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sand, and several batteries, store-houses, and other Government buildings, shining in all the whiteness of their stone walls, reflecting the rays of a Barbary sun in the month of August. Our brig was at anchor in the bay, and there was no boat to take us on board; we must wait till the captain came on shore in the evening: Meantime, I was glad to find shelter under a sort of shed erected in the middle of the sandy plain, the only accommodation the place afforded, and where a Moor was selling coffee and lemonade. There I found several Turks, apparently men in office, sitting on mats. One of them, after gazing at me for some time, entered into conversation, which was carried on between us in a sort of mongrel Italian. Having learned I was proceeding to Malta, he took an opportunity to express his political feelings, from which I could learn, that among the Christians, he liked the Americang best, (that nation being then the only neutral one, was carrying on most of the trade in the Mediterranean,) the English next, and the French least of any; which last assurance he accompanied with a rap on my shoulder, when I answered in the negative to his question whether I belonged to the last-named nation.
At last the captain's boat came, and I left the shores of Barbary, which had inspired me at first with a feeling of curiosity, that turned afterwards into a sentiment of weariness, mixed with a sort of uncontrollable loathing.
CHILDREN of the sun's first glancing,
Nightingale and lark are singing
THE CAMBRIDGE LECTURERS,
AS I REMEMBER THEM SOME TIME AGO.
I NEVER was entirely an idler, though I lament many days wasted in the best part of my life. Irregular in my pursuits, I seldom kept them long in view. I followed with zeal, while the novelty lasted, and thus saw much, and heard much, perhaps worth attention ; but from a want of that steady and regulated perseverance, which alone leads to excellence, I fall far short of the promises which imagination once held out in the heated moments of early ambition. They are
hairs have not yet appeared, and as life has better things than dejection and despair, I look upon the future with sanguine hopes, and on the past with as pleasant feelings as I can. Perhaps to a fault, I love to ponder upon things that are not, or give
them a new existence in the storehouse of memory. Here then I shall write down some of my recollections. I shall record the characters of the different lecturers I sometimes heard, when I wore the blue gown at Trinity College, where I loitered away many an hour, and devoted many a long evening to merriment and laughter, which should have been more seriously employed. I begin with Daniel Edward Clarke, the enthusiastic traveller. He is now no more; or only lives in our recollections.
To give a correct idea of the energy and animation of this man's character requires amore forcible pencilthan mine. I wish to paint him to the life; I wish to send out a portrait which cannot be mistaken by those who have seen Clarke some years ago, when he was among us in full vigour and spirit. But for this we must go to the lecture room; we must fancy ourselves a little younger, and the professor still alive; we will wile away a few minutes over those beautiful specimens which are so delicately arranged upon the table, and in the surrounding cases, from the primitive formations of granite to the costly stones and precious metals ; the blow-pipes too, whose intense heat in fusing metal has so much assisted the science; the picture of the grotto of Antiparos, with its beautiful stalactites and crystal floor ; the ingenious section of the strata of this island; the green god of the New Zealanders; and a vast collection of curious and precious things. But the professor has entered with his
papers in his hand, and a favourite specimen ; intelligence and genius are depicted on his strongly-marked countenance. nest manner of recommending his darling pursuit shews that his heart and soul are wrapt up in it. To a full audience he mentions the names of some ambitious travellers among his pupils, who have brought him specimens from Scandinavia, Switzerland, or the
Pyrenees. He calls for their wonder and admiration at their superlative beauty; whether they be diamonds or bits of rock. Every thing is matter for wonder with him. He is no cold speculator, but an enthusiast ; he will tell you that the very streets will yield us gold from the dust we tread on; he would fain have us believe that we shall find gold mines in abundance among the rocks and cliffs of the West of England; but woe to the wretch who adventures upon this hopeless enterprise. All this is very amusing; and the many anecdotes which are related by way of illustration sometimes make the lecture a rich treat. His extensive travels gave him great opportunities. The more serious and severe amongst us consider his speculations as trifling and useless. But the professor has an equal contempt for their trivialities, and throws back their arrows upon them. He is invulnerable to such attacks. He finds
“ Books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." Alas, to one enemy he has been forced to yield; his chair is no longer occupied and sustained with the fervid zeal, or his pursuit set forth with the elegant language, we have so often heard. gone ; and the cheerful home, where many of us enjoyed his hospitality and entertaining conversation, is now destroyed. His beautiful widow and his little children are all far from the place. There is now nothing to remind us of this good man but his specimens and the Eleusinian Ceres.
I must now speak of the Professor of Geology, the subterranean lecturer. How shall I describe the physiognomy of Adam Sedgewick? Shall I give him the eye of the hawk, the head of the eagle, and the ferocious look of the wolf; with a multitude of other qualities to make up this strange “ wild fowl ?" Truly, I would scarcely hope to look upon so sinister a visage. If you recoil from it with alarm,-you have only, as in similar cases, to look it in the face steadily, and your terrors will cease. You may find reasons for liking it at last. Heavens! what an impetuous tongue! yet the larum is never down: an incessant rattle, with a worthy contempt for the flowers of rhetoric. Now we traverse the globe with him, or descend into the bowels of the earth, freeze upon the Alps, climb Mont Blanc, totter on the Andes, or, disguised in a dirty frock, descend into a Cornish tin mine.
Yet in the costume which he would have us wear, if we leave our letters of recommendation at any gentleman's house, there is a possibility of our being driven from the door by a pampered menial, the parish beadle despatched to see us beyond the limits of the neighbourhood, or we may be subjected to the parochial inflictions on dirty vagabonds. Such things have happened. Poor wandering geologist, what ills art thou heir to ! With a green satchel slung
VOL. III. PART I.
over his shoulders, and a mattock in his hand, this philosopher has worked his way among the natural curiosities of England : his toilsome tours speak highly for his indefatigable perseverance; and his erudite treatises which he now and then reads in the Philosophical Society clearly shew him to be one of a powerful mind and surpassing talent, who has made excellent use of his opportunities. His Woodwardian lectures are very amusing, anti-Wernerian to the bone. He will sometimes give a field lecture, taking some select philo-geologists on a pedestrian excursion, a few miles into the country. He has not yet adopted Professor Buckland's mode, at Oxford, of lecturing on horseback. That is a grotesque lecture, like a coursing meeting, or an otter hunt. The students are riding about over hedges and ditches, till the Professor has discovered a subject worthy of remark, when they all obey "the whistle which calls them round him to listen to his observations. I prefer Sedgewick’s lecture, as it is much less troublesome; and under favour of the Oxonians, I would say more amusing. With his excellent map of the country, and that valuable collection before us, such a lecturer, so accomplished and so communicative, is an estimable advantage to students. Long may he oocupy his chair; may he continue his present pursuits with the same ardour as he commenced them; and may he live long to be the ornament of the university, which is so proud of him. The utility of the science is obvious. Without it. we must remain ignorant of the resources and wealth of our own country; without it we must pass through others unobserving, unedified, unacquainted with the peculiarities which distinguish one from another, and return home with little more increase of knowledge, than that of babbling tongues and senseless faces.
Come with me to hear Professor Farish: the hour will be well employed. The Experimental Philosopher has laid out all his apparatus of cog-wheels, cylinders, bars, pulleys, cranks, screws, blocks, &c., and with a complacent smile is contemplating the ingenious combination of all the parts. In the simplest, almost approaching to infantine, manner he explains all the intricate modes by which these wheels work upon one another, their multipliers, their momentums, and
their checks. His sawing machines, his hat manufactory, his oil press, and cannon foundery, are abundant sources of entertainment. In the latter we see the whole process, from the easting to the firing off the instrument of war. His explanations of the art of mining and ship-building are perfect in clearness and precision, and the air of simplicity which he throws over the whole is such that the student cannot but smile at the seeming facility of the subject, and the serene indifference with which the Professor treats of the most complex machinery. Under all this appearance of simplicity, it is discoverable that he is a