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LETTERS FROM A RAMBLER.

BY GEO. P. JENNINGS.

No. I.

DEAR L

Jersey, July, 183-.

AFTER a constant residence in the same place, it is pleasing to know the ways and doings of other people; to observe the variety of customs among different nations, and to trace the characteristics of humamity through all the variety of tribe and lineage. Surely, then, not the least pleasing part of this knowledge must be that of those people who are, in one sense, our fellow-countrymen; in another, foreigners; who join with us in nominal fealty to the same Sovereign, but neither recognise the same laws, nor even share our language, our customs, and our burthens.

It is not, I believe, generally known, that a portion of the British dominions, within twelve hours' sail from the coast of England, differs from the parent land in all the particulars before mentioned ;-yet such is the case. The cluster of islands in the English channel, of which Jersey is the principal,-is the portion to which I allude; and, as I now find myself with a little spare time, I hasten to redeem my promise to you, by giving such an outline of my ramblings as may serve, though in humble style, to illustrate the country in which they are taken. So off I start,-and as I have been myself a rambler of late, you must not grumble if my pen should be, at times, similarly inclined.

The usual mode of conveyance is by steam packet, on board which I embarked at Southampton, about seven o'clock in the evening: the weather was wet, and, for the season, sufficiently gloomy and cold to have been in perfect unison with the temper of the veriest misanthropist; so uninviting, indeed, was the aspect of affairs on deck, that, after we had passed the Isle of Wight, with its huge chalky cliffs and lofty lighthouse, I repaired to the cabin. But even there appearances were not much mended: the frigidity of the atmosphere seemed to have infused itself into the passengers, and the only change was from gloomy elements to equally gloomy company; for, in the whole number, no two were found having anything like sympathy for each other.Sociability seemed entirely out of the question, so I contented myself with taking a silent survey of the scene before me. The cabin was large and handsomely fitted-up; along each side were three tiers of births or beds, just large enough for one person to lie down in each, but by no means allowing the luxury of a stretch, or even of sitting in anything like an upright position. The uppermost tier is the most difficult of access, but the most desirable for a dormitory, for several reasons, one of which was soon shown in the following incidents, which caused more merriment to some of the spectators than perhaps could have been done by any other occurrence in existing circumstances. Several passengers, who had a dread of sea-sickness, took to their births, as soon as the vessel got out to sea,-imagining, that so doing is the best preventative against it; though, for my own part, I can scarcely see how shutting one's self up in a cage not much larger than a coffin, and almost as close, is likely to act as a tranquillizer of the stomach, especially when that cage is, with about forty others, in an equally close and almost stifling cabin. Among others, a gentleman had quietly laid himself in one of the lowest tier, and most incautiously, and in despite of numerous sounds, betokening, like distant thunder, a coming storm, had ventured to stretch his head and shoulders out of the front of his birth, and was gently reposing in that position, when he was saluted from an upper apartment, occupied by a fat cockney dame, with a shower almost equal in quantity and effect to that which Vesuvius of old bestowed upon the unfortunate Pompeians; not certainly so hot as the suffocating ashes and burning lava, but quite sufficient to obscure the head and shoulders of the one as completely as the other were buried beneath the surface of the earth.

Finding that matters did not much mend with keeping, and feeling myself a little qualmish, out of sympathy, no doubt, with the hapless gent., I wended my way on deck, taking care, in my passage down the cabin, to keep as much in the centre as possible, lest the tenant of some upper story should feel inclined to bestow his favours in equal abundance upon me. Never, I think, did I experience a more refreshing

change than in breathing the pure air of heaven, after having so long inhaled the noxious vapours below;-the gloom had cleared off, the clouds were dispelled, and the clear, dark, ethereal vault was displayed in all its magnificence; the stars were glittering in their mighty array, and the moon,-the shining moon,-was

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-hung in the deep abyss,

Like something lost from the realms of bliss:"

and then she sailed along, her gentle beams shedding a calm lustre on the heaving restless ocean, and pointing out no unapt symbol of the difference between the turbulent course of time, and the stillness and serenity of eternity.

We proceeded thus for several hours, when a light was discerned at a considerable distance. I should not have mentioned this but for the following anecdote, which shows how strongly human nature is affected by local circumstances. The light proceeded from a lighthouse, built on a long and dangerous ridge of rocks, called the Casket Rocks, which extend a great distance, and are many miles from the nearest shore. The only inhabitants of this uninviting abode are two families, who have charge of the lighthouses, and whose intercourse with strangers is of the most limited nature. One of them had a daughter, who had never been from home, not even to any of the nearest islands, until she was about fourteen years of age, when she was taken to Guernsey; but the novelty of the scene so far from charming, proved so repugnant to her, that she would not, by any means, be content until she returned to her native rocks, declaring that she was quite disgusted with the noise and confusion of the world! What would she have said or thought, had she, by any magic, have been transported to the modern Babel of Cheapside or Holborn? Some philosophers might admire this, and call it innate simplicity; others would look upon it with contempt and derision. Which would be right?

Our course lay past the islands of Alderney, Heima, and Guernsey, at which latter place we stopped to land some passengers, and take on board others. As its extent and importance demand more than a few passing observations, I shall content myself at present with noticing that the town of St. Peters, with its castle, churches, hospital, and shipping, presents a fine bold appearance from the sea, and betokens a place of industry and commerce. We did not stay long, but bearing away passed the island of Serk, and in about three hours were alongside the coast of Jersey. The first aspect of this island promises anything but fertility and verdure. We sailed along one entire side, which presented to the view nothing but an unbroken range of rocks, without any signs of either inhabitants or culture, save a few signal posts and watch towers at short intervals along the cliffs. But if this prospect be dreary, it only renders the approaching scene more striking and grand. On rounding a promontory, at the extremity of the island, the centre bay of St. Aubins is presented to the view. In the centre stands Elizabeth Castle, uprearing its lofty battlements from the sea; on the left hand is the town of St. Aubins, with its windmills and spire embosomed in wood of the richest luxuriance; to the right lies the town of St. Helens, stretching its suburbs along the bay, while its pier and batteries present a lively, and, at the same time, a formidable front to the sea. The back ground of the picture consists of a long succession of heights, part in a state of excellent cultivation, and part covered with wood, while numerous villas, and two or three villages, with their spired churches, are visible in different places, and altogether form one of the most beautiful scenes that anywhere meet the eye of the traveller. This bay is about three miles from one extremity to the other, and is said to bear a great resemblance to the far-famed Bay of Naples, and I have been told, by those who have seen both, that the similitude is, in some points, very striking.

On approaching the harbour, we found the tide so low that it was not only impossible for the packet to come up to the landing place, but even for a small boat to reach it. We were accordingly packed into a boat, to be taken by it so far as the depth of water would allow, where a number of coaches, gigs, barouches, and carts, were waiting for us, some of them up to the axles in water. The moment the boat grounded, some of the vehicles backed against it with such force, that there was some danger of exchanging the ferry boat of the honest Jerseyman for that of Charon. The boat was also beseiged by a number of porters, immersed to the middle, who were so

clamarous as to be scarcely restrained from seizing the luggage of the passengers, and carrying it off vi et armis; I have no reason to believe that they had any intention of purloining a single article, but their eagerness for a job was certainly anything but agreeable, especially to one who had several articles to look after. At last, by the joint assistance of boat and cart, we were fairly landed, when one of the aforesaid porters, who had, for some distance, waded, merman-like, alongside the cart, seized my luggage, and with great politeness told me, he should be very proud to serve me, at the same time assuring me that he bore an excellent character, and if I had any doubts upon the subject, he could refer me to Dr. of- Terrace; to Mr., of street; to Mr. of- place, and some half dozen others, filling up the list with wonderful rapidity, and then proceeded, dripping wet, to carry it whither I directed him. It is needless to add, that I did not trouble any of the gentlemen referred to, for the character of my obsequious porter.

Having thus taken you in idea from the shores of England to this "Isle of Beauty," I must pause awhile to notice the ways and manners of those I am among. I do not intend to give you a critical notice of the place, and all connected with it, but just to note whatever I may find in my rambles worthy of being committed to paper, and capable of affording amusement for a leisure hour to myself in the writing, and to you in the perusing, and if my scribblings are worth the trouble of the latter, I shall consider myself much indebted to good fortune, and more to your good nature.

Your's, truly,

G. P. J.

The following is extracted from a Volume of Poems, published by a gentleman, we believe a native of Manchester, entitled,

"BOWDEN."

Now standing on sweet Bowden's height,
The pure serene, with clouds bedight,
In distance fades to mock the sight,

And blends the hills with sky;
Whilst transcient beams of light oft fall
On Rostherne's mere, on Tatton's hall,
On dingle low, or steeple tall,

On Dunham, sere and dry.

On Knutsford tower, and costly gaol,
On High Leigh, Ashley, or on Hale,
The flickering lights and shadows fail

To yield a steady view:

Likes hopes and fears of fleeting good,
On boyish plans, half understood;
Or man's, who dare not, though he would,
His highest bliss pursue.

Scarce from this lofty esplanade,
Has been you smoky town surveyed,
The wealthy capital of trade,

Ere others claim the gaze :
Stockport and Ashton half revealed
Warrington, Bolton, Macclesfield,
By rising grounds are just concealed,
Or lost amid the haze.

Lowly winds Bollin, fraught with trout,
While chains of mountains round about,
Rivington Pike, and Kinder Scout,

Alderley's beetling brow;
Cloud-end and Mow-cop bound the view,
Saddleworth's hills and Goit's moss too,
With Peckforton's of misty blue,

And Blackstone Edge I trow.

I pass the hall, the barns, the rill
The rustic bridge, and Ashley mill,
The road that winds along the hill,

The shadowy woody lane :
And at the sound of yon sweet bells,
Retrace the footpaths through the del s,
And tangled brake, yclept the Yells,
To yonder sacred fane.

* * * * * * * * * **
There stands the simple gothic pile,
Where rustics crowd the gate and stile,
By yews and limes o'erreached the while :
The eastern window there
Excludes whilst it receives the ray,
That sparkles in the garish day,
And says, or rather seems to say,

"This is the House of Prayer."

'Tis not the dialled porch alone,
'Tis not the gray and mossy stone;
Nor yet the pealing organ's tone;

Nor sacred volume placed :
Nor seats arranged with decent care,
Nor Flaxman's chiselled marble rare ;
Nor dust of heroes slumb'ring there,
By which the fabric's graced.

No!-'Tis that under this carved roof,
The rich and poor have equal proof,
Of equal debt in their behoof,

By Calvary's suffering clear:
And that the preachers do not trace,
In life or death, worship or grace
A different fate, a several place,
For peasant and for peer.

LIGHTS AND SHADES,

IN SEVEN CANTOS,

FROM THE HEART,

BY PETER SIMPLE.

SONG OF THE P. G.

HAIL! meekest, sweetest, best of any
Society, of all the many.
Hail, purest, sweetest, best of bands,
I sing the cause of hearts and hands.
Hail, mighty beam of brightest ray
Thy magic acts, who dare gainsay?
Hail, Queen of FRIENDSHIP, and of bliss;
Hail, source of Love, and happiness;
Hail, fount of TRUTH, to every breast;
Hail, Home of succour, place of rest;
Hail, pleasing temple of our joys;
Hail, holy palace of the wise;
Hail, spangled gem, of every pearl,
All hail Odd Fellowship! unfurl
Thy glorious Banner, while I sing
Of roses cull'd from many a spring,
Of gayest flowers in that bed,
Where sweet perfume will ever shed
Its fragrance, o'er our hallowed theme.
Awake! arise! the dullest beam I-

Awake! arise! Odd Fellows all ;-
Awake! arise! to Virtue's call ;-
Awake! behold! the happy smile
Of tens of thousands in the toil.
The loveliest, best, the proudest doom,
Where May-flowers must ever bloom.
Round Friendship's brow we will entwine
The only bliss that can combine

To gild our Lodge with cheerful light,
With choicest prospects ever bright,-
With sweetest joys in festive ring,—
With social scenes that upward wing.
Let us in Love now point his dart,
While Truth's sweet incense we impart
To our new made brethren, in bliss
Transporting sweets to holiness.
Ever, ever,-let us unite,
Ever-ever,-bestow our mite;
Ever,-ever,-let us accord,
Belov'd by all, by none abhorr'd.

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He was a man among the few,
Belov'd by all; and they who knew
His many virtues, often said,
A real christian's life he'd led:
Oh! had this lonely wanderer's fate
Been link'd to ours, his wretched state
Had not occur'd; instead of which,
He died from want! was he not rich
In leaving behind a good name?
He was, but let his ill-fate flame

The theme of every honest heart.
"Life's a Lottery," then let's impart,
Bless, and preserve our dear treasuer,
Real Odd Fellowship; what measure
In this wide world is so replete
With every blessing? I repeat,
Thou art the sun-the God of my
Idolatry, on earth my joy;

And my first prayer shall ever be,
Pure Odd Fellowship, God bless thee.

(END OF CANTO II, TO BE CONTINUED.)

Leeds, November 21st, 1835.

TO THE EDITOR AND COMMITTEE OF MANAGEMENT OF THE

GENTLEMEN,

MAGAZINE.

The following particulars of a Procession of the members of the Leeds District, which took place on Sunday, the 8th day of November, 1835, will, I hope, be considered worthy a place in the Magazine. I have been induced to offer this contribution from your frank and generous invitation, given in your address in the last number of the Magazine.-The first part is a copy of the letter sent to the Vicar of Leeds, and inserted in the Mercury and the Leeds Times Newspapers, explaining the resolutions passed, and the particulars relative to the carrying of the resolutions into effect.

THE INDEPENDENT ORDER OF ODD FELLOWS.

REFUSAL OF THE VICAR TO PREACH.

ΤΟ THE EDITOR OF THE LEEDS MERCURY.

SIR, If you can find room in your valuable and widely circulated paper, for the following letter to the Vicar of Leeds, you will oblige me and the members of our Order.

The reason I have troubled you on this occasion, is as far as lies in my power, to set the Vicar right in the opinion he may form, or has formed, respecting the Order of Odd Fellows, of the Manchester Unity. At a meeting of the District of our Order in Leeds, it was unanimously agreed to have a Procession to the Parish Church, of as many members of the District as could attend on the 8th day of November, 1835, and that the Vicar should be applied to, and requested to preach a sermon in behalf of the three charitable Institutions of the town, viz:-The Infirmary, the House of Recovery, and the public Dispensary, and, that after service, a collection should be made by the brothers present, in aid of the funds of the said charitable Institutions. Two delegates were appointed to carry the above resolutions into effect, and waited on his Reverence, and to their surprise received a decided negative; the Vicar stating that he did not preach sermons for Odd Fellows, or anything of the kind. In consequence of such answer, I now address the worthy Vicar.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

SAMUEL NORTON.*

*At my request C. S. Norton generously allowed his name to be attached to this letter, to meet the public eye; reasons connected with my situation in life, forbidding my own name to appear.-W. A.

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