462

RAMBLES IN THE ISLE OF MAN.

"Some travel to analyse earths, some to dissect morals; I love the grand." Hartford Bridge.

ON Thursday the 13th December, 1838, at eight o'clock at night, I left Liverpool, in the "Queen of the Isle" steamer, for the Isle of Man. It was not a rough night, but there was a great swell in the sea, and all the horrors of sea sickness were endured by nearly all the passengers. They tell me that the homeopathic doctors prescribe an infinitesimal for the prevention of this cruelty of the sea; but for my own part I like not to check these natural outgoings, for fear of a worse plague arising from the enemy pent within. But, as the great English moralist has said, "a ship, at the best, is a prison;" and what to you are the glad waters of the dark blue sea, when you cannot walk from one side of a cage to the other? When the Vich Ian Vohr was led out to execution, he cast a longing look to the crimson heather of his native hills, but alas! the iron chain that bound him, and the remembrance of freedom and vigorous life but aggravated the pressure of the few moments between the prisoner and death. At five o'clock in the morning we anchored in the bay of Douglas; and never can I forget the scene. Immediately I clambered up the narrow steps, and was glad (as far as a sickened soul can be glad) to walk upon the deck. The wind blew very fresh-the lights at Douglas burned in the distance-it was a misty and dreary morning-and the outline of the hills could first be discerned and I was told that as the tide was out we should not get into the harbour for a few hours; but perhaps some boats would put off for us. This was soon the case, and slipping down the ship's side, we were glad to stow ourselves and luggage in a wet boat, and solace our drooped spirits with the speedy prospect of a cup of warm tea in a quiet and comfortable hotel. Such an hotel was the "York;" and we were ushered into a room lightened by the blaze of a fire which had long been burning, and the apparatus of the tea-kettle at once brightened our sea-sick eyes, and proclaimed to us that we were in the earthly haven where we would be. Visions of a cold room-fire to be lighted-chamber-maid to be awakened-kettle to be set on burnt-out candles to be removed-smell of tobacco poisoning-we shivering and they grumbling-were all dissipated in a twinkling, and we at once met with the reception of longexpected, and right-welcome guests. I trust that innkeepers sometimes travel themselves, and know the comforts of these things. I took a walk round Douglas, and thought it a very dirty illconditioned looking place; for I did not see the "Castle Mona Hotel" and its beautiful gardens, and the fine beach, all of which must in due time be described; for here is the focus of attraction to the ordinary visitor. For several nights before Christmas, it is customary for boys, dressed in white, and serenaded by an old fiddle and drum, to perambulate the streets, after the manner of

the mummers in England, and solicit contributions at the various dwellings; and this was acted to weariness on the night that I slept at Douglas. I thought that the cracked fiddle would never have got out of the street; and then the rude laugh does not amalgamate with preparations for repose. "Good morning to you, Mr. and Mrs. McKenzie," sounded at two o'clock in the morning; "and all the family that is so small, good morning to you, and luck to you," and then a dance, and mock fight, and strains that would have murdered all the cows on the island, and this repeated with little variation down an entire street. I like to see these old customs kept up, and willingly pay for them as long as they are kept within due bounds; for in England, revelling, and Morris-dancing, and even carol singing, are too often accompanied with much evil; and in lieu of country lads and lasses, the mere scum of provincial towns perambulate the country, and drunkenness and thieving are the order of the day. Well, I soon left for Ramsey, wondering in myself what kind of place it would be; for indeed I did not much like what I saw of Douglas. I had left Liverpool under the influence of strong reverential feelings for Bishop Wilson's Isle, and I expected to find every thing and every body, more or less savour of that holy man. I had heard that persons in debt did formerly seek an asylum in the Isle of Man; but these persons might be very good and moral, and still be unfortunately not very abundant in this world's gear; and, besides, since the laws had been altered, the island was no longer a city of refuge, other than by holding out to all honest men of small incomes a cheaper rate of living than could be provided in taxed and rated England: so that my reverence for the ancient isle of saints did not meet with a check until I had consumed some twelve or fourteen hours thereon, notwithstanding a pecuniary imposition on landing. But in Douglas I beheld what would have drawn tears out of the compassionate eyes of Bishop Wilson; and I met the drunkard's vacant and glassy stare, and the gambler's look of cunning, and saw the things that call themselves young men, as though the emblem of manliness was to be exhibited in abject effeminacy, puffing at a cigar, and looking as though an English fist, about the fifth button-hole, would send the things to that place where good divines in the time of Sir Walter Ralegh used to say, that all tobacco-smokers and chewers would go to without benefit of clergy.

More of the above island-metropolis anon, for to Ramsey, in the northern part of the island, I set out; and O what a queer vehicle is an Isle of Man coach! It most nearly resembles a London omnibus; but then there is as much difference between the appearance of the two vehicles as between that of a half-drowned rat and a sleek and comely race-horse. In the first place, it is little more than half the length of an omnibus; then it is on lower wheels, on far worse springs (indeed the London omnibusses are admirably hung); and then it is miserably horsed, and altogether a shabby affair when compared at all with Shillibeer and Chancellor. Whether the London vehicle owes its origin to the Isle of Man conveyances, I know not; or whether the two have existed independently of each

other, like Bishop Patrick's parable of the "Pilgrim," and John Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," I know not; but I believe that Mona lays claim to the originality of the affair. I must, however, say, that since the summer months have set in, and opposition coaches have been started, and loads of strangers are making the grand tour of the island, (id. est. from Douglas, by Loxey, to Ramsey, and onwards from Ramsey via Kirk Michael to Douglas), that a great and visible improvement has taken place; and that rival coaches, with bugles, &c., à l' Anglaise, regularly leave the "Mitre" and "Heelis's Hotel," in Ramsey, and they do not care to meet the fare which the flourish of trumpets attracts in St. Paul's Square. Well, in one of these crazy vehicles with broken windows, I set out for Ramsey, by the Kirk Michael road, on a cold and showery day. The scenery was so wholly new to me that it could not but attract my especial attention. After I had gained some distance from General Goldier's, of the Nunnery, and which was once the holy residence of the pious sister St. Bridget, the country assumed a very Irish aspect. For a vast extent a tree was not to be seen; bogs were apparent: the hovels by the road-side were formed of clay or mud, and the adult inmates were generally barefooted, and the children always lacking shoe, stocking, or sandal. But the people did not seem to resemble the Scotian generations in the north of Ireland, or the Spanish tall figures and dark countenances of the south, but appeared to be more Dutch-built in their persons, and more phlegmatic in their countenances than the Irish. In accent and style of language they partly resemble the sons of Erin, and always make the grammatical mistakes of "would" for "could," and "will" for "shall." I think that a Manxman may be best described as partaking of a mixture between the Irish and the Welsh, but they certainly lack the open look, and the slowness of speech of an Englishman. I have often watched Manxmen at their labours, and have particularly noticed the constant jabbering they keep up, as though all would suggest some plan of expediting the work; while English labourers would have set to it without a word, and looked with contempt on the man who would have spent one minute in chatting. I shall have much to say on the peasantry of the island, for I have been placed in contact with many of them on different

occasions.

Well, we left Peel to the left, and proceeded on through Kirk Michael village. There I perceived an excellent new church, and was told that a very good clergyman officiated; but I little heeded that the mortal remains of Bishop Wilson were in that churchyard deposited. Soon we passed the residence of the present bishop, which is called Bishop's Court, a place which had much the appearance of an ancient priory, and in it fires were blazing when we were almost perishing with cold. We met his lordship walking through the rain on the road: he was a tall man, and seemed to have an intellectual and benevolent cast of countenance, and not coming up to the em-bon-point appearance that I had associated with the name of Bowstead. It is singular how our minds are led to connect particular appearances with particular names, and even with

actions; but such is the fact, although we often come to very different conclusions in our fancies. There is no leading speaker in the Lords or Commons whose form and features I do not fancy according to the matter of their speeches and their situation in the country; and am often totally taken aback when I happen to see the real persons. Not long ago, I particularly noticed an M. P. in the lobby of the House of Commons. He was tall, and an uncommonly large and portly man; his countenance was full and rubicund, and his corporation, "with good capon lined," certainly required something more than the "boundlessness of realm" which it could obtain in the lobby, although it might have been satisfied with somewhat less than Lord Byron's whale. He was dressed in a plain blue coat with metal buttons, an expansive buff waistcoat, kerseymere knee breeches, and gaiters which intimated that his calves were not out at grass. He at once looked like a true John Bull-like a broad Herefordshire farmer, whose cheeks are reddened with "potations pottle deep" of cider-or like one of the Earl of Leicester's fine specimens of yeomanry, who drive into the market-towns in their curricles, and discuss many a bottle of port that lacketh not the bee's wing. I was accordingly anxious to learn what agricultural constituency he might represent, and to whose opinions he added his preponderating weight, when (will you believe it?) he turned out to be a cockney! Yes, reader, if you reside within the hearing of Bow bell, and have never been in the country to hear a cock neigh, you may have the best chance of beholding that son of Anak, Mr. Pattison, of the Bank of England, a man whom, you may rest assured, is worth a Grote !

We drove by the blazing fires of Bishop's Court, not altogether envying the good bishop's approximation to them, but looking forward with some degree of pleasure to the good things that might await us at Ramsey. It now became dusk, and therefore the very beautiful road through the parish of Lerayer, with the romantic view from the bridge at Salby, were lost upon us, and we beheld nothing specially grateful to the eye previous to our arrival at the hotel at Ramsey. Right glad we were to jingle over the streets of that town, and to behold the lights in the chemists' shops, and to hear the town-clock strike; but most glad to be welcomed by the kind and motherly countenance of mine hostess, Mrs. Heelis. A blazing fire, warm tea, peppered mutton chop, dry toast, and teacake, were soon before us; and, like Washington Irving, I felt as absolute as an emperor, with the room for my kingdom, the poker for my sceptre, and the waiters for my subjects; and I only wished that every king and queen in Europe might feel half as independent, and half as contented, and half as comfortable and happy; and our joy was akin to that of the mariner who exclaims, as though he knew he could not be confuted,

"When the shore is won at last,

Who will count the billows past?"

RAMSEY IN THE NORTH.

Beautiful and romantic Ramsey, how can words describe thee! Thy town is clean and neat, and will be neater still as strangers

draw toward thee. And O, if the pent-up inmates of London and of Liverpool, of Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, &c., could only know how refreshing are thy breezes, how invigorating thy scenes, how kind thy inhabitants, and how spacious and comfortable is thy hotel, surely there would be a contest to reach thee foremost, and the advent of strangers would expel thy well-wishing aborigines from thy dwellings on the sea!-in other words, they would benignly retreat for a while, until thy new squares, thy beautiful crescents, and thy parades, and thy suburban villas, were arising in plenitude around thee. Delightful and dear Ramsey! propitious was that star that guided me to thee, and that even led me from Siluria's richer lands, and laughing vales, and hanging woods, and the banks of Vaga, to wander among the grander scenery in the isle of mountain and of flood. And now I imagine myself under the honour of introducing a stranger to thee, a son of England, on whose cheek the rose has ceased to bloom, and whose mind must be lifted from the difficult book awhile; and methinks he will be filled with new ideas and new affections, and return to his beloved country with renovated body and renovated heart, and sure I am, with renovated soul.

And now we have breakfasted heartily at Heelis's hotel, and are stepping out upon the beach; and we have a long day before us, and thy beauties are to be ransacked, and revelled in, and remembered, O Ramsey! First, we will walk along the shore-and let me pause, and contemplate the position in which I have placed the blue-eyed stranger of Britain. The tide is far out; not a sea-weed or tanglement of any kind is to be seen. He is walking upon a broad strip of dry and firm sand, within hearing of the softest dalliance of the murmuring wave: on his left hand, is the broad and open bay, with its good anchorage in the marl bottom; on his right hand is the town, which cannot intercept the larch-covered Ballure, and the high Barrule, which seems to tell you that there is strength in the hills; and before him is Maughold Head, with its isolated rock in the extreme distance of the bay. Here he must pause, and here he must walk awhile, and allow his feelings to be impressed with that religious peace which the serenity of the scene cannot fail to implant and duly increase. And here he will see the children at their gambols, laving their little feet in the cooling tide, or building houses on the sand, or aiding their fathers in drawing forth the sand-eels from their narrow recesses. And the sea gulls will be sailing obliquely over his head, and the gannet, too, may be dashing upon her prey in the glassy water, and the black divers will be busy in their victualling department-for they are cormorants in name and deed. The bark from Liverpool or Whitehaven will be anchored hard by, and mayhap a gallant steamer will come in, and hoist her signal; and the boats will put off, and bring the voyager in safety to the yellow sands of Ramsey, where often is beheld the parting of friends. Sometimes, two noble Scotch steamers will be alongside each other in the bay; and one is taking passengers away, while the other is landing; and busy is the scene of the plying boats. Here it is that, when Mona's