f

In

There is one other particular, in which the style of this writer, we think, is perhaps superior to any other-the construction of his periods, or that which corresponds in prose to what in poetry is called the versification. this as in former discourses, Mr. Hall appears to have employed every elegant and harmonious form, which the language admits; always gratifying, often ravishing the ear, but never cloying it; in the midst of his richest combinations, or his simplest trains, perfectly easy and unaffected;-varying his style with every shade of his sentiment, and converting what is usually but a mechanical vehicle, into an expressive and imitative music. A reference to some of the preceding extracts may serve to render these criticisms intelligible. To those who can perceive an analogy in this respect between verse and prose, it will probably appear that Mr. Hall's composition resembles the poetry of Dryden. We do not recollect any writer except South, who appears to have possessed so delicate a perception, or produced such exquisite specimens of the music of English prose; and even in him those specimens are but few. There is harmony in Addison, Bolingbroke, and Goldsmith, but infinitely inferior in variety, richness, and grandeur. There is harmony in Junius, Burke, and Johnson, but equally deficient in sweetness, fluency, and ease.

Uninteresting as these remarks may be to many readers, and trifling as are the merits to which they refer in comparison with the moral and intellectual beauties of this admirable discourse, we were unwilling to omit the opportunity of expressing our opinion of a style, which, though it may have its casual specks' and blemishes, so eminently deserves to be considered as a model. If Mr. Hall should at length be persuaded to enrich the world with a volume of such performances, we shall have so much the less occasion to point out the merits of his composition.

Art. IX. Sketch of the present State of Caracas; including a Journey; from Caracas through La Victoria and Valencia to Puerto Cabello. By Robert Semple, Author of two Journies in Spain, &c. &c. cr. 8vo. PP. 180. Price 6s. Baldwin. 1812.

THE small unassuming volumes of this sensible traveller are always very acceptable. He fits himself out without any an nouncement of a great adventure undertaken by an important personage, passes, lightly equipped, to his destination,-enters a foreign territory unencumbered by pomp and circamstance, traverses a division of it, with rather too much ceie- rity, it is true, but with at least as much activity of the looking

and thinking faculties as those of locomotion, and at his return gives out such a portion of what he has seen and thought, as he judges most worth telling, in a plain and frugal form, at a tenth part of the price current among his contemporaries of the same profession.

In the present instance he is one of the precursors (now indeed amounting, of themselves, to no contemptible number), of a vast crowd of travellers, who will bring their reports and descriptions from the same quarter of the world within the next twenty years. An almost boundless field is opening in South America, for the wild and hardy spirits who can find their enjoyment in the toils, and novelties, and hazards, of daring adventure-for the enthusiasts for the romantic, the grand, and the terrible views of nature-and for the speculators on man, who may be interested to see acted over again in the other hemisphere exactly the scenes, of which some of the countries of Europe were the theatre several centuries ago. This is a very enlivening prospect for the thoughtful, the curious, and the indolent portion of our English public. Yet we are not certain we should congratulate them upon it, so long as we see so little good resulting from the excessive proportion of stimulants, that have been mixed with their intellectual aliment for the last twenty years. The most observable result, we think, of all these means of excitement is, that we are come to need them,-and that the tone of the mind is becoming more and more languid under their opera

tion.

Mr. Semple relates briefly the incidents of his voyage to Curaçoa. He sailed from Gravesend in August, 1810, and made many reflections, and experienced many vicissitudes of feeling, even before he was fairly in progress on the Atlantic. He well describes some of the pensive feelings which prevailed while he beheld, in the night, the lights on the shore gradually going out, and heard from various ships the sounds indicating preparation for departure; and how these emotions gave place to a more cheerful state of feeling as the morning came on, with all the diversified activity of getting to sea, and the general competition of a great number of ships for the precedence.

The vessel very narrowly missed making an end of its course at a short distance on this side of Curaçoa.

"The night being clear, with fine moonlight for some hours, we stood on under easy sail, keeping a strict look out for Aves, or Bird's Islands, a dangerous cluster in our track. We passed the night in tranquillity, but the day dawned just in time to shew us that we were close upon rocks and breakers. Immediately a great alarm arose, all hands were called, and on heaving the lead, we found only three fathoms water. We plainly VOL. VIII. 3 L

saw the white rocks, with dark patches of weed, beneath the vessel's bottom. Fortunately the wind, although very light, enabled us to wear round, and stand off the land with all sail set, so that by eight o'clock we were clear of danger, and had resun:ed our former course. It was pleasing to observe the change in the countenances of all en board at every fresh cast of the lead, as we gradually deepened the water from three to five, eight, ten, fifteen, and twenty fathoms. Although there was no negligence on the part of the watch on deck, and several were on the look out, yet in ten minutes more we should have struck, and our vessel being very sharp, must soon have gone to pieces.' p. 15.

He very properly warns navigators of a long and dangerous chain of rocks and little islands between the south entrance of the Caribbean Sea and Curaçoa; and advises them to steer either considerably to the north, or along the South American coast. The most remarkable thing observed at Curaçoa was a dialect of such a conformation, as if the people of Babel had joined to amalgamate the confusion of their tongues into one language.

In the town the jargon is complete, and betrays the mixture of the various races from which it sprang. No two languages can be conceived more dissonant than the Spanish and Dutch; one of the loftiest and most sonorous, the other the meanest of the dialects of modern Europe. These form the basis of this strange compound, which is farther enriched with corruptions of English and French, and of words imported by African Negroes, or originating among the Creoles themselves. Spanish and French are spoken by the better classes, but in all common occurrences this papemiento, as it is called, forms the language of conversation among the lower ranks of colonists in the town.'

He found the regular defence of the island entrusted almost entirely to a Negro regiment, which had been received with the utmost apprehension and alarm at first by the inha bitants, but which had exhibited, during a trial of six months, a striking contrast, in point of discipline and good manners, with the European troops which it had succeeded. The atrocities of St. Domingo have spread through the West Indies the utmost horror of the idea of black men in arms; for these atrocities, he says, in the hurry of alarm, and in the midst of prejudice, are attributed to the Negroes, merely because they were black men, and not because they were ignorant slaves suddenly set free. It is forgotten that colour has nothing to do in the question, and that atrocities at least equal, and proceeding from the very same source, were committed at Paris, Nantz, Lyons, and Toulon.' He adds, to a person fresh from Europe, these apprehensions, and this repugnance to black men, appears the more striking, as he often looks in vain, amidst a motley crowd, for a single countenance in which the traces of a mixture of Negro descent are not visible.'

Curaçoa is only about forty miles from the continent, and is so favourably situated for intercourse with a great extent of the coast, that our author thinks it will always be of considerable importance as a commercial station. He is of opinion it will not soon suffer much diminution of its importance as a depôt from the opening of the ports of that coast, by the new republic of Venezuela, to a direct commerce with Europe; because the state of those countries is too little likely to become in any short time so settled and prosperous, as that it will not be a desirable thing for the English merchants to have a safer place in the neighbourhood of South America for depositing their commodities in the first instance, and awaiting the favourable seasou for their introduction into the continent.

Our author passed over, in the beginning of November, 1810, to La Guayra, the port of Caraccas, which has but slender pretensions, however, to be so denominated, being a mere road-stead, open to the north and east, and slightly sheltered to the west.' He was here struck, as he had been also at Curaçoa, with the phenomenon of the sea breaking with great violence in perfectly calm weather.

• There is almost constantly a swell, which is sometimes so violent as to prevent all intercourse with the shore for several days together. It is a singular spectacle, when the air is perfectly calm, to see upon the beach a continued line of high breakers, which succeed each other incessantly, and descend with a roaring which is heard far up the vailies.'

The extreme facility of catching fish was noticed by him. among the first of the circumstances indicating the plenty which is afforded, with little labour, for the support of life and the indulgence of indolence, in these tropical regions. The heat of La Guayra, being aggravated by reflection from the hills, is almost intolerable, during the summer months, to Europeans, and the fever makes dreadful ravages among those who have not been long inured to the climate.' The season preceding our author's visit had been less noxious than usual; but the place very naturally infected him with alarming ideas, and he made all haste to cross the chain of hills which extends along the coast, forming a vast natural mound to the valley or plain of Caracas, of such elevation, and of such difficult ascent, that the inhabitants (though Mr. Semple smiles at the notion) regard it as an impregnable defence against any military attempt that could be made from the sea. Every thing conveyed across this ridge is carried on the backs of mules, the burden of each, on an average, being as much as a hundred and eighty pounds, a load of two hundred weight, however, being very common. The charge of carriage for a load of this weight is from a dollar to a dollar and a half.

The traveller, just landed, is treated in much the same manner as a bale of goods. He is placed upon a mule with a clumsy and inconvenient kind of Moorish saddle and stirrups, such as are used in Spain; and his spurs, his whip, and his patience, are generally all of service to him before reaching Caracas.'

To the immense surprize, however, of every lazy Creole, our author determined to go on foot, in order to be at liberty to inspect more attentively every part of this formidable route; and to the very great alarm of an officer on guard, the Mulatto guide carried a portfolio of drawings, which was deemed a sufficient cause for a temporary detention.'

The road up this great ascent is so narrow, with high and steep banks on each side, that in some parts two loaded mules cannot pass each other. And, says our author, 'woe betide the traveller who in these passes meets a line of mules loaded with planks, which stretch tranversely almost from side to side. He must either turn his horse's head, or pass them with the utmost caution, at the risk of having his ribs encountered by a long succession of rough boards, which at every swerve of the mules, scoop out long grooves in the clayey banks. The greater the elevation the more incommodious the ascent, the road changing in many parts from clay to rugged rock, which appears not merely to have been thus purposely left, but to have been formed into its present state. At the commencement of this more difficult stage, they found lying on a sledge by the way side, the body of a stone statue of a saint, which had been conveyed thus far toward Caraccas for an object of religious worship, but appeared to be left here in despair: only the head had been carried forward, but whether it is held to claim any part of the reverence which would have been due to the whole, is not deposed. A most delightful change of temperature was experienced progressively in ascending to the height of about four thousand feet above the level of La Guayra. At this elevation the traveller crosses the ridge, and begins to descend toward the valley of Caraccas, which, upwards of twenty miles in length, varying in breadth from four, to six or seven, and enclosed by lofty mountains, unfolds itself by degrees to the view. The town of Caraccas in this valley is nearly 2000 feet above the level of the sea, and stands on ground regularly sloping down to the river Guayra, a position in consequence of which its streets are rendered admirably clean by every shower of rain. The streets are in general about a hundred yards apart, and intersect one another at right angles, dividing the whole town into square portions, called Quadras. Excepting in the inelegant splendour of one of the churches,