JOHN MILTON, THE POET AND PATRIOT. the divine displeasure; that on the other hand, in the most momentous periods, I have had full experience of the divine favour and protection, and that, in the solace and strength, which have been infused into me from above, I have been enabled to do the will of God; that I may oftener think on what he has bestowed, than on what he has withheld; that in short I am unwilling to exchange my consciousness of rectitude with that of any other person; and that I feel the recollection a treasured store of tranquility and delight. But if the choice were necessary, I would, sir, prefer my blindness to yours: yours is a cloud spread over the mind, which darkens both the light of reason and of conscience; mine keeps from my view only the coloured surfaces of things, while it leaves me at liberty to contemplate the beauty and stability of virtue and of truth. How many things are there besides, which I would not willingly see; how many which I must see against my will; and how few which I feel any anxiety to see! There is, as the apostle has remarked, a way to strength through weakness. Let me then be the most feeble creature alive, so long as that feebleness serves to invigorate the energies of my rational and immortal spirit; so long as in that obscurity, in which I am enveloped, the light of the divine presence more clearly shines: then in proportion as I am weak, I shall be invincibly strong; and in proportion as I am blind, I shall more clearly see. O! that I may thus be perfected by feebleness, and irradiated by obscurity! And indeed, in my blindness, I enjoy in no inconsiderable degree the favour of the Deity; who regards me with more tenderness and compassion in proportion as I am able to behold nothing but himself. Alas! for him who insults me, who maligns and merits public execration! For the divine law not only shields me from injury, but almost renders me too sacred to attack; not indeed so much from the privation of my sight, as from the overshadowing of those heavenly wings, which seem to have occasioned this obscurity; and which, when occasioned, he is wont to illuminate with an interior light more precious and more pure." The first edition of the Paradise Lost was published in 1665, the author receiving, as is well known, the sum of five pounds for his immortal work, with a further condition of receiving fifteen pounds more, should it reach a third edition! But its sale was rapid, and the admiration it excited almost universal. Some of the most eminent men of his time addressed to him the highest eulogies. Sir John Denman, a man distinguished as a soldier, a senator, and a poet, entered the House of Commons with a proof sheet of Milton's work, wet from the press, and exclaimed, "This is part of the noblest poem that ever was written in any language or in any age" and Dryden's exclamation on first seing it was "This man cuts us all out, and the ancients too!" With the close of his great life-work, we may end this biographical sketch. Ere the first edition of his poem had been sold, he was numbered with the mighty dead. "With a dissolution so easy that it was unperceived by the persons in his bedchamber, he closed a life, clouded indeed by uncommon and various calamities, yet ennobled by the constant exercise of such rare endowments, as render his name, perhaps, the very first in that radiant and comprehensive list, of which England, the most fertile of countries in the produce of mental power, has reason to be proud." His funeral was attended by "all his learned and great friends in London, not without a friendly concourse of the vulgar." His place of burial is in the church of St. Giles's, Cripplegate, and there England's noblest poet was committed to the dust, calm in the christian's sure and certain hope of a blessed immortality. THIS singular people inhabit the coast of Labrador in North America, a region of ice and snow. They have no fixed abode, but rove from place to place, avoiding, as far as they can, all European or American settlements. They eat their food in a raw state, in which they differ from the American Indians. They are of small stature, but generally Justy, and of a brown colour. Their chief employments are fishing and hunting, in which they are very expert. They are generally savage, covetous, and faithless, and very much disposed to mischief. One of their most singular customs is, travelling on sledges drawn by dogs, as seen in the picture. These dogs resemble a wolf in shape, have a thick bushy coat of hair, short thick ears standing erect, and their tails curl up over their backs. They never bark, but they howl horribly. In driving them, if one receives the lash, he bites the dog before him, and he bites the next, and away they all go faster than ever. They will draw a sledge, with several people on it, many miles a day. The Esquimaux are in an awful state of ignorance. Their religious notions are very confused, and even childish. And yet there are in their traditions certain leading features which shew that they came at first from the bible. Lanman has mentioned these,-"The first man who came into the world sprang from the bosom of a beautiful valley; in this valley he spent his infancy and childhood, feeding upon berries; and having on a certain occasion picked up a flower which dropped over one of his accustomed paths, it immediately became changed into a girl with flowing hair, who became his playmate, and afterwards bis wife, and was the mother of all living. They believe in a heaven and hell, and consider that the road to the former is rugged and rocky, and that to the latter level and covered with grass. Their ideas of astronomy are peculiar, for they consider the sun, moon, and stars, as so many of their ancestors, who have, for a great variety of reasons, been lifted to the sky and become celestial bodies. In accounting for the two former, they relate that there was once a superb festival given by the Esquimaux in a glorious snow palace of the north, where were assembled all the young men and maidens of the land. Among them was a remarkably brave youth, who was in love with an exceedingly beautiful girl. She, however, did not reciprocate his attachment, and endeavoured by all the means in her power to escape from his caresses. To accomplish this end, she called upon the Great Spirit to give her a pair of wings; and, having received them, she flew into the air and became the moon. The youth also endeavoured to obtain a pair of wings, and, after many months, finally succeeded; and, on ascending to the sky, he became the sun. The moon, they say, has a dwellingplace in the west, and the sun another in the far east. They account for thunder and lightning by giving the story of two women who lived together in a wigwam, and on one occasion had a most furious battle. During THE ESQUIMAUX BOY. the affray the cabin tumbled in upon them, causing a tremendous noise, while the women were so angry their eyes flashed fire. Rain, they say, comes from a river in the sky, which from the great number of people who sometimes bathe in it, overflows its banks, and thus comes to the earth in showers. When one of their friends has departed this life, they take all his property and scatter it upon the ground, outside of his cabin, to be purified by the air; but in the evening they collect it together, and bury it by the side of his grave. They deem it wrong for the men to mourn for their friends, and think themselves defiled if they happen to touch the body of the deceased; and the individual who usually performs the office of undertaker is considered unclean for many days after fulfilling his duty. The women do all the wailing and weeping; and during their mourning season, which corresponds with the fame of the deceased, they abstain from food, wear their hair in great disorder, and refrain from every ablution. When a friendless man dies, his body is left upon the hills to decay, as if he had been a beast. When their children die, they bury the body of a dead dog in the same grave, that the child may have a guide in his pathway to an unknown land, to which they suppose all children go." THE ESQUIMAUX BOY. A FEW months ago, the following account of a boy of this singular and untutored tribe appeared in Chambers' Journal. We believe our young friends will be much interested on perusing it; and we hope, thankful too, that they were born in a country like this, where so many advantages are enjoyed. The whalers of the port of Kirkcaldy, which make an annual visit to the stormy, ice-bound shores of Davis' Straits, have often gratified us with live specimens of bears, wolves, foxes, and such-like members |