer you my heart; worthless storm would break before they could reach its as it is, it is the property of another, although shelter. He would have urged Emily to strike filled with your image alone. Hers it is to across the wood, as affording a nearer path, but keep, or to reject; but faithless, rebellious as just when about to propose this measure, the it is, it cannot be a gift for you. I now must first flash of lightning broke from the clouds, lay it open to that injured one. Oh that I had and he thought it safer to keep the open fields, never seen her, or seen but her alone!" He even at the risk of exposure to the coming paused, overcome with contending feelings: rain. Emily was no coward, but the rattling he looked at Emily, but her countenance expeal of thunder which immediately followed pressed no recoiling horror-there was no cold the vivid flash, declared how alarmingly close disdain in her tearful eyes; she still clung to the danger was, and clinging, pale and breath-him with confiding tenderness, and though she less, to her companion, she felt the blessing of having such an arm to support her trembling steps. "Lean on me, dearest Emily," said Ponsonby; "try to hasten your steps; if you can reach the old barn at the end of the field, it will afford you shelter from the rain;" and they quickened their pace with this hope. But now the clouds burst at once over their heads, the rain descended in torrents, and when they reached the old barn, they found that all the protection they could gain was from the outer wall, for the door was fastened so securely as to resist all Harry's most powerful attempts at forcing an entrance. In vain he led her to the most sheltered side of the wall, the violence of the gale made it impossible for him to screen her from the drenching rain, and Ponsonby saw with dismay, her light garments wet through, and clinging to her slender form. In a moment he stripped off his coat, in spite of Emily's entreaties to desist, and holding it between her and the blast, he placed himself as a further shelter against its fury. At length came a flash of such startling brightness, that Emily clung to her companion with convulsive fear, and Ponsonby himself was thoroughly alarmed. He drew the trembling and almost lifeless girl to his bosom, and gazing earnestly on her pale face, he conjured her to open her eyes and look at him!-to speak to him if but a word-for her silence and death-like paleness had filled him with unutterable terror."Emily! you are not hurt?-you are only frightened? Oh say so, dearest! speak to me if it be but a word!"—" No, I am not hurt, and I ought not to be frightened," said the still trembling girl; "but, dearest Harry, that flash that awful flash! it seemed to fall so frightfully near to where you stood. Oh, God! if it had fallen on you!"-and she looked up at him with an expression of tenderness and anguish that thrilled to his inmost soul. "Emily, dearest Emily! and was it for me you feared? and would you have regretted me-would you have grieved for me had I been taken from you?then grieve for me-then pity me now! Oh, Emily! believe me that the stroke which would have laid me at your feet-which would have purchased for me those precious tears, would be less terrible than what I now feel,-the bit wept, they did not seem bitter tears. He clasped her to his heart: he felt he was beloved, and tasted for a moment the deepest bliss this world has to bestow. It was but for a moment-the next he almost thrust her from him. "Oh, Emily! do not look upon me thus, or I shall be a villain!" and he tore himself shuddering from her arms. At this moment, the voice of Mr. Devereux was heard approaching them, and Ponsonby hailed it as that of his guardian angel. Too much agitated to speak, he placed Emily in her father's arms, and was hastily retreating, when his guardian caught him by the arm. "What has happened, Harry?" inquired the anxious father; are either of you hurt?"-But still receiving no reply, he looked more suspiciously at the conscious pair-the truth appeared to burst upon him-" Go, young man," said he, in a tone of displeasure-" go and order the carriage here-it is well for some that it is at no great distance, for neither of you seem very able for much exertion. It will be well also to assume a little more composure before reaching home; for there is one waiting your arri val who may as little comprehend your present agitation as I do. Emily, your cousin is come, and Mrs. Hartley's carriage now waits for you." Ponsonby waited to hear no more. Darting from his guardian, he beckoned for the carriage to attend them, and plunging into the wood, he took a path which led him in an opposite direction to the Priory. The rain had now ceased; the blue sky appeared once more, and the last rays of the setting sun were reflected from a thousand sparkling gems, which bent the heavy branches to the ground. But the unhappy Ponsonby heeded not the beauty of the sky, nor yet the wetness of the tangled wood through which he forced his way. To remove from Stokely, and from all it contained, was the only distinct feeling of his heart. Yet the freshness of the air, and the fragrance of the woods, allayed by degrees the fever of his mind, and cooled his burning brow. He reached a summer-house in the furthest part of the wood, and resolved to remain there, until all chance of meeting with Emily should be over. He could not bear the thought of seeing together the two beings whem on earth he had best loved and most deeply injured. Many were the agitating thoughts which tortured the brain of Ponsonby during this anxious interval; but none of them was so painful as the recollection of the earnest persuasion, by which he overcame the reluctant timidity of his young and gentle Emily, and forced from her a promise of being his, and his alone; and this too without the permission of her uncle. He well remembered that this promise was mutual, and could he hesitate a moment to perform his part in it?-No! he hated himself for the very thought; and rose, determined that the night should not close until all had been confessed to her who held his plighted faith. As he drew nigh to the Priory, he was thankful that the deepening twilight would conceal in some degree his agitation; but still reluctant to enter, he sought a momentary respite by passing into an adjoining shrubbery, which surrounded the house. A glass-door from the drawing-room opened upon a little lawn, fringed on both sides with flowering shrubs, and Ponsonby knew that from this opening he could observe, whether the room was yet lighted up, or if the family were assembled there. All was dark within; but his attention was soon drawn to another quarter by hearing the voice of Mr. Devereux in earnest conversation with another person at no great distance; in the next moment he saw the figure of his guardian, with that of his now dreaded Emily, at the end of the walk into which he was about to enter. Ponsonby hesitated for a moment whether he should approach them; but hesitation came too late-he saw that he was observed; for Emily, the justly offended Emily, hastily pulled over her face a veil, which till then had been thrown back. "She dreads to look upon me," thought Harry; "perhaps she already knows how unworthy I am of her-but meet we must;" and without farther delay he advanced towards the bench upon which they were seated. His guardian arose to meet him, and, with more of emotion than of anger in his countenance, held out his hand to the agitated young man. "Harry," said he, "I am glad you have come at last. Shame and self-reproach could alone excuse your absence at such a time; but if you are forgiven here, I must not be obdurate. From this lady I have heard all-all that I ought to have heard from you long ago; but I will spare my reproaches; you have a powerful advocate in her breast, whom it would be in vain for me to gainsay. Take then the heart you gained in infancy—it has never wandered from you-and may God bless you in each other!" With these words he took the trembling hand of Emily, and placing it in that of Ponsonby, he left them there alone. "Emily! Miss Devereux! can you forgive me?" said Ponsonby in extreme agitation, as raising the passive hand that lay in his, he put it to his lips." Oh call me not by so cold a name," exclaimed a voice which thrilled his soul with rapture. "Oh, Harry, forgive my part in this deception, and look upon me," said the blushing girl, as she threw back the veil from her face; and Harry gazed upon each well known feature, and clasped to his heart his only love-his first loved-last loved Emily. The moon was high in the heavens before Emily and her lover recollected the hour. It was the sound of music in the drawing-room that first drew their attention. "It is my cousin singing to her father," said Emily; "and now, Harry, you shall see for the first time this dreaded Emily, of whom, poor innocent thing, we have made such a cat's-paw; but it was all my uncle's doing, and I believe he did it as much to punish us for our fault as to prove our affection."-"Thank God, the punishment and the probation have ended both so happily," exclaimed Harry. "Oh, Emily, with what unmingled pleasure shall I now listen to those sweet words, 'Et l'on revient toujours, toujours From the London Magazine. STANZAS. TO THE sun is in the West, The stars are on the sea,Each kindly hand I've press'd, And now-farewell to thee!Our cup of parting's done, 'Tis the darkest 1 can sip, And I've pledged them every one, With my heart, and with my lip; But I came to thee the last That in sadness we might throw One long look o'er the past Together,-ere I go. I met thee in my spring, When my heart was like the fly That on its airy wing Sports the live-long summer by; I loved thee with the love Of a wild, and burning boy, Thy being was inwove With my grief-and with my joy; Thou wert to me a star In the silence of the night,A thing to see from far, With a fear-and a delight. The hour of joy is gone. When man and man depart, The deep-wrung hand alone May tell the anguish'd heart; No tear may stain the eye, And their parting look must be Like the stillness in the sky, Ere the storm hath swept the sea: But when we say farewell To her we love the best, One bitter tear may swell Nor shame the stoutest breast. I have smiles for men's acclaim- I would dwell a thing apart A shadow on thine eye. When the wine cup circles round, With a prayer, if heav'n allow, Beloved one-farewell! And tho' no hope be given, What the dew is to the rose, In the hour of my repose; To light, tho' but a gloom. When the shade is on thy dwelling, islands, to be saved from the wreck, what opinion could posterity form of the nations as to the degree of civilization which they had attained, their policy, their religion, and their arts?" We admit that were this imaginary catastrophe to occur, a very inadequate estimate would be formed of the civilization, religion, and arts of the parent states; but still it would be found, on a fair investigation of the subject, that these must have been great, pow. erful, and highly advanced in all the arts of life; and unless the beneficial traces of their influence in the colonies were also swept away with European records, there would be abun dant evidence to show that large uncultivated districts had been rendered productive, that the arts of life had been promoted, that religion had established her benignant sway, that civil zation had been set on foot among hordes of naked barbarians, and that although the earlier histories present too many scenes of horror, yet the results have been gradually tending to the welfare of those now considered most oppressed. In short, we are convinced that there would be found much to admire, in spite of the regret which must be inseparable from the history of negro slavery and of the ill-fated aborigines. But as such destruction is at least improbable, we must look at the real case, and we shall find, that although, on a narrow view of the question, there are few ennobling topics in the earlier periods, of late there has passed much in the western hemisphere to command our attention; and if there be little to rival the ages of chivalry, yet there are events which illustrate great and solemn truths, and as such forcibly demand the consideration both of the philosopher and politician. In truth, the pol tical events of recent times so far transcend in magnitude and importance those of the earlier periods, as now to possess an overwhelming interest; and not contented with our school-boy recollections of Buccaneers or Bryan Edwards, wo seek to gratify our new wants by searching out other sources of information. Among the first that have afforded us the means of supplying our appetite, Baron Humboldt stands without a rival, whether we consider the er tent or the variety of his labours. His noIT has long been the fashion to consider the merous works are well known to the public; West Indies merely as a vast sugar garden, in them were first unveiled the mysteries of cultivated by slavery, and holding out nothing what may, in contradistinction to the United worthy of inquiry excepting the rapid acquisi-States, as well as to our actual knowledge of tion of wealth and the degrading influence of bondage. A better knowledge of the subject gives a prodigious extension to these views, and the philosophic inquirer may trace in the western world the history of man in his earliest stages. An ingenious and highly gifted contemporary has recently remarked, that "were the history of Spain, and France, and Great Britain, to perish, as that of the early great monarchies of the world has perished, and only these colonial annals, for the three centuries which have elapsed since the discovery of the And the murmur on thine ear, To flatter-and to smile, And many to beguile, When wither'd is the token, And all unlink'd the chain,With a faith unwarp'd-unbroken, I may kneel to thee again. From the Foreign Quarterly Review. HUMBOLDT'S CUBA.* .. Essai Politique sur L'Isle de Cuba, par Alexandre de Humboldt. Avec une carte, et un Supplement qui renferme des Considérations sur la Population et le Commerce de l'Archipel des Antilles et de Colombia. 2 tom. 8vo. Paris. 1826. them, be termed the New Americas; and the Baron, pursuing his useful career, has lately put forth a statistical account of the island of Cuba, of which we shall give some account, as well as of some of the most interesting topies connected with it. Cuba was discovered by Columbus in his first voyage, on the 28th of October, 1492, and was considered by him the island of Cipango, which he had imagined to be in those seas. Shortly afterwards he discovered Haiti, and although an enthusiastic admirer of his earlier discovery, abandoned it for the extensive plains of La Vega, influenced probably by the expectation of finding the precious metals in greater abundance in the district of Cibao. It is a little singular that this great navigator should at last have remained satisfied with the notion that Cuba was a portion of the Aures Chersonesus, and have never determined its insular character. Ocampo settled this point in 1508, and about three years after, Velasquez, with three hundred men, firmly established the Spanish authority, and became the first European governor-an office which he retained until his death in 1524. From that time to the present day the island has remain ed under the rule of Spain, with two short intervals, when it was subdued by the British arms; first in 1669, by the celebrated Sir Henry Morgan, and secondly in 1761. With the various changes that have taken place within the last three hundred and thirty-six years we cannot now meddle, as the present state of the island furnishes as many materials as can be discussed within our limits. The first volume of the Political Essay contains an analysis of the materials for a map of Cuba, and discusses in succession, 1. The importance of the island of Cuba, as well as of the city of Havana: 2. The extent, territorial division, and climate: 3. The population: 4. The agriculture: 5. The trade: 6. The finances. These disquisitions are followed by some considerations on the question of slavery, and by a personal narrative of MM. Humboldt and Bonpland's residence in Cuba. The second volume is chiefly occupied by an essay on the consumption of sugar in Europe and elsewhere, and the details of various physical observations. A supplement, containing a general disquisition on the continent, as well as the islands of the West Indian Archipelago, terminates the work. The preliminary analysis is described as forming a part of the materials for a geographical and physical atlas of the equinoxial regions of the new continent, in which the author proposes to determine the internal geography of America by his own astronomical observations, made during his residence in that part of the world, and by those of others subsequently collected. In the map itself, (which is the most correct that we have seen.) ample use has been made of the labours of Robredo, Ferrer, Galiano, Le Maur, Del Rio, Gamboa, Puysegur, Cevallos, Bauza, (who in himself is a tower of strength,) Luyando, Oltmans, and our own De Mayne, whose labours in the West Indian seas cannot be sufficiently valued, without an actual knowledge, such as we have, of his unceasing exertions, for a series of years, in situations the most calculated to exhaust the powers of active industry. From these authorities, collated with his own researches, M. Humboldt has fixed forty-six points in Cuba itself, and about twenty others in the Archipelago, all in connexion with each other. This ready adoption of the experience of others is not only creditable to M. Humboldt, but has substantially advanced the interests of science; for we are satisfied that had he taken a less liberal view of the matter, and founded his calculations exclusively on researches which depended on the chronometer (now in Mexico) which was, we believe, principally used on the continent, the results would have been most lamentably erroneous. The means of correction that have been employed must have counteracted this source of inaccuracy. In the body of the analysis there is a very interesting acMuseum.-VOL. XIV. count of the progress of our geographical knowledge of Cuba, which is well worthy of perusal. The importance of Cuba is to be estimated (as shall be hereafter more fully shown) not only from its extent, the fertility of its soil, richness of its productions, or the peculiar constitution of its population, but from its geographical position and its magnificent harbours. In point of extent, it is one-half larger than Haiti; its productions, which have prodigiously increased within the last thirty years, are sugar, coffee, wax, and the most useful objects of tropical growth; its fertility cannot be exceeded in certain districts; and its large population contains at least three-fifths of free men: but it derives its political value from the situation it occupies and the facilities of its ports. The Gulf of Mexico forms a circular basin, having a diameter exceeding 250 leagues; in fact, a Mediterranean sea with two outlets, of which the shores from Florida to Cape Catoche belong to Mexico or the United States; while Cuba, or rather its northern coasts, constitute the south-eastern boundary, allowing only a passage for two branches of the Gulf stream. In the most eligible part of this position stands the city of Havana, with its splendid harbour and defences. M. Humboldt fairly considers that this capital bears nearly the same relation in point of facility of access to the shores of the Gulf, that Cadiz does to the Straits of Gibraltar. Perhaps it may be unphilosophic to think of its value, under the existing revolutions; but is utterly impossible for an Englishman to enter the harbour, in which the navy of England might lie, and know that the possession of it is an object of greedy desire with France, the United States of America, and at least two of the new republics, without feeling that the British minister who calmly resigned so valuable a station, (now invaluable,) well merited the execrations of his countrymen. The elongated form of Cuba puts it into ready communication with Haiti, Jamaica, Yucatan, and the southern states of the American Union. Formerly the Havana was the military port of Mexico, and received from the continental treasury, even as lately as 1808, more than 1,800,000 hard dollars annually. Fortunately, since Mexico has thrown off the Spanish yoke, the liberalised system of trade in Cuba has rendered these supplies not only unnecessary, but has furnished means for most efficiently aiding the mother country. Havana, in fact, now ranks among the first commercial ports in the world. It would be curious as well as instructive to trace the causes of this revolution, but we must content ourselves with observing, notwithstanding the concurrence of political events, and the ports of Cuba being free, that the prodigious results could never have been realized, had it not been for the moderation of the governor, the protection afforded to individuals perhaps obnoxious in Madrid, and the general prudence of the inhabitants. M. Humboldt very happily describes the Havana itself. He says, "The appearance of Havana at the entrance of the port is one of the most lively and most picturesque that can be enjoyed on the shores No. 83.-2 P of equinoxial America, to the north of the equator. This situation, celebrated by travellers of all nations, has not the luxuriant vegetation that adorns the banks of the river of Guayaquil, nor the savage grandeur of the rocky coasts of Rio Janeiro, two ports of the southern hemisphere; but the grace which in our climates embellishes the scenes of cultivated na. ture, is here mingled with the majesty of vegetable forms, and the organic vigour that characterizes the torrid zone. In the blending of such delightful impressions, the European forgets the danger which threatens him in the bosom of the populous cities of the Antilles : he seeks to seize at one view the different portions of a vast landscape, to contemplate the strong fortifications that crown the rocks to the east of the port-the internal basin surrounded by villages and farms-the palms that rise to an immense height-the city half concealed by a forest of masts and the sails of vessels. On entering the harbour of the Havana you pass between the fortification of the Morro, (Castillo de los Santos Reyes,) and the smaller fort of San Salvador de la Punta: the opening is only from 170 to 200 toises in width, and it preserves this breadth about 3-5ths of a mile. Issuing from this, after leaving to the north the beautiful castle of San Carlos de la Cabana, and the Casa Blanca, we reach a basin in the form of the ace of clubs, of which the larger axis from S.S.W. to N.N.E. is 21-5th miles long. This basin communicates with three bights, those of Regla, Guanavacoa, and Atarès, at the last of which there are some springs of fresh water. The city of Havana, surrounded by walls, forms a promontory, bounded to the south by the arsenal, to the north by the fortress La Punta. Beyond some sunken ships and the shoal of La Luz, the depth of water decreases from eight or ten fathoms to five or six. The castles of Santo Domingo, of Atarès, and of San Carlos del Principe, defend the city to the west; they are separate from the inner wall, the one 660 and the other 1240 toises. The intermediate space is occupied by the suburbs, (Arrabales or Barrios extra muros,) of Horcon, of Jesus Maria, Guadalupe, and Senor de la Salud, which from year to year encroach on the Champ de Mars (Campo de Marte). The great buildings of the Havana, the cathedral, the palace of the government, the house of the commandant of the marine, the arsenal, the post-office, the manufactory of tobacco, are less remarkable for their beauty than for the solidity of their construction: most of the streets are narrow, and the greater number still unpaved. As the stones come from Vera Cruz, and their freight is extremely costly, a short time before my arrival the extravagant idea was entertained of supplying their place by large trunks of trees, as is done in Russia and Germany in the construction of dykes across marshy ground. This project was soon abandoned, and travellers recently arrived see with surprise most beautiful logs of mahogany sunk in the mud of the Havana. At the pe riod of my stay, few towns of Spanish America presented, from the want of a good police, a more hideous appearance. One walked up to the knees in mud; what with the multitude of caleches or volantes--the characteristic carriages of Havana-carts laden with sugar, and porters elbowing the foot passengers, the situation of the latter was rendered painful and humiliating. The smell of the tussajo (badly dried beef) frequently poisoned the houses and narrow streets. It is asserted that the police has remedied these defects, and that latterly very sensible improvements have been effected in the cleanliness of the streets. The houses are better ventilated, and the street "de los Mercaderes" offers a handsome appearance. Here. as in our oldest cities in Europe, a plan of streets badly traced can be but slowly corrected."-vol. i. pp. 9-12. There are two handsome walks; one, the Alameda, is close to the theatre, which is tastefully decorated, and possesses a respecta ble corps dramatique and orchestra; the other, beyond the walls of the city, is chiefly frequented at sunset when the coolness invites to exertion. In the cathedral there is an oval slab, with a meagre Latin inscription, to the memory of Columbus. There is also a small leaden vessel containing the fragments of some bones and dust, that were brought from the city of Santo Domingo, as the last earthly remains of the discoverer of the New World; but it is by no means certain that this was correct, and indeed it is more than probable that they are the relics of Columbus's son. M. Moreau de St. Mery, in his history of Spanish St. Domingo, details some curious facts on this subject, which may be consulted with advantage by those who take an interest in it. The population of the Havana and its suburbs has increased very considerably since 1791, and it is curious to remark the alterations in the proportions of the different castes between that year and 1810, which M. Humboldt has given in a tabular form, which we copy: |