mud-built huts, where the remnants of a scattered people have horded together for mutual protection, are the only signs of civilization that these fertile plains present for one hundred and fifty miles. Worse than the locust or beast of prey, what Mahratta warfare could not utterly destroy, hordes of Bheel and Pindarries were hired and introduced into these countries to effect. But I have done with the sickening tale, afflicting to narrate, and dreadful to view. The chain of mountains, among which we have now encamped, extends from Cape Comorin, opposite Ceylon, in one unbroken series (with the exception of an opening at Paniany in the Malabar country, of about twelve miles broad), stretching away, in a northern line, to the province of Candeish, and not far distant from Surat. In no part do they exceed fifty miles from the sea, and in one part only do they approach closer than eight miles. There are but few passes known to us; and till men of science investigate this stupendous barrier, we are likely to know but little about them. The mountains of which we are now speaking, decrease in altitude about thirty miles to the northward of Bombay to the southward of Poona the passes, I am told, have a northern descent; stretching along to the southward, they separate what is generally called Malabar, supporting the Mysore and Soondah countries in the form of a terrace. With the exception of the opening at Paniany before mentioned, and the few passes formed by the industry of man, or the action of mountain torrents, it is one connected wall for nearly nine hundred miles; this vast belt enclosing the rich country within the Ner-Budha river. These mountains are said to average from 3000 to 5500 feet in height, prolific in all the wonders and beauties of nature. In the high mountains to the southward much valuable meteorological data might be obtained, for, while below (Payeen) it is raining in torrents for three successive months, in the Table-land above (Bala G'hat) it is the fine season. Numerous rivers in26 ATHENEUM VOL. 2. 2d series, tersect the low country, which, during the S. W. monsoon, run with astonishing velocity; some few, that have their sources in the mountains, have the whole year a shallow stream. TEMPLE OF EKVERAH. I proceeded across the open country to the left, to the mountain of Ekverah; where, at a considerable height above the plain, stands a large temple, hewn out of the solid rock. On the left of a terrace at the end of the footpath, excavated from the bowels of the mountain, stands, in solemn magnificene, the great arched temple of Karli, with its noble vestibule and entrance, and the sitting figure of Budha. On looking into the temple, an object of wonder presents itself: a ponderous arched roof of solid stone, supported by two rows of pillars; the capitals of each surmounted by a well-sculptured male and female figure, seated, with their arms encircling each other, on the back of elephants, crouching as it were, under the weight they sustain. the further end of the temple is an immense hemispherical altar, of stone, with a kind of wooden umbrella spread over the top. At There is no idol in front of the great altar, as at Elora: the umbrella covering, before spoken of, rises from a wooden pedestal out of the convexity of the altar. A Brahman, whom I questioned on the subject of the altar, exclaimed, in nearly the words of our own poet, 66 Him first, Him last, Him midst, Him without end." In alluding to the Almighty, he nearly spoke as above described, placing his hands on this circular solid mass. He rejected all idea of assimilating Budha, or Brahma, with the " Eternal God ;" who, he said, was one alone from beginning to end, and that the circular altar was his emblem. A concourse of priests and fakeers, supported by the Peishwa, lived here. One of them, an ascetic of high renown, had a singularly mild and serene countenance: he was sitting before a flame of fire day and night, with a cloth over his mouth, to prevent his inhaling pollution, or destroying any living substance: he was regularly fed with parched grain, and his water for drinking was strained through a cloth.* I addressed him with reverence: he turned up his fine placid countenance, and looked at me with eyes that spoke of heaven. I *A Brahman at Benares was so cautious of causing the death of any living animal, that before him, as he walked, the place was swept, that he might not destroy any insect: the air was fanned as he ate, for the same purpose. Some mischievous European gave him a microscope, to look at the water he drank. On seeing the animalculæ, he threw down and broke the instrument, and vowed he would not drink water again: he kept his promise, and died. Concluded in our next. SIR, FRENCH COOKERY. Of Anthropophagi, and men whose heads and button maker, and should prefer being interred in Aldermanbury. It has long been the reproach of the French, and you are among those who have echoed it, that they are not a poetical people. But at least their cooks are. Must not a cook, Mr. Editor, be inflamed with the double fires of the kitchen and poetry, when he conceives the idea of fountains of love, starry aniseed, capons' wings in the sun, and eggs blushing like Aurora-followed (alas! what a terrible declension!) by eggs la Tripe? I consider their beef in scarlet, their sauce in half mourning, and their white virgin beans, as examples of the same warm and culinary fancy.* I AM an alderman and button-maker in the city, and I have a taste for sea-coal fires, porter, roast-beef, and the LONDON MAGAZINE. My son Bob, and my daughter Fanny, on the contrary, use to dislike all these good things-the last excepted: and prevailed with me to go and spend a month or two in Paris in the spring of this year. I knew that my son loved me as well as French cookery-and my daughter nearly as well as aFrench gown: so I unfortunately and affectionately complied with their desire-and have repented it ever since. However, my journey has not been altogether thrown away, as it has reconverted Bob to beef, and as it gives me an op- Not to say any thing of the vulgar portunity of relating the wonders of plates of frogs, nettles, and thistles, French cookery-a matter which in what genius there is in the conception all articles upon your the French you of a dish of breeches in the royal have unaccountably neglected. The fashion, with velvet sauce-tendons of French Revolution was no doubt veal in a peacock's tail-and a shoulbrought about by the national fond- der of mutton in a balloon or a bagness for necks of mutton and men à pipe! Sometimes their names are so l'écarlate; and the national hatred to fanciful as to be totally incomprehenthe English is still visible in their at- sible, especially if you look for them tempts to poison them with their dish- in a dictionary: such as a palace of es:-a consummation not at all to beef in Cracovia-strawberries of veal my taste, even with the prospect of the amorous smiles of à calf—a fleet being buried in Pére la Chaise. As with tomata sauce-and eggs in a for me, I am a plain man, alderman looking-glass.† *Puits d'amour.-Anis etoile,-Ailes de poularde au Soleil.-Œufs a l'Aurore.-Bœuf a l'ecarlate.Sauce en petit deuil.-Haricots Vierges. † Culotte a la Rovale, sauce veloute.-Tendons de veau en queue de paon.-Epaule de mouton en ballon, en musette.-Palais de boeuf en Cracovie.-Fraises de veau.-Ris de veau en amourette,--Flotte, sauce Tomate,-Eufs au miroir. But there are many of their dishes which are monstrous; and in my mind not only prove the French capability of eating poisons but their strong tendency to cannibalism. Great and little asps-fowls done like lizards-hares like serpents-and pigeons like toads or basilisks-are all favourite dishes: as are also a hash of huntsmen, a stew of good Christians, a mouthful of ladies, thin Spanish women, and four beggars on a plate. One of their most famous sauces is sauce Robert, which I remember to have read of in Fairy Tales as the sauce with which the Ogres used to eat children. My daughter found one dish on the carte which alarmed us all-Eglefin à la Hollandaise: and after trying a long time, she remembered it was something like the name of somebody of whom she had taken lessons of memory. I suppose they had taken the poor devil from his name to be a Dutchman, and had accordingly drest him à la Hollandaise.* But I may easily have been mistaken in French words, when I can't understand what they call English ones-some of which seem to have undergone as complete a change by crossing the Channel, as most of our countrywomen. Who could recognize, for example, in wouelche rabette, hochepot,panequet, minsies paës,plomboudine, or mache potetesse, the primal and delightful sounds of Welsh rabbit, hotch-potch, pancake, mincepies, plum-pudding, and mashed potatoes? But the French seem fond of far-fetched dishes they get their thistles from Spain, and their cabbages from Brussels, and their artichokes from Barbary in Turkish turbans.|| The French boast that their language is the clearest in the world. I should like to know what they mean by a skate fried raw, or big little peaches ?" ** I can easily comprehend mouton à la Gasconne, however; and an epigramme d'agneau is as insipid as a French epigram always is. They like liver of veal done to choke you, and pullets like ivory-so called, I suppose, from their toughness and hardness. Other dishes are, on the contrary, quite shadowy and unsubstantial: such as an embrace of a hare on the spit-partridge's shoe-soles-a dart and a leap of salmon-the breath of a rose-a whole jonquil-or biscuits that would have done honour to the Barmecide's feast.t The French have a way of serving up their dishes which is as extraordinary as the rest. What should we think of whitings in turbans-smelts in dice boxes-a skate buckled to capers-gooseberries in their shifts, and potatoes in their shirts? Should we not think any Englishman very filthy whose cook should send up cut- Aldermanbury. lets in hair-papers-truffles in ashes As I have got a corner of my paper still blank, my son Bob begs me to let him spoil it with a few verses which he says are German to French Cookery. Sir, your very obedient humble servant, TIMOTHY WALKINSHAW, Button-maker and Alderman. * Grand et petit Aspic.-Poulet en lezard.-Lievre en serpent.-Pigeon a la Crapaudine, en basilic -Salmi de chasseurs.-Compota de bons Chretiens.-Bouchee de Dames.-Espagnoles maigres.-Quatre mendians. Veau a l'etouffade.-Poulets'a l' ivoire.-Accolade de lievre a la broche.-Semelles de Perdrix.-Une darde et un saute de Saumon.-Souffle de rose.--Uune jonquille entiere.-Biscuits manques. Merlans en turban.-Eperlans en Cornets.-Raie bouclee aux capres.-Groseilles et pommes. de terre en chemise.-Cotelettes en papillotes.-Truffes a la cendre.-Massepains seringues.-Dindon en daube. Gros et petits boulets.-Carbonades de mouton, &c.--Sirop de grenades.-Cailles aux lauriers. In the last two names our worthy Correspondent probably alludes to Ramereaux a l'étouffade, and Beignets a la gendarme. Cardons d'Espagne.-Choux de Bruxelles.-Artichauts de Barbarie en bonnet de Turc. **Raje frite a cru,-Peches grosses-mignonnes. The celebrated anatomist and chemical lecturer, Dr. George Fordyce, dined every day for more than twenty years at Dolly's chop-house. His researches in comparative anatomy had led him to conclude, that man, through custom, eats oftener than nature requires, one meal a day being sufficient for that noble animal the lion. At four o'clock, his accustomed hour of dining, the Doctor regularly took the seat at a table always reserved for him, on which were placed a silver tankard full of small ale, a bottle of port wine, and a measure containing a quarter of a pint of brandy. The moment the waiter announced him, the cook put a pound and a half of rump steak on the gridiron, and on the table some delicate trifle, as a bonne bouche, to serve until the steak was ready. This was sometimes half a broiled chicken, sometimes a plate of fish; when he had eaten this, he took one glass of brandy, and then proceeded to devour his steak. We say devour, because he always eat so rapidly, that one might have imagined he was hurrying away to a patient to deprive death of a dinner. When he had finished his meal, he took the remainder of his brandy, having, during his dinner, drunk the tankard of ale, and afterwards the bottle of port! He thus daily spent an hour and a half of his time, and then returned to his house in Essex-street, to give his six o'clock Lecture on Chemistry. He made no other meal until his return next day, at 4 o'clock, to Dolly's. HIGHWAYWOMEN ! About 11 o'clock on Thursday se'night, as Mr. William Ratcliffe, a traveller from Wolverhampton, was returning to the inn, he was attacked, in Back Piccadilly, by a number of females, who, pinioning him agaiust the wall, tore open his waistcoat, and after a rude search into the secret recesses of his wardrobe, succeeded in pillaging him of cash to the amount of 1001. SMOKING TOBACCO. This is proved to be such a real enjoyment, that a confirmed smoker shall be let him keep his fingers from the bowl, or blind-folded after taking three whiffs; and heated part of the pipe, puff away for ten minutes, and he shall not know whether his pipe is a-light or otherwise!-Economist. A law student calling one day on a painter, found him engaged in copying a Raphael. "Upon my soul," says Quitam, "but I like you amazingly, as far as you have gone." "Do you, indeed, my boy," replied the Artist; "well, you're lawyer, and may be a Judge ?" young *Bob calls cooks "the devil's own legion," from the well-known fact of their being sent from even a botter place than they occupy upon earth. He alludes in the last part of the verse to the kind of bean called vierge, which the French stew, and to the bon Chretien grille. Pigeons a la crapaudine.-Aspic de veau.-Feuilletage.-Tendons de mouton aux racines.—Lievre en serpent.-Pigeon en basilic.-Poulet en lezard.-Civet de lievre. Boeuf a l'ecarlate.-Sauce en petit deuil.-Fanchonnettes.-Charlotte de pommes.-Bouchee de Dames, a kind of cake.-Raie au beuerre noir.-Blanquette de volaille. Boeuf en ballon.-Epaule d'agneau en musette.-Dents de loup, a sort of biscuit.-Macarons jumeaux. -Trufles a la Serviette.-Eufs a l'Aurore.-Queues de mouton au Soleil.-Raie frite a cru. Veau a l'etouffade.-Poulets a l'ivoire.-Noix de veau a la gendarme.-Mouton a la Gasconne. THE RULING PASSION. At Margate, Mrs. B. a very lovely woman, fainted in the ball-room. When her attendants were rubbing her temples with Hungary water, she begged them to desist, as it would make her hair grey. a MESSIEURS SMITHS. Every body knows that Smith is a very common name, but hardly any body would have thought of turning its commonness to account in such a queer and cruel way as "gentleman" did, the other night, at one of the theatres. Entering the pit at half price, and finding every seat occupied, he bawled out-" Mr. Smith's house is on fire!" In an instant, upwards of twenty Mr. Smiths rushed out of the pit, and the wicked wag, chuckling at the success of his stratagem, coolly took possession of one of their vacated seats. When Lord Stormont lost his diamond insignia of the Order of St. Andrew at St. James's, George Selwyn ran piping hot with the news to the Cocoa-tree, when Foote, who was there, instantly exclaimed, "then it's the first time that a Scotchman was ever known to lose any thing at Court !" The Drama. DER FREYSCHÜTZ; OR, THE SEVENTH BULLET. THIS piece which, on account of its magic, and its magic music, has been completely turning all the half-turned heads of Germany-has at length met with an English manager bold enough to hazard the dangerous expense and risk of producing it in England; and a company brave and potent enough to do its mysteries and its music ample justice. The original drama, which is, to judge by the English copy, but lonely and injudiciously put together, is founded on one of the traditional tales of Germany, which has long been listened to in that country, and valued for its decided horror. This tale has been admirably translated by a very able writer of the present day, and may be read by those, who love to dram with horror, in a work called "Popular Tales and Romances of the Northern Nations." It will be seen that the plot of the drama, which is pretty closely adhered to we understand on the English stage, varies materially from the story. -Indeed no audience would endure to have a lover shoot his mistress to serve the devil, as is the case in the tale. How great are the Germans at Satanic writing! The devil is their Apollo ! The piece has been produced by Mr. Arnold with no limit to care or expense :-in truth we did not, and could not believe it possible, until we saw with our own eyes, that a small summer theatre could afford us such a scene of devilry and witchery as the one now effected nightly. The diminutive stage, like Kean in one of his happiest nights, seems to expand with the spirit of the scene, until there appears no limit to its space and wonders. The scenery itself is not, we believe, new-but it is peopled with goblins and creeping things, numerous enough, we should suppose, to fill the greaf desart!--The principal scene is where the huntsman Caspar casts the magic balls for his rifle,-balls which go unerringly to the birds and evil things swarm thicker and mark; and as the charming goes on, the faster, until at the seventh bullet, the stage is one mass of fire and wing and reptile!Perhaps a slight sketch of the story may not be uninteresting: -- Kimo, an old huntsman, lives in the forest with his wife and daughter, on a farm resolves that his daughter Agnes shall marwhich he holds as a tried marksman. He y a good shot, as the farm will only be kept in the family by such a prudent match. The girl is attached to Rodolph, a forest youth, who is all the father can desire :-she is beloved, however, by a huntsman, named Caspar, who has made a compact with an evil spirit, and uses magic balls. Rodolph, at the opening of the drama, is under the malignant influence of a charm, which frustrates all his sports, and turns aside every bullet he fires. The trial day is at hand, on which occasion his skill, as a shot, is to be proved—and on his success depends his union with Agnes. Caspar, who is jealous of his fortune with the girl, hints that he might secure her if he would have recourse to the magic balls and the hope of securing his love leads him to promise a meeting with Caspar at the glen, at night. Rodolph frames an excuse to his love as the hour approaches, and, in spite of mysterious warnings, keeps his fatal promise. Caspar, in the mean time, whose days are numbered, offers to Zamiel, the evil spirit, a fresh victim if he may be spared a three year's longer existence. The bargain is made in a magic circle the seven bullets are cast, by the owl's shriek and to unearthly light!— Six shall go true! And the seventh askew! Six shall achieve, And the seventh deceive! The trial day comes, and the six sure bullets have been expended-the seventh, which the spirit is to direct, Caspar trusts will kill the bride, Agnes; but the spirit directs it on Caspar himself—and the desolator is laid desolate !—The piece concludes with the wedding of the young hunter and his Agnes! Such is briefly the plot of the Drama; of course the German story has not half so happy a conclusion. The Bride is killed by the bullet, the last of sixty and three, and the Hunter goes mad in the forest. The Spirit is managed with great effect in the piece, and his appearance amid the clashing branches at the casting of the seventh bullet is awful. It is almost worthy of that fine gloomy description of the flight of Zamiel, in the original story, after he has secured his victim, which we can |
