that day. So effectually did the accident paralyze that mass of people, that all, with one accord, sat gazing vacantly at each other, neither speaking nor moving. After a time, some of the boats without orders, began to leave the fishing-ground, and were soon followed by the rest, making their way to the "Wellington." The Inspector was too well acquainted with native prejudice to attempt any expostulation on this diversion he, however, sent for the old Shark-Charmer, who attended the summons with the utmost effrontery. In reply to the question, how he dared to permit a shark to injure a diver in the employ of the British Government, he said there were some spirits adverse to the powers he possessed; and that, during the brief time of his taking a little refreshment, one of those antagonists had broken his charm and unloosed the jaws of the shark! All was now vainno more fishing; and, although the sea breeze was still lagging lazily behind, the fleet pushed shorewards, the boatmen plying their oars for a few miles. An hour later the breeze came up from the southwest -fitfully at first-then steadily up went the great spider-legged bamboo masts and the wide-winged sails, and the sharp-nosed boats slipped noiselessly landward. Our approach to the shore was signalized by a gun thousands were again on the beach awaiting our coming, and anxious to hear of our success. As we drew near, a long, wild shout rent the air; then a pause. No reply was given from the boats, the spirits of all were depressed by the accident, not so much from sympathy with the poor sufferer, as from a feeling that the accident at so early a stage was a bad omen. The whole of the fleet having reached the shore, a party of Malay riflemen and Peons cleared an open space between them and the crowd on the beach, so as to allow the unloading of the boats, which was at once commenced. The oysters were divided on the sandy shore into four equal parts, three of which went to the Government, or the renter, as the case might be; the remaining fourth was shared amongst the boatmen, the divers, the fandal, and the boat-owner; the divers receiving twice as much as the boatmen, and the owner rather more than the divers. The Government oysters were carried up in baskets to large bamboo inclosures, called Cottoos, where they were kept until sold by auction on the following day. The native shares of the fish were disposed of in a similar way; though, sometimes, they were retained by their owners on their own account, and the pearls found in them sold afterwards. I did not go off to the next day's fishing, being desirous of witnessing the oyster auction: the boats, however, went as before, the Shark-Charmer having woven a spell of extra potency; which, it was said, would astonish the marine monsters, and secure their jaws as effectually as if fastened by Chubb's detector locks. The biddings were carried on with an eagerness almost amounting to frenzy. The oysters were offered in lots of one thousand, taken from the Cottoos indiscriminately. Some fine-looking fellows went as high as six pounds the thousand; many, however, were knocked down for half that price, and not a few realized no more than fifteen shillings a lot, about the price of ordinary native oysters in England. Had the bidders believed that their admission into Paradise depended on their obtaining a few lots of these oysters, their mad excitement could scarcely have been exceeded. One old man, a Moorman, I particularly noticed. His entire suit of wearing apparel could hardly have been worth one of the oysters he had been bidding for. Avarice was deeply marked in his sharp features; and when he at last succeeded in obtaining one lot, I thought he would have gone wild with joy. He leaped about, danced, laughed, and sung bits of old musty ditties. Nor was he quiet until he had removed his heap to a miserable little shed hard by. There he sat down, close beside his lot of fish, and burying his head between his hands with the elbows resting on his knees, remained contemplating his little fortune, longing, yet half afraid to open some of them. I left him thus gazing on the oysters, as though each living thing held his own life and immortality within its rocky shell. There were many wealthy traders there from all parts of India; but many more had with difficulty scraped together sums varying from a dozen pagodas to a dozen dollars; men who had purchased or borrowed the means of bidding at this intoxicating auction; men who had left their famished fam ilies without the means of obtaining a mouthful of rice: who had torn the gold bangles and ear-rings from their wives and children, and melted them into ingots, to deal in the maddening trade of Aripo. Some returned home rich beyond their expectations: some with little fortunes; but many went back ruined, beggared, and brokenhearted, to repay their loans or pledges; while some fled in terror to strange landshaving lost the means of replacing moneys taken by them from sources of trust-being ruined in means and reputation. All this happens at every Pearl Fishery, and is not to be prevented, save by offering the fish in larger lots; which, though it might not prove quite so remunerative to the Government, would save much evil and suffering. No further accidents from sharks happened whilst I was on the Banks;" but in truth, at the end of the first week of the fishery, I was glad to avail myself of the opportunity of returning to Colombo in a Government boat. The novelty of the scene had worn off; one day's operations were precisely those of another. The scenes of drunken riot and dissipated frenzy were daily becoming more violent and disgusting. Added to this, the intolerable stench from the accumulating myriads of oysters hastening to decomposition, rendered a residence on shore, within a mile or two of the Cottoos, quite intolerable to one who did not in any way partake of the excitement of the lottery in pearls. The oysters are left in heaps for about thirty days, at the end of which time they become perfectly decomposed. In that state they are placed in a large canoe, and well but carefully washed with plenty of water, so as to remove the rotten portion of the fish, leaving the pearls and the shells in the water. Some of the more needy purchasers have not patience to await this process, but at once proceed to work by opening the fresh oysters, and so learn their good fortune or their beggary. So eager are all to make money at these auctions, that the Cottoos, or bamboo inclosures and the washingplaces, are all offered for sale at the expiration of the cleansing processes, and eagerly purchased by those who hope to discover, in the sandy ground, some pearls which may have escaped the care of the former occupants. This they often succeed in doing. Some conception may be formed of the immense masses of oysters which at these times lay putrefying on the burning sands of Aripo, when I mention that each boat will bring on shore, in one trip, from ten to twenty thousand of fish, making a daily total of from two to four millions for the whole fleet. The extremely hazardous results of these auctions may be gathered from the fact, that whilst in some instances as many as a hundred pearls of various weights and value are found in one oyster of large size, one hundred oysters may be opened without finding in them a single pearl. The natives of India have a singular belief, with regard to the origin of pearls: it is, that those beautiful concretions are congealed dew-drops, which Buddha, in certain months, showers upon the earth, and are caught by the oysters whilst floating on the waters to breathe. The priests-ever alive to their own interests-keep up the strange belief, and make it the pretext for exacting from the divers and boatmen of their faith what are termed "charity oysters," for the use of Buddha, who, when thus propitiated, according to their showing, will render the fish more rich in pearls in future seasons. From "Eliza Cook's Journal," ALFRED TENNYSON AND HIS POEMS. THE post of poet laureate could not have been bestowed more worthily than upon Alfred Tennyson. The duties of the office have faded into nothingness, and the only purpose it can now serve, if any, is to set a mark of honor upon genius, and to recompense those men who, though they have attained fame, are but scantily rewarded in a pecuniary sense. We do not pretend to know any thing of the private circumstances of Alfred Tennyson, but we fear that poets of his class, however highly they may be estimated, however thickly their laurels may cluster around their brows, are appreciated and read by a comparatively small class. It requires an amount of intelligence greater than is possessed by the mass of those among whom literature has made its way-it requires a taste, only to be acquired by careful cultivation, to sympathize with the sentiment, and enter into the spirit of his poetry; and the whole of the customs we might say that Tennyson lives in the under which people in a commercial age world of timekeepers around him, not conlive, the majority of the habits which use tent to keep time, but wishing to know why has made a second nature to them, are ad- he and his fellows keep it; or-better and verse to a full comprehension of the poetic more poetical comparison, and, therefore, genius of Tennyson. Such poems as those fitter to use for a poet-he is like the of Charles Mackay, appealing energetically deep, still lake, so o'erbowered with the to the passions which lay upon the surface, arching trees, which, throwing their limbs twining themselves in among the daily from side to side, shut out the sunshine, thoughts of men, mixing up with the busi- that from the very plenty of the materials ness of their lives, showing out their politi- for reflection, its dark, still, polished surcal efforts, depicting the miseries and the face does but image forth its own depth. wrongs which prompt philanthropic exer- We do not think we could find an apter tion and social amelioration, we are pre- comparison than that to illustrate the orpared to find selling in large impressions. der of Tennyson's mind. It is so full of Such poems are suitable to the active, bust- thought that it seems almost thoughtless. ling, trading spirit of the age. They are, Like the disk with many colors upon its to use a word familiar to metaphysicians, surface, which, when revolving swiftly, objective. They teach by things rather seems colorless and motionless, the very than by thoughts. They deal with matters activity of his mind makes him appear common to all. The eyes of the mind among slow and tardy to the reader who cannot men of action—and none but such men appreciate purely subjective thought; and thrive in this era, or exercise great influence then, too, every tract he passes along is so -are turned outwards upon the world full of objects on every side, that, rapidly and the popular poetry of the age follows as he moves, he appears to keep near the the same direction; but Tennyson, while he same spot, for every step tempts him right has passion and sentiment to overflowing, and left into the paths of thought which and sometimes dashes off with straightfor- open out to his vision on every side. This ward description, is too full of thought to apparent want of progress, too, is made keep closely enough to his subject and remore apparent by the distance at which the strict himself to its practical bearings. His philosophic as well as poetic mind of Tenpoetry, therefore, smacks of philosophy al-nyson is from the general mind of the day; ways, and sometimes deals with the gravest and it is here, as it is in the material landmetaphysical questions in the most earnest tone. He is for ever looking within, endeay-scape, intervening space seems by its own oring as it were to comprehend himself, and, through himself, humanity. He is not satisfied with seeing the material object, he looks for the idea which underlies it; he is not content with feeling the sensation of a fact thrown from the outer world, and imaged back from the mirror of the mind, but he must seek for the links of the chain which connects mere sensation with con scious perception, and memory with both; and beyond all he must strive to penetrate to those most mysterious of all sympathies which attract us, unknown to ourselves, in this or that direction, and direct the course of man's life. If we could compare men with watches, Subject is used to express mind, soul, or personality of the thinker. Object expresses any thing or every thing external to the mind.-Knight's National Cyclopædia. vastness to obliterate apparent motion. Mount a swift horse, throw the reins upon his neck, dash your heels into his sides, and while the closely-adjacent fields and hedgerows, gardens, and cottages seem to fly past you with the speed of light, and your blood is boiling with exhilaration in the swiftness of the mad gallop, cast a glance upon the hill painted blue by dis You tance which bounds the horizon, where be. that. You may whip and spur and fly onward till your horse drops beneath you, but there it is still upon your right hand or your left, or straight before you, as the case may You seem no nearer to it--no farther from it. It is too far off to be influenced by your petty progress, and though it may be whirling round upon its own axis with inconceivable velocity, and dashing through space with a speed which would make one giddy even to think of, its motion belongs to another world than yours, and to you it is motionless. of the satisfaction of material wants shall make men less worldly, and then boyhood and manhood instead of seeming two dis tinct and different states apart in action and wish, may blend as gently and imperceptibly into each other as the white and red upon the rose leaf, each animated by the same spirit of loveliness, each borrowing a kindred charm from the other; but now schemes, and wiles, and intrigues shut out the man from the boy, we look upon ourselves as we were, as other beings from ourselves as we are, often with scarcely a sym There are other characteristics of Tenny-pathy or an emotion in common, and the son's mind which, at the present period, dis- life of men is sharp, shrewd, self-contained, associate him from the world, and most tend and sneering. As men are, so to a great exto prevent him from becoming immediately tent will their favorite authors be; associaand extensively popular. It is not flatter- tions here, unlike those between the sexes, ing to our own age to say that there is in arise rather from likeness than from contrast, it, in the main, a great want both of sim- and the world's popular writers, with a very plicity and earnestness. Education, much few exceptions, are like the world in kind as we rejoice in its diffusion, has as yet although superior in degree. The great spread widely rather than sunk deeply. charm in reading is to find our own thoughts It has widened like a river overflowing its mirrored forth from another mind with banks and carrying its fertilizing waters in greater beauty and precision, and in a cleartiny rivulets to the hitherto parched and er light than ourselves can embody them. barren ground beside it, but becoming more Though fond of newness (rather than freshshallow in mid-channel. Men in the massness) we seek for the new in expression are knowing rather than really learned. They are playing with knowledge to the full, as much as working with it—they to the full, as much perhaps more, resemble the lecturer making pretty many-colored fires on the platform of a popular institute, as the sage in his closet toiling on painfully to the comprehension of a hidden law of nature. And as for that earnestness which so generally belongs to simplicity, we do not often see or hear of any thing so really simple or earnest in the world of men, as the frequent occurrence of a child seeking to know how and why he is. If men could, as some great and good men have done, retain in their maturity, or rather call up again, the freshness of wonder, admiration, and curiosity which make so much of the happiness of the boy, we should have a world more earnest, and thoughtful, and wise, and better than it is a world more capable of appreciating the poetry of Tennyson. Perhaps it may be a Utopian thought, but it is so beautiful to the soul that we would fain still have the wish the father to the thought, and believe it; perhaps the time may come when the fullness more than in idea. It appears as though what we strive to know must have some defined perceptible relation to what we know already, and we follow those who though beyond are in the same track as ourselves, without the wish, perhaps without the capacity, to diverge into the paths where others are roaming. The main highway of the world is that on which the feet of the many are travelling, which is worn smooth with constant friction; and all, but very few having originality or boldness to project or diverge into a comparatively unbeaten road, follow the trodden one as surely as water flows along the channel cut for its passage, or worn for it by the current long years ago. In such a state of things, Tennyson, like Emerson and Shelley, with both of whom he has much in common as well as many points of dissimilarity, will be more talked of than read, more read than understood; though perhaps few libraries will be reckoned complete without him-it will be long ere he sinks into the hearts and thoughts of men, and becomes "familiar in their mouths as household words," and to such a man the poet-laureateship, conferred by those who are able to appreciate his merits, is a fitting recognition and a slight reward in the present. For the future, without pretending to the mantle of prophecy, we may safely predict that like a piece of gold thrown into a stream, his thoughts and words will sink deeply and richly into the current of life. There is another element of Tennyson's nature which is worthy of notice, and confirms us in the opinion that he does not live in his own age. He has that constant tendency towards sombreness rather than sadness which is a general accompaniment of deep thought. The world in its moments of relaxation is a merry world. It loves comedy rather than tragedy, a crowd gathers round the bawler of a comic song far more readily than one who trolls a lay of sentiment, and when it seems to be sad, its sadness is rather the counterfeit of the melodrama than the genuine grief of the tragedy. Thoughtful melancholy is not sufficiently exciting for those who live a life of constant action, and now is not the time to sympathize with Tennyson, many of whose lyrics, while delighting us with their deep, heartfelt joy, remind us of a gay, green wood in summer's prime, with the leaves glittering in the sunshine, and the birds twittering cheerily from every spray, but where among all the sighing wind comes now and then with hollow melancholy moaning. excite thought. The grass-grown walks, the Leaving door and windows wide: What more could have been said though a hundred stanzas had been written? What more do we need to know? It is not the picture we wish to see for its own sake, but for the impression it makes upon our minds! What interest have the gray crumbling ruins of the ancient castle for us, except in the associations that belong to them-the thoughts they create. Here as elsewhere the ideal underlies the real, and gives it true interest. We feel no We have before us at the moment the sympathy with material ruins themselves, poems of Tennyson, published between 1830 but only with the "life and thought" which and 1842, and through some of them, after have gone away; and this idea once realthus feebly attempting to delineate the na-ized, what is there more to do but to turn ture of that mind which but few are fitted from the crumbling wall and say with to comprehend, we shall glance in order to Tennysonillustrate our remarks by the poet's own works, reserving his later works-"The Princess" and "In Memoriam," for a future paper. For the sake of contrasting more forcibly Tennyson with those writers of whom perhaps poor Thomas Hood is the highest exemplar, we turn to the short For the way in which our poet mingles poem entitled the "Deserted House," a fair sadness with joy, generally making the forparallel to Hood's "Haunted House," from mer the sequence to the latter, we take a which we took some extracts in a former few stanzas from "The May Queen" and its paper in this Journal. That poem of continuations "The New-Year's Eve" and Hood's was a perfect example of the man- "The Conclusion." Look at the picture of ner in which an objective mind of a high light-hearted happiness in the beautiful joyorder would treat such a subject. If our ous girl who has been chosen from her comreaders will turn to it they will see how, panions to be the May Queen of the rustic touch upon touch, he paints the things which | fête,— VOL. II.-9 "Come away, for Life and Thought Here no longer dwell; A great and distant city-have bought Would they could have stay'd with us!" |