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B E N T L E Y^:S 








Stanford Libraryl 
DEC 20 1956 ■ 

. fTABKf \ 

Tifclii'-T'"""'" *'* Kmn. 

ABgd Oeoit, aUBBM MiMt 



The War and iU Aspects, ...... 1 

AjpeD Court, and who Loit and who Won it. A Tale of oar Own lime. 

By Shirley Brooks, ... 17, 805, 337, 447. 561 

Haps and Mishaps of a Tour io Europe. By Grace Greenwood, 

38, 139, 282. 412, 463 

The Exile and the GoTemor, ...... 41 

AdTemares of Benjamin Bobbin the BainnBii. By Crawford Wilson, 


Arthur Arden ; or. The Medical Stndent, ... 59, 853 

Slareiy in Russia, ,.....• 07 

Clouds and Sonshine. By Charles Beade, Author of " Christie John- 
stone," .69, 123, 228 

General Sir WiHiam Nott, ...... 8~ 

The Theatres of London. Their History— Fast and Present, 89, 135, 276, 371 

Short Notes on a few recent Novels, ..... 96 

My Aviaiy, 108 

The Nightingale, 205 

The Campaign against Russia, and the N^otiations pending . 107 

Love and Time, ......... 134 

Mr. Fixby's Visit to Skye, 151. 241 

Lamartine's Historical Characters, ..... 168 

History of Cricket. By Edward Jesse, 

The Shores of the Baltic, . . 

Van De Velde's assumed Refutation of De Saulcy, 

A Tale of my Landlady. By A. W. Cole, 

The EffecUofan Empty Purse. By A. W. Cole 

Sketches ofBeligious Life in the East, . 

Admiral Sir Charles Napier, .... 

War and Peace, ...... 

Spain and iu ProspecU, ..... 

Mary Mine. ...... 

Society in Washington. By Mrs. Kirkland, 

The ifoulogne FStcs, and the French Emperor, . 

Sevastopol. ...... 

Sonnet to England. By George H* Boker, 

Russia and the Russians. .... 

Recollections of a Journey to Jellalabad, 

The Phantom Party. By Angus B. Reach, 

An Undergraduate s Vacation Ramble to Sweden, including 
Bomarsund, ...... 

The Flitch of Bacon, ..... 

The Campaign in the Crimea, .... 

Johnson's Lives of the Poets, .... 

Master Guy. By the Author of " Table Traits with something on them 

Teresa Bandettini, the Improvisatrice, . . . 

The Countess Ste. Aulaire, . . • • 

Lord Metcalfe, ..,..• 










^ :^5iV^ 



The EvenU of the Tear, . . . . .541 

Re|Teto, .... 

. 553 

Altitade of Austria in the East, . 

. 555 

Lord Mayor's Show, . , . 

. 577 

3%e Fate of Sir John Franklin, 

. 580 

Paris Viveur, Bohemian, and InduitrilL 

. 586 

Bobert Southey and Charles Lamb, 

. 603 

An Adventure in SwitserUnd, . . 

. 610 

Charles Kemble, . . 

. 623 

The War-Fiends' Mission, 


From Piccadilly to Fera, . 

. 638 

Songs from the Dramatists, 

. 637 

The Water Cur^ 


Sudden i>uth» ..... 


Portrut of Admird Sir Charle* Nbi^ct. K.C3q to ftce 






War eridenlly waits and has wailed on diplomacy. 'ITiat is 
tfao secret, t)ie solution of the i^nij^a, wliich it is oihonvi^te im- 
possible to undi'ntland. hr)rd Jtilin Ktissell acquainted the world, 
fironi tlie Iimiingn of the City, what the Hritish army bad been 
going to do. 'lliey wore to occupy Vama, and thus leave at 
Uraer Pasha'K di.«[K>sal Iho 14,000 Tnrkisli soldiRrn, nhich be 
kept there. It is plain enough, fmm Lord John's speech, that if 
tlie >ic^ of Silislria was to be raised, it was to be so by the opera- 
lion of Turkish troops, not by any ofTensiTc oiK-rations of the 
Brittxb nnnv. Thrre wsa to he a small Frencli division sent to 
tli« Itriti^h at Vama, but not one of considerable numbers. The 
main body of ihti French was to hare marched under Marshal St. 
Aniaud to Adrianople, and uichont going even to Schumla, but 
to pureoe the direct ro:ul to Sophia and to Widdin, iu order to 
cnws the Danube aX tlut town, and opemto against the Russians 
in WalUfhU. 

To a simple obserrer, the adoption of such a plan must occa- 
sioa cfHmdcrablu surprise. For what is the greaiu&t advantage 
in war ? The greatest is certainly to have the power of attacking 
Tonr memy on a great many points, and of course of menacing 
nim nil all thi>iH* points, which muHt kepp liis attention, as well as 
h'tft forciri disseminated, and enable the possessor of that advan- 
tage to pour a great body of men upon places and'ujwn armies 
unequal to such an attack. As long as the Anglo-French forces 
were in the Bosphorus, or tlic Ulack Sea, their generals enjoyed 
the BfUantagt; ulhided (o. Rus&ia nii.k;bt tremble for tlie Crimea, 
for SebastvpoV for the Pruth, and the fortresses on it, for the 
mouib of the I)annhe, and the fortrcKses near it ; bnt Irnni thu 
moment iJiit Map^hal St. Aniand look his fir&t march lo Adii»no- 

StCf I2tts<ian fears were aUayed, and Russian anxieties ceased. 
ebastnpol could not be attached, nor the Crimea invaded by a 
Und force. 

Why then Tvas this plan of campaign adopted, which was, we 
belioTe, lar less English than French I And, certainty, when 
ibe French do bring double our force into the field, it is fjiir 
tliat they should have the direction aud disposal of it. Neither 
should we be inclined to criticise severely or |i>o closely these 
allies, frankly embarked in wnr in conjuncliun with us. Our ob- 
ject is less to criticise than to explain ; aud, doubtless, the ndvan- 
lages which we have munueraied above, might have been recom- 
fMBScd by other advantages of equal import. In the opinion 
of Marshal ist. Amuud they were to. The Marshal, and his 
GuTemment, are great believers in Austria, 'lo have inveigled 
Attstria imo the conference which condiinned Kussiii, i« the gie&V 
boast of M. Drou>D de I'lJay^; aad the belief of Om I'rencVi 


Secretary of Foreign Affairs is, that Austria will at last, by declar- 
ing war, make it utterly impossible for Russia to continue resist- 

Austria, on every occasion, has declared, that it must be by a 
great moral coercion, that the Emperor of Russia is compelled to 
Btoop to the united will of Europe. Count Buol deprecates colli- 
&ion and provocation ; thinks that an attack npon either Sebastopol 
or Kronstadt would be premature ; and that, although it may con- 
tribute to peace to have the Russians baffled in their attacks on 
Silistria by the Turks, it would mar all hopes of it, if Paskiewitch 
were driven from it in disgrace by 50,000 French and English. 
Count Bug!, therefore, begged that, at least, the commencement of 
the campaign might be comuunative. 

Austria, too, might have feared, or rather affected to fear, that 
Russia, angered by the way in which the Cabinet of Vienna has 
turned against her, might throw one of its armies into Hungary, 
appeal to the several discontented nationalities of that conntfy^ 
and raise again iu Hungary a portion of that insurrection which it 
aided to cnish. We do not believe in the likelihood of this; 
but if Austrian fear existed of such a thing, the line of march 
taken by the French army was calculated to support and encou- 
rage the Austrians. 

Circumstances have placed out of season and out of possibility 
the kind of campaign to which we allude. If we dwell upon it, it 
is that the same influence which led to so glaring an error, is 
now likely to produce another. We have still faith in Austria. 
We still follow France in the conviction that it is requisite to be 
obsequious to Austria, and to conduct the war so as to please the 
Court of Vienna, rather than strike home at that of St. Peters- 
burg. We are not to cross the Danube, or even to allow the Turks 
to prosecute their victory by occupying and invading the Princi- 
palities. This triumph is to be reserved for Austria, which has 
never fired a shot. 

Notwithstanding the value of the Austrian alliance, we must 
confess ourselves as amongst those who are disappointed at the 
complete nidlity of our military and naval efforts. Were the war 
concluded to-morrow, were the menacing attitude of Austria and 
Prussia to induce Russia to promise the evacuation of the Princi- 
palities and the abandonment of its claims on Turkey, there 
would still remaiu the impression that the two great maritime 
powers of the West had proved unequal to make Russia feel their 
powerj and that they were unable to bring her to reason without 
the aid and inten'ention of the German powers. 

To such objections as these, it is replied, that of the two great 
objects, the first, to make war successfully, the second, to make 

Seace securely and satisfactorily, the Western Powers are more 
ependent upon Austria for the latter than for the former. The 
English and French might beat hack the Russians from the 
Danube ; but what power is to keep the Russiuis permanently 
from crossing that river ; what power is its natural guardian, and 
dUe, from its position, to guarantee the task east of Europe for 


BsHJii: jiustrin is tliat powt-r. Aiielria alone ran I'oiider a 

(n«*v rfltflirr, which dcrlHrcu llie D.imbian I^rtiK'ipalitifs neu- 

toil, irbiclj wiiU tiiat dq foreign soldiers sliall ever, nr in any case, 

toad them — that Uie sliores of tlie Danalie ^ihull be opeu to 

(W commerce of all nations. Kn^land and France could only 

miaitD hbIi provisions by bniiding a fortress of itiu first order 

w Ae Dnnulw, unil k-aviuf^ a joint garris'in there; a measure 

fcui^fa with difficulty, joalousy. expunse, distasteful tu eiery 

party, aud all the time eoui|rL'llii)g the keepiug up of fleets and 

miuefi ready to give succour and support. 

Tliia may be tery true, but there arc also Tery seriouR incon- 
tenimlrea ai)d drawbacks in tlie Kclieme uf rcudcring Aiif>tna ihe 
lole and permanent ^imrdinn of the cnuntrics south of the Da- 
ube. Anstria is not a maritime power. It has no Qeot. Let 
AuKiM have what force she pleases on tlic UaiiiilH;, nho can- 
DOC prereni the Ku&sians froui sailing up the Hnsphoms, and 
Undiiig an anny in any one of its creeks. The manlime guard 
of C^Riitantinople, therefore, against Sebastopol, which is hut 
forty-eigfat hours sail frotn il, mnst still be left to fleets and forces, 
tbtt «rr In come from 'Malta and Toulon. Hut treaties — ttolemn 
|2«tttir-«. by which Itu&^ia enga^ivs io respect the independence of 
tbv Poite and the neutrality of the Danubian Proriiices — such 
tnatjes as these with Austria, and the German powers parlies to 
tben, arc surely the strongest laws, that we can hope or should 
dttsirv, aftaiDBt the ombiiion of Kossia. 

Tbia was the «lrcam ratlior tlian the hope of two of the greatest 
of modera steteimcD. Talleyrand aud Mettcniich, ihe laiUT uf 
«b<an expecK to fulfd in 1HA4 what he vainly endeavoured 
to do in 18'2f4 and 1639. The apparent direction of Hflairs in 
Atpitria h. for thv moment, a renewal of MetterTiich policy — the 
alltancu «ith France and England — thi; hand of fricodsliip, less 
than the sword of enmiiy stretched out to Rusna, llie other Ger- 
msu I>Utles led to ndliere, and lo join a united German policy — 
aQ tiw is XeUemicL's idea, to which tlio F.mpernr gtveK his 
asMOt, beeaUM he see^ nmiics raiM-d, and truinpels hounding, 
■ad becanae Uetieraich promises, and France hopes, that the 
Danobo man yot he his. 

It is a Ik^Iuv delusion, howerer, to suppose that Germany can 
e<er he rwtored to what was settled iu I8I0, and vfliich prevailed 
teaia that linis to ISJS. .Mctieruich may Uiink so. His idea 
:ridly IK tlint AiiNtria is hnilt on a rock, and that Anfliri;i, and 
in, and Germany, will be found in 1!I5() just what tliey were 
in ItOO. This, with all deference to M. de Mctteniieh, is gn^atly 
10 be doubled. France will always be France, England will 
atwaya be Kngtaud, aud Germany must always bo Germany. 
But rWoria in ten yirars may not be Austria, .^nd where, then, 
'» tlie guardianship of the Danube ? Were the Danube now 
rvd, Irt' the Russi;iuti being beaten from it by tlie troops uf 
W(*tem Powers and those of 'I'urkey, and were the indo- 
pondeocc of the Principolitiei, as the result of this Bacces«fu\ 
war, taubUshod Ij- Frn/fco md l'/£i)gfaad, in conjuoctiun w\0:\ 


k But 



Austria, the inhabitants, people, Boyards, and princes of those 
prorinces, would feel an independence, a security, and a support, 
which would hare maintained their sovereignty under all faaaards 
and all chances. ^Vhereas, if Rnsda makes a show of voluntary 
xetreat, and if, instead of being Turkish feudatories under Rus- 
sian protection, the Hospodars are also under Austrian as well as 
Rus^an protection, the people of the Principalities will never 
acquire that feeling of independence and of liberty, which the 
successful arms of the West could have given them. 

The true solution of the Danubian question was to hare beaten 
the Rus^ans out of the Provinces adjoining the river. People, 
races, kings, and politicians in those countries, and all eastward 
of them, understand victory, and abide by it. It is the award of 
Heaven, the right of the strongest. There is now, however, no 
chance or intention of that. The Russians will withdraw before 
the apparent menaces, but realty before the exigences of Austrian 
and Prussian diplomacy. And if Austria and Russia are satisfied, 
England and France cannot prolong the war for mere trifling sti- 

As to Austria going actually to war with Russia — ordering her 
armies to enter Bessarabia, and seriously menace the rear of Pas- 
kiewitch, — this, which is and has been the daily expectation of 
every writer of the French and English press, never was contem- 
plated as possible by any but ourselves. It could just as much 
take place as Prussia's attacking the Czar upon the Niemen ; and 
for a Turkish question, too, for which Prussia cares not a rush. 
Prussia, indeed, has been made to care for what is of itself in- 
different to her by the known threat of France, ihat if the exist- 
ing demarcations of Europe are to be disturbed by one power 
for its own benefit, France will feel at liberty to follow the ex- 
ample ; and that the Emperor Napoleon will be no longer bound 
by treaties, narrowing what he considers his natural frontier, if 
Russia should proceed to carve and appropriate Turkey. Russia, 
however, is prepared to concede to the demands of Prussia and 
of Austria ; that is, it will evacuate the Principalities, and declare 
itself content with the promises which have been wrung from 
Turkey, respecting her Rayahs. These conditions, and as near 
to the status quo as possible, will be, no doubt, the defensive 
position which the Czar will take up. 

War or no war, as an eminent Russian observed, we must look 
to a total change in the policy of Russia. The government of 
that empire has laboured incessantly for the last thirty years in 
supporting sovereigns against their subjects, in preaching dictator- 
ship agaiust liberty, and in helping ever}' monarch out of difficul- 
ties, so as to render them as powerful and independent as possible. 
The result of Russia's sincerely conservative efforts has been to 
partition Europe into three great military empires besides her 
own, each of these empires despotic. It is precisely these military 
empires which beard Russia, and which liare combined to stay its 
advance even to tlie Danube. Had France remained conslitu- 
tioaaJ aad free under a legitimate Bourbon, or ; U(ui-Bourbon — a 




k Uut 

Cbtrie» the Tenth even, or a Louis Philippe — it wouH have oflTensd 
M obtlacles to Kussia. Had PiuKsiu Ixxii Icii lo stni):^'!' aj^'aiDst 
in democracy, were the King euibarrasstfd into a liberal charter, 
freren in t>ie "oarTOir union' which he atteuptvO fur Germany, 
W wodM hare loo tntich work on his bands to be incddlitig with 
aati-Rii'^ian conferences. Had Austria been ohli^'cd to treat with 
« con^litiitional Hungary and a constitutioaol Italy, it could not 
Wre fonned corps itarm^e in Gallicia and in Transylvania. Had 
Bassis rallied it in IH^Ifl to nationality, it could lia\'o made the 
prcsfDl War in its name, and been invincible. Slavons and even 
31ag)'ars would hare been grateful, where kings and empcroni have 
aoi been so. Alexander got Poland by |»laying the lilieral, and 
dispUring a uondcrful respect for nationality and constitution- 
aKsoi. A true Uu&siaii, like Nicholas, could not ^o thiti leii^^h. 
Hm word constitatioD might not suit bis nmulh. But he might 
preach the independence of the S!avon«, and far outbid even 
fengluh, French, and .\ustiian iutcntiuns fur tho independence of 
both Ci»- and Trans- Danubians, 

A Riuman, of that only claM of RuKsinus which l<now« cffery- 
tfaing, ms a very short time since expounding to Ins astonished 
oonipanions of other countries, bow this must be the future policy 
of Nicholas. He was met by a smile of incredulity from more than 
vne of lhu$e whom he addressed, .-^nd he, who was most dubious, 
Ulastratrd bis smile by saying, "And Poland?" Tliiswas to hint, 
that if the Czar durst play at the game of ineurrection, and try to 
imitaii? that policy, which Canning threatened, but never put in 
practice, that of abetting the insurgents and insurrectionists of alt 
cciuniries, the Czar's enemies would have far greater advantage lo 
trip bim up ; that eveu Poland was far more discontented, and ready 
lo mutiny, than any land of .Slavon or Magyar. " Y'ou do not 
"know Poland/' observed the Russian, "or you would not continue 
to recVoD upon it as tho Poland of 18-'K). lloliere me, my friends, 
ibera i» no longer a Poland, Bavo the few who exist in emigraiion. 
The surface of the Ouchy of Warsaw has been swept clean of its 
FoKsb popoJatioD, and there arc more genuine Uussians in Poland 
now tlian Poles. You might as well foment an insurrectiou in the 
eunrons of Moscow as in those of Warsaw. No doubt, one of the 
threats which has stirred Prussia, faas been, that if the war were 
protracted, French and English troops would infallibly land iu the 
Baltic prorinccs of Rii»iia ; and that if Courlaudcr or Tilhnanian 
were tbneby prompted to revolt, tbo insurrectiou wuidd gain 
PowDt and di.<(puie tite tranquillity of Prussia. And it is true 
ettou;;!), that insurrection might easily bo arou.scd in cither Prus- 
siaii or Auitiiau Poland. But Russian Poland is now past the 
poasibiltty. Polish nationality, as yon call it, bas not merely been 
(tnnglcd, but eaten up. Russia and tho United Stales of America 
are toe only nations at the present day which can nut only over- 
eone but assimilate, and extend their nation as well as their 
finatJer ; and they arc, consequently, destined to form ibc great 
empim of the old and of the ul'vv world. England ban taVetk 
tbtrc centuries to assimilaiv hvhtul, and in that Utile tasV \\iv& tvoV 



yet succeeded. Alsare remains as German as in the farfit year 
tlittt l.(iiii» SIV. conquered it. Neiihrr rrance nor England 
knoirs liovlo aseimilate. AcouDlry must be young lo possegG the 
powers of digcsiion reqiusite." 

Tliis doctrine of digesting and assimilating siiliject or con- 
quered couuiries, is certainly the strangust reasou ret alleged for 
putting a deci<led and definitive fitop lo the nrn^^csH of Kusna. 
And bfivbarisni certainly hiis powers for this purjtose which 
civilised couutries dare not employ, it can treat population like 
sht'P]!, ili.splace tlieni, sepanilu them fntiii troxliliiin and fntiu creed, 
and thu» acconipliith an atiiMrjuion impossible to the countricK 
of tho West. 'J'lie powers of uveu Itu»»iau assimilation are, how- 
ever, cxftggemtc-d. The llolcic provinces rcniflia as German as 
they were in the first days of their conquest; Jind even of Poland, 
tlii'ti' UTO routs and Hparks under ground that uo Russian boot can 
tread out. 

Far from having asBimilatcd the province^ last conquered at its 
exti'c Ditties, these offer to invading Bimies every facility and desire 
of emancipAtton. Finns and Lithuanians on the Baltic, us well as 
the Tartar and Mahometan races on the Crimea, and eastward of 
it, are best prepared for indeiM^ndeDce. Thus if Ku»ia was to 
rcfiiKr all terms, and pentist in a Inuglhcned war, the Western |iovrcrs 
would Be\'«r large slicra from the overgrown empire of Russia, 
and that the most inipoitant, because they art* the weaker portion 
of the empire. Deprived of the Crimea, HuMiia would not have 
a port in the "Black Sea; no port capable of being used as an 
arsenal. Ueprived of Itcvcl and Ilclsinf,'fnr5, the Gulf of Finland 
Would be a mure eUttumm, and ihe Ku^^.^aii cajiilal with enemies 
permanently e-slabUnhird at its gales. 

But the great problem which the present war nwett if not solve, 
at least throw considornhlo HgbL u|)on, in, the relative force of 
naval offence to coast defence. The last war left the opinion 
BBtablUhed, that granite wu« superior to oak. The guns upon the 
arc an overmatch' for the cannon which floats with the other. 
Jut the jimgress made in the aiming, in the gimncry. and tho 
propelling of ves'M.'ls has been so gi'eat, that people were inclined 
to think that the leviathans of the deep had inntieDBely increaned 
in the relative power of silencing and destroying land defences. 
Tliu circumstances which marked the desiruotion of St. Jean 
d'Acre, where the Egyptians, however good artillerymen, and 
reared in the Trench school, were unable to hold their ground 
agaiuHl the fire of the £eel, was considered conclusive. And 
when it was fir^t known that we were going tn war with a nation 
which had merely coast defences and littoral fortresses to oppose 
lo onr nten of war, the exultation was great, and the expecution 
of wouders to be innuedialely achieved, equally so. The ardour 
of thcjiu anticipations has, B-e need not ksv, vcrr much abated. 
Tlie ttarine-«s of our fleet for now nearly two months, evinces 
a great respect fur stone walls and granite batteries. Kven with 
'Napier, the calculation of probable injury or loss evidently 
balances the prospect of advantages to be gained. 




Tfcere aie, hoirercr, a preat many consideratious. First of 
ifl cumes itie iDutUiiy uf damaging sliip^ merely for the salie 
tt aonentarily tli»inouming guns, anil clearing battcrius. Sup- 
fO&B e*«ry gun on tho walls of Sebustopol were dismounted, its 
attUlcryuen blovm from their iIcfcuccD — stiiipiise eren to grant 
ibey w^rc displaced, that n-e had but t^ land and blow up the 
■MSt obuoxiuuB u( its dtilences — where is the gaiu without peima- 
mmt oecnpalion ? In a few weeks tbtj Russians would hare put 
ererytfaittg to righta again. Every displaced stone would have 
b o o replaced, erery cannon d<'&lru}'ijd uould give way to one of 
In^vrMetaL lliurc arc not more than a couple of vessels hitild- 
ing at S«bBstopol. Russia teeniK with naval stores. What could 
w* dirfttroy there which could not be Rupplicd ? and, so destroying, 
what Uiuuld our fleets ijuflvrr Such conKideralions as the^e cool 
Che afdour of narnl couiiunndcrs. Such a place as Sebastopol 
on^it evidently to hv atUckt-d by a land, a» M'ell a*^ sea force, and 
thMi, Mil tniTcIy for tlie piiqiusc uf more eubily capturing it, but 
Oi order fo make sure of its capture, and turn it to accounL 

AU that has been said respecting Sebastopol applies equally to 
Svaaborg. It would cost two or three vessels to reduce il^ and 
wkai Rboald be done with il after all t Let the Kussians rc-cntor 
ilaataoktng ruin», and they will m.ike a far more efficient fortress 
ont of their remains than it nan before, for they will then linow all 
its weak poinlB, and everything rculiy wiiiitiiig for its more perfect 
anBanaaL aud defeuce. 'Jliere is, however, one fortress, and the 
■oat iiDpQctant of all Ku»siaii foctrusscti, which is not in ihc con- 
dition o( either Sebastopol or Swcuhorg; and that is, KronstadL 
]| is situated on an uland. If taken, it might be kept, garrisoned, 
dafanded. Croastadt iu possesi^ion uf a foe, St. I'utcrsburgh 
wild be untenable; all the pomp, power, and court of this city 
ahiHild be trausfcn-cd to Moscow, and the great work of Prter the 
Great would bo undone. But can Kron^ladt be taken } This is 
■ qmilipD ihoi uo one cnn answer. If attacked iu known and 
expected ways, Kmnstadt is considered by luiHtary and naval men 
iflfovgaaLlc. But nar has its devices aud iuvt-ulious, and we are 
oiftKljr in tbo dark as to what might be attempted, or what might 
ncccvd. If it be one of the strongest of fortresses, it is also one 
of the mist tempting uf prizes. It is n fort aud citadel to the 
capital uf Kossia; and its cuuquust wuuld be a grealar blow than 
even Napoleon ever dealt that empire iu his many batlle-ficlds. 

But if Kroustadt canuot be taken — and certainly, wlicu tve con- 
aider tliAl there is but one chanuel capable of rrceiviug large 
vaaa^ which approach, and that thousands of gnus can be 
■ Once n tiated upou that chanuet, it is ver^' possible that it cannot 
be taken — then Ruasia in Lite Baltic is like Rui^ia in the Black 
Sea, only rulnerablc to a land force, which shall arm permanently 
to invailc aud occupy its disalfccled provinces. The rususcitation 
of Tartar iudt-pentlunce in the Crimea, of Swedish superiority in 
Finland, arc severe blow^ that can unly be dealt, however, by 
targe expeditionary armies, tlie allied fleets, however poirurfal, 
playing but a sccoatiary part. 


But IhcBc ore tedious eutcrfmses, dcpentiing for success on tT 
numhtr of circumstances cunceniin]» which we liavo no ctsrtain 
(lata, tliough, indecfl, it is erident iliat the Govcmnoents of both 
France and Knglaud bare uot yet luoked to tlicm us means of 
warfare, at least for llie present year. Our tactics, ihcrefore, as 
we suid at tlie beginning nf this article, wait upon our diplomacy, 
and our dtulumacy undertakes to bring Kusaia tu reasuii. less by 
Btlncking nor with our flcctn mid armies, than by gelling the 
Gcituan Powers to menace war. At llie moment sve write, the 
world is on tliu li|>loo ui expectation to see Au&lria srurt forth and 
take part in the war ; and even Prussia call forth tier laudwebr, 
and advance her contingent into Poland. 

In despite of all appearances, ull promises, all declarations to 
the contrary, wc still persialin the opinion that Prussia is friendly 
to the Czaj- ; that it only joined llie Conference at the first no 
doubt with the hope of •i^erling war, but also with the iulention 
more of serving than of hui'ting Kn<ssiu. There is, no doubt, a 
party in Pnissta, and even at the Pnissijin court, which thinks 
that Itnssia has vvei^heil with tyrannous power upon Oermauy, and 
especially upun I'nissiii, prcvenliii}; her fitim putting herself at 
the henii of Germany in 1^4!), and thus drawing her back ft-oui 
the positiou of a Oriit'rate p'vwer, Mhich she was about to assiimet 
to that of a secoud-mtu power; llius buniblin^^ the kin^^ilom in 
the eyes of Kuropc, and the dynasty in the consideration of ihc 
people. Tilts is a wrong mit only felt by liberals, but by function- 
aries and olliccrs — by Hnnsen and by Bonin, and, above all, by 
the Piiucc of Prussia. 

But such feelings, eren of injustice and wrong, do not amount 
to a desire to humble Russia by forco of arms. The Empress of 
Hussia is sister to the Prince of Prussia ; the wife of the Prince 
is the daughter of the Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, sister of Alex- 
andar and of Nicholas ; there is that feeling between tbe families 
that would give to war a fratricidal character At ibis moment 
the King has been to meet the Kmperor of Russia, and be hae 
brought his brother, the Prince of Prussia, with hiui. The inter- 
view is the prelude, not to war, but to peace. The Prussian 
monarch has just met the Austrian Emperor at Tetschcn. Ue is 
fully aware how far Austria has connected herself to the Powers of 
the West. We have not a doubt that out of this interview will pro- 
ceed more taugible propositions for peace thua have yet been put 
forward. One of these already shows itself, and evidently is, lliat 
the Kussiaus shall retire beliind the Prnth, the French, English, 
and Turks i-cniainiug south of tbe Danube, whilst tlic Principalities 
are to be occupied by an Austrian army, until such time as the 
full conditions of peace be agreed on^ and the fate of the 
Donubian provinces sealed. The Porte, it is said, has already 
consented to the Austrian occupation, no doubt with the appro- 
baiion of Franco and England. 

Soch are our opinions of the present state of the crisis, the pre- 
sent feelings and aims of the difiircnt Oovenimcnts, But we may 
be wrong. Every one forms a judgment to the best of his opi- 





MDB and iDrunziKlion; nnil liiii imprcFslon nf a measure, or of a 
atOt may be utterly chnngrd -itul sot astray, so ttiat the uisosi 
■nr BIT. We are far fruui pretending to more tliao comiiion 
■dgnieni of Uio ways uf iut'oritmtioii opeti to oil cbc world. 
nom this wc conclude thai Prussia cnonol be inimical to Russia, 
iue* not meditate war, and ouly interferes for friendly puriiose^. 
OTtlie sincerity and of the efficacy of Austrian hoKlililv tu Jtuesia 
«e also dovibt, ihoiigh not in llic same tlcgrt^e. Austria is deeply 
laterested in removing iias&ia from the Danube, and iu setting 
free tbe fttreain o( that river. Rut that she vroulil pro»ccnlc her 
vinrs at present by any other than diplomatic efforts appears to 
us Diottt unlikely. 

But, wc repeat, we may he wrong. Events may surprise and 
contradict ut. Tlie Em|>eror Nicholas may prove obstinate. 
Nbiwi lit* tan ding the failure of liis ever)' hope, the tardines't and 
utier want of success of his own army, wliich could not drive iho 
Xoriu back from SiUslria and Kalafat, still he may have put faith 
iaUie defeu»ire power of bis empire, and muy refuse to treat of the 
ira of Ttirkey iu common with oihcr Powers. If, as the result 
of bis obstinacy, Austria and Germany should be forced into a 
war with Russia, then, indeed, wili comiiicnee a new era, then will 
apm oat a new aeries of poliiicnl events, aims, and relations, and 
the world be gratified with wlial, after all, it most loves, that is to 
Mv, uuTcIly. 

To uke the weight of Russia off Gcnnony, to emancipnte the 
country bO far as to leavo it Lo its own influences; lo allow its 
OVD different opinions and parlies, itillu<-nces and ideas, interests 
■od policies lo become developed and tlirow cut men aTid parties 
to rvpretent thorn — this would do more for the advancement of 
Europe, aud of her liberty in it, than any event that couid pos- 
ubly take place. The chief, and final result of a free Germany 
would iio doubt be to maite Prussia more powerful ; and, if 
Prussia w«te unequal to the task, to at least erect a genuine 
GL-rmany west of the Inn, which would cnt off Austria, and 
comi'cl it to seek its strength eastward, not westward. Germany 
would then repudiate Austria, and the Ilouse of Hapsbuig would 
find itself recompensed for the loss of a German empire by the 
acquisition of a Slavonic one. For Ibis, however, Rnssia must be 
not only humbled, but defeated ; not only checked, but reduced, 
and reduced bo as the two Rrcal German Powers alone could do, 
hacked by the alliance and support of llie Powers of the West. 
~Sor is the eflbrt too great for (iiTuiinis, if Germans could have 
a will. Wc do not believe in its bein'^; ever attempted ; but 
wo should be the very first to hml the effort, should it be made, 
aa the very greatest one that fortune could ordain for tbe com- 
plete emancipation and development of Europe. 

This desirable result, altliough it may uot come now, for, wo 
repeat, Prusiiia appears not to be sincere in its hostilitv tu Russia, 
a&d Austria is uot half so warm or so zealous as she pretends 
to te — tlie result, though it may not come now, may be accom- 
ptifthed hereafter. For, honcivr Icniciuly, and even fncniWWy 

^ path 


treated, Knssia canDot but conceire a deep gradge against the 
Gennan Powers, whose attitude has hambled it, and still ob- 
structs the great aim of Russian policy. Whether the Czar mar 
not adopt the line of conduct pointed out in a former part of this 
article, that is, by embTacing Slavonic nationality, and favouring 
even German liberalism, remains to be seen. He may be eonsti- 
tutiona] in Berlin, socialist in Paris, Magyar at Pesth, Rouman at 
Bucharest, Greek at Athens. He is a person prodigal of promises, 
and not parsimonious of money ; and these qualities are apt to 
win the confidence of patriots who arc seldom either sufficiently 
scrupulous or snfficientiy wary to fear or reject the hand which 
holds out to them, no matter with what purpose, sympathy and 

There are few men who have employed their thoughts and anti- 
cipations upon the fnture of Europe, that must not look forward 
to the day when the antagonism between Germany and Russia 
should be complete, for the commencement of that great change 
which is to be wronght in the policy of the world. But every 
one must have deferred this hope until the arrival of the mode 
rately liberal or constitutional party to power in Germany, and 
when those acquisitions of political inflaence over its gorem- 
ment should impel them against RussiaD preponderance. No one 
ever dreamed, or dared to hope, that the princes of Germany 
would do this of themselves. No one could have believed that 
Austria, which owes the successful campaign of Radotski, and the 
recovery of the Milanese, to a timely supply of succours from St. 
Petersburg, and which again was indebted to the same Russia for 
the expulsion of Kossuth, and the submisnon of Georgey, could 
ever break with Russia, in order to ally itself, and lean for support 
— upon what? Upon Germany, which Austria cheated of its 
country and its liberties; upou Prusna, which it hambled and 
ousted of its land; and, finally, upon France and England — the 
one Austria's rival in Italy, the otiier the protector of that Hun- 
garian insurrection which Russia extinguished. No power could 
have predicted this of Austria, or can as yet believe it sincere. 
And if it turn out true that Lord Clarendon and Drouin de 
L'Hnys have accomplished this, they certainly deserve much 
greater credit and honour as politicians and diplomatists than 
have as yet been awarded them. 

It is remarkable how Austria, deeming herself obliged to take 
separate ground from Russia, was at the same time compelled to 
look for support in Germany. However averse were the exigen- 
cies of England and France, it is evident that they put the 
German powers to the necessity of deciding between the alterna- 
tive, of either coercing Russia, or being coerced themselvetf, into 
turning their whole force against Russia. Their neutrality was, 
therefore, an encouragement to Russia. The Western powers, 
too, plainy showed that they would be unable to respect this nea- 
tralitf ; and that if Russia was enabled by the culpable apathy 
of the German powers to appropriate the Dannbian provinces, 
the Western powers could only retaliate by pressing on Italy, 



■pm the Rhine, and, perhaps, npon the 'Hnltic provinces. 
mmnd by ihese new hoslilities, Austria aii<l Prussia forswore their 
•OflmoD SQiuitici, and losolred to face tliu rtangur together, or, at 
Imt, to assame the nppoarance of doin^ so. They concluded a 
firaty, fjuaraiiteeiog each other's prorinces ; a tre&ty quite as 
aaoh directed against France and England ns af;ainst Russia. 
They then irent to Ciermany for adherence, and they found it at 
Bunberg aod at Frankfort. Tlie other Btatcs of Germany joined 
tlw iMcnsive alliance, and agrevd to support both of the great 
povrrrs in war if uitiicr uf their territories be alucked. It is only 
lo the caAf! of offensire war ; that is, of entering upon an iurasiou 
of Russia or foreign territories, that the Diet hesitates, or, at least, 
ntparm a new deliberation prcrious to deciMnn. It is to he 
nowrbMl, that when WuTtomburg and Saxony hnvc adhered to 
dns resolntiuD — one of which Courts is closely allied to Russia 
by Diarriaf;r, and the otlior by policy — we may infer that no war 
B^D»t Russia is contemplated by these countries no more Lhan 
it is by Prussia. 

Thiu &r bad we ivritten, when, on the last day and tlic last 
bour of going to ]>rc»!t. the xure tidings are announced, that 
Bniia has onlcretl the wilbdran'al of her troops from the Princi- 
paBtiea. it is carefully announced at the same time, that Russia 
MftuM ibe demand of .\u»tria to erarnatc these same Principali- 
ties. This means that, in doing so, there is a wish to aroid sccui- 
iag to do so in accord with, or in obedience to, Austria. Unfor- 
touairly there is iiiautfest proof, that Austria was previously aware 
that RilHia would ovaeimte the Principalities ; for she had already 
negotialed with the Pone a treaty for her occupying tliesc pro- 
triatse*. Austria's occupation of the«e provinces is plainly a 
■aiianrw to prevent England and France passing the Danube, 
or following the Russians. It also prevents Turkey from pursuing 
the advantages of victory. If this be the case, and the best accre* 
ditt-d jouniiis uniTeri>ally announce it, it will be impossible to 
destroy tJlc j^i-rol opinion, that Austria has been in collnidon 
with Ruaata all alon^ ; and now, at the critical moment, comes 
ianmd to save thtJ Czar liolli in a po)itiraI and a di]iloroalic 
aame. Now it is that Marshal St. Amaud has changed his firm 
resolve, and no loager marches to Widdin, but hastens to A'ama, 
if he has a ideseope long-sighted enough, to contemplate the 
nifiing of the sieBC of Stiiatrin, and the withdrawal of the Rui^ians 
lo tbal bank of the Danube, where, by treaty with the Porte, 
Aoitria precludes I'ithcr France or Fugland from following. 

If tbia should he the case; if the Uusiuans n-ithfiraw from 
Stlistria, and fidi back, not only upon JaAsy, but behind the Pruth ; 
and if, according to tlie nouly-bruiled treaty, neither Turks, 
Engliib, nor Fri-och follow, of this we feel certain, that the universal 
opinion iu Knglaud will be, that we have been humbugged, and 

CUiai ilie entire of the expenses of the war will have gone for 
nothing. War has hitherto waited on diplomacy ; in that case it 
will b« completely stopped by diplomacy. Here let us notice a, 
uggeation put forward b_y one of our leading mii)u»tcria\ oTgaiffi. 


Tins i» for the French and English armies not to pass the 
Danube, not to invade Bessarabia or Southern Russia, but throw 
their whole force into the Criinoa for the purpose of destroying 
Schastopo]. In this plan of warfare there is the gretttest of ri«k, 
because, from the njoment that, in obedience to Austiia or to any ■ 
other inHiieucc, we refuse to cross the Danube into Bessarabia, ' 
lluftsia, feeling secure from that frontier, can collect the entire of 
her soutiieru military force in tlie Crimea; and wc may thus Knd 
150,OOU Itiissian soldiers, with pmportionid artillery, on tho 
heights landward of Seljaatopol. This would proliably be the 
result of Dur not invading Bessarabia and menaciug Odessa. 
Nicholas, from haired to Turkey, may hiRsIe and dolay, and refuse 
to give any satisfaction as to her liitorc purposes, or as to the future 
fate of the Principalities, and Llie guarantee of their iudependence. 
Wc need not say that the independence of the Principalities is no 
more advanced or served by an Austrian occupation. The effect 
will bu to beat down the liberal and national parly in thcKC pro- 
vinces. So much is this the rase, that wc must fear, as llie result 
of an Austrian occupation, that tlie Russian party in the Princi- 
palities will be greatly increased by it, for the people of the 
country prefer tlie Russians to the Austriana. bo that, instead of 
creating a national and independent party in Wallacliia and Mol- 
daria, we shall be driving the population of the country into the 
arms of Russia. 

The way to av(»d ihis, would bo lo prevent the Austrians 
from occupying cither Jaasy or Bucharest. Let that duty be 
left lo the Hospodars, the Govcmment, and the Slates. Let 
Austria occupy auy njiliiary po&iliun she way conitidcr requisite. 
But to allow her lo do more, and lo complelc whatever the Hus- 
uans may have left undone in the wav of consuming the food and 
stifling the liberty of Wallachia and Moldavia, wdl redound little 
to the honour of the allies, or conduce little to the future seltle- 
incnt of the Oanubian provinces. 

It is lo be hoped, that not only will the Austrians, if allowed 
to enter the Prineipalilies, he prevented from turning the occupa- 
tion to the purposes of political oppression, hut it is also to be 
hoped, nay, it is indispensable, thai the allied troops should pa» 
the Danube at once into Bessarabia and reduce ihu Ilusi^iau 
fortresses, especially that of Ismail on the northcnt banl* of the 
rirer. No treaty of peace, securing the free navigation of the 
Danube, can be of ai'ail as long as Russia is allowed to commaud 
that Plream by fortresses or baiterics. If she be left Bessarabia* 
it should be only uu the condition of having no fortresses on its 
bunks. When the Rhino was left as the French frontier of 
\Hllif on the condition of Hnningucn being rased, she was allowed 
peaceable possession of ilie territory to the Rliinu, but on the con- 
ditiuD that it should not be turned to oflensive purposes. In like 
manner Russia should he treated with rei^ard to the Danube. If 
she should bo left the Kilian branch of the Danube, that of the 
^uUneh should at least he taken from her guardianship, it being 
proved how grossly and selfishly she misused it, crco to the 





Kolcmn sliptilatioiis. Rut none of thcst* t1iinp;s can 
if the campaign is to stop here, and llie 100,000 
•nied troops are to march from Varna to the Danube, and ihra 
march back again. 

We shall now reap the bcnelit of hflving urged Prussia to take 
put in Uie quarrel and in Ihc conferences, insleud of sliultiiig her 
ont, and being from fir^t ti> last coiiteiileit with her neuiralily. 
Fof no*r, of course, instead of hostile camps and entrendied 
anoieN we Khull have uothJDi; but conferenciis and congres^scs. 
Ami in these vrc ehull l)c but In-o to tvro, or two to thix*e. Even 
if Ilu<Aia be excluded, or excludes herself, she has an intimate 
friend and allv in the Prussian uiinister to take part in any con- 
fenrnce, whilst Austria will be, as she has been all alnng, half and 
half. ETerything, however, M-ill depend nn the maintenance of a 
good understanding MJth Frauce, as these firnily united, and 
possessing the cttnfideucc of tlic Sulian, cau insist on the condi- 
tions whteli they think indispensable to prevent a recurrence of 
«bat has takeu place, and which has occasioQed thoiu so mueh 
trouble, effort, and expense. 

Tiie inie interests of France and England ou;!lit to be the 
genuine independence of the three Rreat Danubian provinces, 
free alike from Turkish interference, Russian dictation, or undue 
tiifluvDcc on the part of Austria. But as the three power'* differ 
about Greece, so they may differ ;\bout the Principaliucs, and if 
ibfv do so openly, liiey may produce the same resnlt. as that 
brought about in Greece, whose Court and dominunt parly gart: 
thrmselves up to Kussin, and put trust in the Czar ntoiK.'. Thf 
fir*t and great embarraRsraent tu U5 in that the tnily patriotic and 
liberal party in the prorinces will be inclined to put tnist in Kng- 
lond, and in England alone, as a country which possesses a con> 
afilntional gnTemmenl. Marshal St. Amaud, endowed with full 
pentcTs from Paris, is, we iVar, no gi-eat stickler for liberty, uo great 
lover Lif coustituUoual goremment. Austria is still less so. How, 
tben, ore ve to prevent the liberals of the Danube friini forming 
•Dd becoming a party, like th»t of Mavrocordato in Greece, stig- 
latizcd as an I*>n^lililL party. If this in Greece raised up dire 
lities and objections, what would it not do lu the Princtpali- 
? Moldavia border* the Austrian Buckowitie along an exten- 
siTe frontier, and so communicates with Gallicia. Its relations 
with Hungary, and especially witli the Slaron portion of it. Is 
exteanve* Moreover, Jassy is within a few hours' ride of 
le Prulh. Whatever kind of government is established in W'al- 
lochia nnd Moldavia, but especially in the latter province, must 
•«riously affect the Austrian and Russian provinces, that border 
on it. Wc cannot give both a purmaiiont cause of complaint, 
nor yet cim we give up Moldavia to the military and desimiic rule, 
which it pleases Austria as well as Russia to consider the only 
I sane and the only possible course. Yet it is the liberal party lhat( 
Is anti-Russian, and by sacrificing nnd turning our backs on that! 
liboial party, wc extinguish and help to crush the only tcalV^ 
mnti-Russian parir in the prorioce. 



In &!rvia the peasuiLs are ciitopletely emancipated. En Wal- 
tacLia and MoUlana they arc not. The two cKtnjmc* arc proditc- 
dve of iocouveDience. What we should look to, would be the 
deTelopracnt of a niiddlc and coiumi-iciul rlasH, wbic}i uaiiiiut fail 
to slait up as soou as the PriacipaUtics and the Danube are 
fully thrown open to the comnierce of ttie West. Xhei5« coun- 
tries, in fact, would become our granarv. Al present our capi- 
talists send millions out to R4issia, because the rc^'idar govern- 
uient tborv uusure the payment of debts, and obttcnance of 
contracts. Were the same security in the Danuhiau provinces, 
English capital would abound and fructify there, in preference 
to going to feed the Russian. 

And this n-ill form the Ime strength and independence of that 
great banier, the development of commercial wealth, luiuscs, 
shipping, and importance on its banks. A Trench writer, indeed, 
said, sonic tiuic Bincc, that the bc»t way of soUing tlic difficulty 
of the Danube and its mouth, would he to do there, vhnt n.ilions 
have doue for the UUiue, that is, eslabhsh the most industrious, 
must populous, and most wealthy of races at and around its 
mouth. In other words, malte a Flulland and IWIgiuro of the 
Dauubian provinces. The Dobrudscha is, in fact, a Zeehud. 
The mouth of the Danube resembles Uie muutli of llie Kliine, 
except that Uie couulry, on the banks of the former, is far more 
fertile, far more free from inundation, more cnlli%-aled, more 
healthy. The race and the freedom alone arc wanting. We ran, 
however, give to Uic Danubians tliat great boon which tlie Dutch 
procured for themselves. Wu may guarantee Uium iudepcudence 
and neutrality. We may taboo them ngiiinst untiqucrin;; anuicx, 
put them under the uuiicd protection of Kurope, and effectually 
bar the stream of conquest in that direction. 

lu such aims as these we should have to cantcnd not cmly 
agzuDst Russia, as well as against Prussia, her Sancho Panzain this 
expediliuu, but against .\ustria, whicli, liowever jealous of Russia, 
is still equally jealous of independent Slavonic Principalities, 
Russia has uever inlcnucddled more at Jassy and at Bucharest, 
than Austria has dune iu Servia; aud the greed of cxtc-nsion is 
not greater in one than it is in the other. But the Danubian 
Provinces, under the dominion of Austria, would be as mucli lost 
to them and their independence, as if they were possessed by 
Russia. By resisting Austria as u-ell a» Russia, we shnlj be able 
to plant a fresh course of civilisation and commercial prosperity 
in tlie suutii-east of Europe, which in a few years would bring 
those regions up to a level with the west, Wliereas, if we fail iu 
our duty and our inti^rest at the present conjuncture, centuries 
may elapse before tlie same result can be attajuud. 

Wo may feel damped in these hopes by tiio example of Greece, 
and its freedom. But Greece wants the elements of commercial 
and industrial prosperity, which are tbi; true impetuses for raisiug 
a stiite from degradation. The Danubian bos what the Greek 
wants, his fertile soil, and its ample produce. Political iostitu- 
tions musl bo based on commercial prosperity. Freedom, without 





wcaltli, is like Mcd strctm on the dcf^ert, tbrre is nouglit vrbcrein 
U c»a talcc root. Let cointucreial prospcrit)* grow there, am] we 
■hall oooo have frtt* cummnuilivs. If wo do cven'thing requisite 
•oopen the commerce, free the trade, dcvtiope tliu judustr^-, and 
protect the ri^ht of the Danubians, and of also tbc trade wUh 
Ibesn. wu Kball have 1»td the best foundatiou for tbeir {mlilical 
iiidrpcnd4'ncR and freedom. But, to attain lliis, tbcy niu»t not 
mDnin tbc slarc* of l]ie boyards, nor musi one of those tt-rritonal 
MBBtes n-liicb AiKtriit patroni7.>7s, be liie arbiter and nilec uf the 

The great fear is, that France may not agree wiiJi ns in lbi», 
SUe wants no mpplics of com, and the cx))ort« lees for peasants 
and BgncultaristK tban for the wealthy and cirilised. She may 
thinlt more of political combinations llian of commerciut relations 
in tbc BUcli Sea. France may U: mure nilbng to propitiate 
Aastrta thau wv arc, who liavu nothing to ask and nulliing tu gire. 
But, in Initli, France hat. beharod no well and so disinterestedly 
hiliierto, that there is no reaiion to entertain fears of the Emperor 
Napoleon's turning aside for petty motireH, or one-sided viewn. 

Greece will form another question. The Empcrorof .Austria, 
il is known, did not form a ]H>litical marriii^e m ben be esp<jused a 
BaTsriaii priuceKS. The Knifieror met the lady at Ischl. where 
be arrived quit4^ unexpectedly. His cboico was immediate. No 
slalcBnuui proposed it, no diplotnatit^t negotiated- Tlie heart, not 

C"cics, decided tbo young Kmperur; and thu circumAtaiico does 
crc^L Buc,aL tbe same gives tbe IIousc of Bavaria a 
friend in tbc Empuror. And the Bavarian family at Athens will 
be sujiporU-'d by all tbe inlliience of Austria, It would cf-rtainly 
be desin^o ta set Otbo nud the (jiiecn aside. But tbe prL-isump. 
tire heir to tbe Ga-ck throne, Adalbert, has adopted llie Ciruek 
TcTigion, and the substitution fur Othu would be a lesson at ouco 
to Hivsna and Greece, which would have a certain effect. Tbe 
pimi!>hmcoi thus woidd fall where it was deserved, and tbe Greek 
slJdemicn miglit be ^ariid their present humiliation. 

There rrmains the great question of Tnrliry, to which Kngland 
and France have constilnk-d lliumselves tbe protecting powers. 
Russian views towards Turkey aw too plain to bu huncefortb 
doubted. Ruftsian influence at Constanlinoplo must be hence- 
forth small; and the old Turkish retrograde party, within and 
without the Divan, bare, we trust, received their death-blow. 
The Sultan will now get tbc best of counsel and the best of aid 
towud!! the organisation of bis army, his navy, and hi» internal 
^■".ministration. Since Russia ceases to be the immediate, the 
reatcning, the cicmal foe of Turkey ; for tbo treaties which 
most coiDD after tbe war must finally guarantee her from attacks, 
it will be in the power of the Turkish government to employ 
Christians both in the army and nary, as well as in civil nfGces. 
The Christians must be taught that tlieir pro.sp«cts are those of 
the empire, then there vrill bo no intolerance, no subjection of 
A creeds. And if fanaticism dies, or eatmnt be indulgid, then will 
■ arise amalgaroatiou and good fcllowshipf with the (aic liva^t^ 



between' the creeds, which can be carried on by learning and 
good sense, and amidst cirilisation. What creed vill go to 
ibe wall, and be lost in such a pacific encounter, ire need not 
proclaim, although we feel pretty certain, that Mahometanism will 
disappear gradually. 

The consequences to Turkey, however, of a treaty concluded 
between all the powers for ber protection, either with the sanction 
of Russia, or without its adhereuce, are more vast than could here 
be enumerated or entered upon. We have only here to express 
regret, that the war has not been prosecuted with more alacrity, 
purpose, and success. More efficient aid given to the enemies of 
the Russians in Armenia and the Caucasus, would by this time 
have driven the troops of the Czar from Georgia, and confined his 
empire to the north of that great range of mountains. The fear 
now is, that in any treaty concluded in Europe, the Asiatic con- 
fines of either empire will be passed over in silence ; and that 
Russia, prohibited from conquest on the Danube or the Bos- 
phorus, may turn her whole efforts to both sides of the Caspian. 

We admit, however, that we must not ask too much ; and that 
we cannot expect to have France and Austria for allies in Asiatic 
wars. In that quarter of the globe we are very well able to take 
care of ourselves. As to Russia seriously menacing India, we 
have the best authority for knowing that such fears are idle. And 
if Persia be the object of Russia's ambition, this is a portion of 
Asia bordering, upon Turkey, the independence of which con- 
cerns the other allies of the Sultan quite as much as it does 

The foregoing remarks, it will be seen, were made before the 
receipt of the recent news of the retreat of the whole Russian 
army, and the declaration of the intention of Russia to retire from 
the Principalities out of *' high consideration" (according to the 
Russian reply to the message fiom Vienna) for Austria. 



a ^fllc of OUT (QbJit ^imt. 

By Shirley Brooks^ 
ACTBoa or "Misi TioLCT AND HKB omu." 




Tt U proljable that when lleywood opened the conversation 
vitb Mr. Paul Chcqucrbpiit, which concluded iu the disastrous 
Ruuiner recorded iu our la-<t chai)ler, the priest had not arranged 
any specific plnn for rendering that excitable .voung gentleman 
useful in the prosccntion of certain designs Hcywood had in vicv, 
and which by no mcniiB tended towards the comfort of Hernard 
Carlyon. llut Faul tiiibuKomcd liinisolf with so much fHciWty, mid 
indicated with *o much unconscious precision the chord which 
required touching, that before iJeywood resolved to take him 
home to St. Alban's PhicCj he had quite detenmncd what work 
b« vrontd set him to do. And the following morning, while 
tempting Paul's not over eager appetite with divers stimulating 
ddieacies, of which the priest was an exceedingly good judge, he 
broke ground without mucli prelimiuary. 

" Rrrcrting to onr little talk Inst night, J[r. Chcquerhcnt," 
■aid the priest, busying himself with some of the breakfast 
amngemeDtSj in order to let Paul get over any embarrassment 
which recollections might occasion, " I suppose that you and 
Bernard Carlyon are intimate friends, aud iu one another's con- 

" Why no," said Paul, " I can't say that. It seems odd that we 
are not more intimate, all things considered ; hut Carlyon had 
always a sort of myster}' about him, or I fancied bo, nud you 
might go on telling htm tfoitr history, and your troubles, and your 
lore afTairn, and »ll the rest of it, fur hours f*"'* ^c would listen, 
and give you advice if you wanted it, but he never told tfim any- 
thing in return." 

" 'I'ticre might have been good reasons for that," said lleywood, 

•* I >€ thought so too," said Jfr. Clicquerbcnt, "at times. But, 
if there Is anything wrong, he has managed to keep it very close; 
and you sec he gets into tir»t-mte society, and is asked to stay at 
great people's housea, and aho^'eth<-r one doe< not know wU&t to 

VOL. xrxnr. 



think of him. But whnt you told me last night, and vhich seems 
like a dream to-dny, hns opened my eyes in n great measure." 

" And do you intend to make any use of your enlightenment ?** 
said liey wood. " Here, let me give you some hot cott'cc — try that 
devil— or do you propose to resign to him a young lady who, it 
appears to mc, is almovt worth looking aAcr, unless you have 
other vieirs," 

"What I am gomg to tell you is in perfect confitTcncc, Jlr. 
Heywood. I have formed a great rci^pect for you, nnd I shall be 
very glad of your advice. I — yon vould not perhaps hcUevc it — 
but my afTcction for that young lady is very warm and very sincere, 
and I received a great shock in learning that she was Lord Rook> 
bury's daughter, and a much greater one in finding that she is 

" Two circumstances, my dear friend, irhieli one would have 
supposed were in your favour. Would you have pieferrcd her 
reuiaiuing an actress^ and being eoudcmncd all her life to paint 
her face, and exhibit her ancles, for the delcctatiou of any snob 
who could find sixpence to pay half-price to a gailer\- ?" 

"That a one way of putting it/' said Paul, ^iseoDtentedty. 
"An artist's life—" 

" My dear Chcqurrhent, don't talk nonxensc. The way I have 
put it is the way society puts it, behind the backs of nrtifit!i, as you 
call them. Is that the life you would select for a ^rl whom you 
cared about?" 

Paul rcmcnihcred many pleasant days which he had spent with 
Angela while she was fulftlling her engagements, and he grum- 
blinjjly admitted that the stage Iiad its humiliations, hut also its tii- 
umplis. Tlie priest was ubslinafe, and would not CTcn allow that 
the triumphs were worth having, the hij^hesl being the throwing an 
entire theatre into a paroxysm of adniimtion, which, from an igno- 
rant mob, whereof the pit and gallery fonncd the overwhelming 
majority, was no compliment to an educated peraou. 

" But," he said, " we are talking uselessly, because that part of 
the business is settled without us ; and Lndy Anna Rookton is not 
lilicly to have to curtsey to the plebeians in return for another 
* reception ' — is not that the word ? Uo vou know when she leaves 

"No," said Pauh "That reminds me, though. A very good 
thought. I '11 go and see her this very morning. Twelve o'clock, 
bv Jove : how late wc are !" 

- ■ 

" You slept soundly," said Ileywood, " nnd I thonght it might 
do you no harm to have your sleep out. Pooh, pooh, don't look 
discomposed — the cscitcmcnt of our conversation would have bccu 
enough to overset you, even if you had drunk nothing. I have 
seen a man talk himsetf into intoxication, over water. Bnt what 
good do you propose to do by seeing Jliss Livingstone?" 

•' \\'ell*/* said Paol, "I should like to come to an Hndcr^tniidiiig 
with her. To tell yon tlie truth, we have hceu so intimate for a 
very long time, that I think she is using me coufoundcdly tQ in 
encoriTaging any one else's attentions." 






** Xs it fair to nslc jrou whether vou evur aane lo an nndcntatid- 
tup before, &nd whcuahr Mnsirhat vouHrcplenscdtocallanHrtist?'* 
■id Um priest, uialiciouslT. "Or, iu pjjiin English, did yon cTcr 
ebU her, or eveu admit to vourscif thiit ^'oii IntuudtHl to marrv her? 
Come," he added, Imighing;, ''vou arc in the confeaaional." 

"If vou put it Bu" siiid Paul, " I certaiuij hare no right to sar 
Uiat I ever exactly proposed to her. Bnt, bless my sou), I wa"a 
ahtnrs in her oompaQv ; I hnvc written her heaps of letters, Tve got 
woe of her h;iir in mj puntu iiurc — uo, it is in my other one — ) have 
taken her out to hundreds of dinners, and I believe that I should 
lukre a good action for breach of promise agninat her." 

" I ahould like to have brought up all that evidence against yon, 
if the eaae bad hccii the other way. and yon had deserted her. 
I1o«r you vould have thrown up youi- head, and bleated your soul 
then, and wuDdcrod, by Jove! ivhnt sucti girls were made of to 
fancy that because a ^entlcmnn paid tlicm some attention, tlicy 
«ere to be a dog on him for life, and all thnt. 1 know you young 
CeUmra," said Ueywood. "I do nut believe that you can a:iy, 
hooestly, that you ever contemplated introdudng that youu^ lady 
to your guardian, or to your rich relatioua, the proud good old 
■nnts in particular — in fact, you were very happy to flirt about 
villi n prrtty and amut^jiig companion, but you thought »s much 
id mamuge as 1 do — I, a priest of Rome. Well, she in above lliat 
aort of thing now, and so you may go and look out for somebody 
■lac ; there i^ plenty af other young ladies wiio like champagne and 
ice pudding." 

Pxut't cooacicnce told hira ITcywood spoke the tn«!i, but, 
(with our tuual, wisdom) he instantly bejpui to »eek tu convince 
hinuelf that aa he bad been sincerely attached to Angela, he 
daoold have proposed one day or another, and thnt he wa« therefore 
iB-treatod, and be mumbled something of the kind, which made 
tbe prteA Laugh. 

*' Corac, my dear friend," he said, " there is no use in self-decep- 
ttoo. 1 know that you like her very much, and if I were to si\y 
that I know she is very fond of you,I should only say what 1 have 
RBCOO to beheve." 

" Yam know that?" said Paul, colouiiog up to the routs of his 
^air with pleasure. 

" I do not speak lightly on sueh matters," said Ileywood, gravely. 
"I retain- mmeient respect for my vocation not to spurt with 
affair* invoU-ing humnii happiness or misery." And if bo could 
aot repress a sort of smile as he spoke, he concealed it trotu Paul 
by fiulahinf; his sentence iH-hind the newspaper. 

" Then, by Jove,"' said Mr. Chcquerbcnt, " mv case is not so bad 

" liiMv do you mean, my dear sir?" said Hcywood, earnestly. 
" If yuti imagine that you are at all iu a favourable position in re- 
^■ni Ui )Iias Livin^tunc, the sooner you diaabusc yourself af &uch 
sn imprtfiiion the better. Vou have had many years of chances 
with her, but you have lost them alt" 

*• Yes," sata Van), "hut who ttos to know tliat ihc would \ic 

c 'I 



citiimed by 

Tic stoppetJ, with some discrtnipflsure, just then 



remembering that his observntioa slightly ciasbed with his previous 
professions. The priest nodded, to hIiow tlmt he saw the blot, but 
was not going to hit it, and Paul added. " Anv how, if she cares 
about me, that is something gained, surely." 

" With Miss lanngstone of the Polyhymnia, a good deal, no 
doubt; with Lady Anna Kookton, of Rookwood, not much. You 
have lost her, my youug friend, and I tell you so, plainly. You 
may take it from me, but if you prefer hearing it from "Miss 
Augela's own lips, put on your hoots, and take a cab in the Hny- 
markct. I will wait here tilt you return and inform me that tihe 
has given yon a dismissal.'* 

Mr. Paul Chequerbent looked TCry blanl: indeed at tins intima- 
tion, and began to break up his egg shells, very vindictively, into 
extreme sraallness, making curious faces all the time. 

" Why," he suddculy exclaimed, after a loug pause, during which 
Heywood rend very quietly, " you asked mo if I were going to 
resign her without an effort ? That meaut that you thought I had 
some chance with her.'' 

"And in reply," snid Mr. Heywood, "you gave me n sort of 
deceptive answer, intended to make nic believe that you und she 
were in a dificrcut rclntlou from thnt iu uhich I knov you to lie. 
Of course, I have no right to intrude upon your secrets, but no 
man likes to be thought a dupe, and I have only cndeavoure<l to 
show yon thnt 1 perfectly understand your position.^ And he re- 
sumed liis paper. 

"I declare to you," said Paul, quite piteously, "that I had no 
intention of dccei^'ing yon, or of cxiiding any question. On the 
contrary, I felt quite happy to tliiuk that you were inclined to 
interest yourself iu my affairs, and I am very sorry you should 
misuuderstAnd me." And lie spoke in all sincerity this time. 

Heywood, who deemed that he had now asserted his superiontv 
suBicientty, turned upon him with the most pleasant smile. 

"Don't mistake me," he said, "for a moment. If I felt hurt, 
it »as that I had not succeeded iu making you think me worthy 
your confidence. 1 should he glad, very glad, to promote your fl 
welfare; and have reasons for being interested iu you, of which ™ 
we need not talk now. But if I interfere, it must be ou the con- 
dition that you are either entirely guided hy my advice, or that 
you i(j«t it altogether. I should not interpose if I did not believe 
that 1 could be of material service." 

"Anything in the world thnt you can point out/' said Paul 
earnestly, "I will try to do. Can I say fairer?" 

" I wish you could not, in that colloeation," said the priest, "for 
it is particularly bad ^English. Never mind my saying that kind 
of thiug," be added, Uugliiug, "it is my way. Well, I am glad 
that you have so much conlidcncc in tuy wish to serve you. And 
now answer a question or two which bear upon the business, 
though you may uot sec that thcv do. You arc still, X believe, in 
the office of Molesworth and PeukridgO!"' 

"M. and P. hare still that honour," said FauL 




"But if 1 unOerstood Carlrou aright, rou do not attend ranch 
to buincss ; in fact rou ilo not kuov niucb abont it ? " 

"It w*s very good of him to say thnt," said Paul, augrilv. "If 
I give my mind to work. I rather beliere I can master it aH welt as 
■eoie other people 'who think themselves deuced clever, but who 
dooH make a* many hits as they fancy, I can tell them. Why, it 
wu only hut Monday I went down the lane and attended a Miim- 
■ooi before old Pollock," (Mr. Chequerbcnt adopted the craccful 
Ibnn in which the junior members of a profession like to aliudu to 
its bnuls), "aud I smashed Fossel and Pobb's managing man; 
•miuhed him utterly, sir, aud had it all my own wny. Pollock 
hniLAc'ir told him he hadit't a leg to stand on." 

" Take my adnce, and give your mind to work for the present," 
i&mI Ueywood impressively; "and it is possible that your rival 
mar be reduced to the condition described by the Lord Chief 

" Ai 1 laid/' responded Paul, " you luve onJy to give me an 
mgtmda, aa vb call it, and I will be all obedience." For he bad 
rapidly aeqnircd a great and va^ue reverence of Hcywood ; and 
Una bad been increased since Paul hnd learned that he was a 
Grtfaoltc priest. He had some notion, I tliink, that tlie thunders 
of tbc Vatican, of which he had heard, hut had a somewhat in- 
definite idea, were about to be set rolUng for his espccinl benefit. 

" Then 1 gather that you do attend to business," said the priest. 
"Are yoa much in communication with your employer?" 

"Tbo old Mule? Well, no, not more than 1 cim help," said 
Paul, far he is a cantankerous kind of i>nrty, and thinks, like Sir 
Peter Tcaxle, that it is a wicked world, and the fewer people we 
praise the better." 

'* And rou like to be praised ? " asked the priest, looking full 

JDtO Pnul'ii &tce. 

" One likci tu be appreciated, at any rate," said Pnul ; " and it is 
DOC in the olil Mole's way to say much that is plca^nt. Uut I 
know all that lie is about, bccnuse I copy a good mauy of the 
entries oat of his attendance-book into the bills of costs." 

•*AJiI" said Hcywood, "do I understand that term rightly? 
Tfce attendance-book is the record of what is done for clients." 

*' Not qnite tlint," said Paul, delighted to be able tu impart some 
information. "It is the book in which Molc»worth put.i down, 
every day, a note as to whom he bus seen, what letters he has 
wiitten, and so forth, to be charged against the client." 

" Bnt he would put down nothing that all the cstablisbraent 
might not read, I suppofic?'^ said Ileywood, carelessly. 

" AVhr," said Paul, "in strictness he ought not ; nnd his course 
ii dectdcijtv irregular aud dangerous, m I often tell him. Dut he 
bit of making notes of explanations, nnd reasons, nnd 
to be remembered in future, which, of course, do not go 
into the bills — 1 should rather say not, or some people's weak 
minds would be astonished — but there they arc. However, he has 
sense, and he is very particular about having thU booV. 
brought bnck to hiai the aioiaeut tre iiarc done with it *, and t\ve 
tiJJ oaej Me ktx-ps JtK-kvti up." 

2S ASP£K COratT. 

" All, in tin boxes with staring labdb. I know them." 
"Yes : but the bos in question is kept locked up in our strong 
room," said PauL 

*'Oh," said t^e priest, nnconcemedly ; "then I suppose diere 
would be a difficulty in your looking back to any particular entry 
in one of these books ? " 

"A difficulty? Well, yes," said Paul, ''because it would seem 
queer for me to be lookuig into a box like that. The odier clerk* 
might make observations ; and I have more thsm. one enemy who 
might take an opportunity of mentioning it to Molesworth.'' 

" Carlyon's ingenuity, I suppose, would not luive been so soon 
at fault," said Heywood. 

" When I say that I do not see," said Paul, immediately brought 
up to the collar by this reminder, " I mean that I do not see at the 
moment. Of course the t^ing can be done.'* 

" Well," said Heywood, " it is very desirable for your interests, 
as well as those of a certain young lady, that I should see a record 
of some transactions that took place in the course of a period 
which I can point out ; and if Mr. Molesworth has given any of 
tfa^e notes, and explanations, and reasons, so much the better." 
" And yon desire me to copy them out for yon ? " said Paul. 
" I had no idea of asking you to undertake that labour,*' said 
Heywood. " My notion was that if I could see them — an hour 
would answer my purpose — ^the object would be gained.** 

"You want me," said Paul, slowly and dubiously, "to get a 
book out (^M. and F's. strong room, aud bring it to vou to look 

" Do not put it in that way, if you please, Mr. Chequerbent,** 
said the priest, with a show of displeasure. " I do not want it ; I 
ha%'e no concern in the matter, I supposed myself to be endea- 
vouring to sen'e you; and if you think that I am not qualified to 
do so, pray let us drop the subject. It is not to be erpected that 
I should feel more strongly for Miss Liiingatonethan-a gentleman 
does who professes to love her." 

"Don't be displeased," said Paul, "but just consider my posi- 
tion. You see I am, as an articled clerk, a sort of confidential 
man ; and the thing is rather a queer one to do." 

" Don't do it," said Heywood, " and there 's an end. Only, as 
you have very properly, and I may say in a way which increases 
my respect for your intellect, referred to your relation with your 
employer, I may remind you that you are bound to take a lai^e 
view of your responsibiUties. Remember that in attaching your- 
self to Mr. Molesworth, yon merely complied with one of the 
forms necessary to bring you into that great system of equity 
which is represented by law ; and that you are in effect a minisfe«r 
of justice. How tax you have a right, simply from private feeling- 
towards Mr. Molesworth, to abstain from any course which wiU 
promote the justice you hare bound yourself to forward, is « 
matter for your own consideration." 

This piece of sophistry was exactly caleolated to {dease Paul, 
mho immediat^y looked profound, and tried to catch the tone of 
^e other. 




•Tb»t, I allow," said Paul, "is a view to rrhich I liare Dot, 
P«)k«|M, given ■ufficiciit attentiou. Allow me n few monu'iitB." 
Aad he aificcted to be deep in tbouglit. " Vcs,** lie soid^ " I am 
pnpHTcd to admit that iberc is much ia irhat rou say, aud cer* 
tat&ly I aiu not the penoti to «briuk frutn rcsponsibitity. Yob 
fad certmia timt tlie Interests of Alias Liringstone are introlrcd in 
Ae eoane jtni propose." 

Most ocitniuly," said Heywood. 

Then by Jove it ')> douc, &ir," said Paul, rcliipBiiig into colloqui- 

''Perhaps I had better not ask hoir you mean to maDage," aaid 

" Jiwt »o," said Paul. " Lcftvc it to me. But T sliould like 
Angela to know that I am eiif^ised m trying to serve her." 

"If yon will accept my advirc, you will nbstain from saying 
anything to her, or to anybody else, until the senice is accom- 
plished. Remember, vroincu xcldom giru you credit for your 
mtcntioDBt if you fail. Success is n iroman's idnl." 

"Bat in the words of Mrs. MacWth," Paul, "*I hare 
screwed my courage to the stickiu;; pincc/ and .-ihnll nut fail. 
And now— who is the party whose business T am to refer to''" 

" It kceme to mc," said the priest, " that it mny be couTeoient 
and ereu advautugeuus htircafter, should you bo unable to charge 
Tounclf with hairing, to your knot^edgc, given anv information on 
tfao subject. There may be no re:\sou for such forethought, but 
TOB are ■ shrewd, keeu-sighted man, aud need not to be told that 
a good player never throws away a chauce." 

"Quite right/' said Paul. "You are the sort of person with 
vbom I Uke to work. But how the deuce can I get you the in- 
formation, without kuouiug that I have done it J" 

*' If jou hring me the book containing the record of Mr. Moles- 
woith^ buiucss transactions during last year, that will do. I 
•hoQ tamit find out what I want tu kuow, and you wilt liere»ftrr 
be able to sny with a safe conscience that you never heard the 
BftRM of Che penous in question from my lips." 

" It shall be douc, luid to>ntght/' said Paul. 

" To-night !" s-iid the priest to himself; " I thought that was hit 
idea. So be it," he added. *' What, are you going ? Take some 
Cognac before yuu go." 

*' A hair of the dog tImt bit me ?" said Chequerbeut facetiously. 

"No, sir," said Ilcywood, "of tw relation to that brown beast. 
Tlaa iM a Uqueur uf a thousand. * Fortress' brandy, sir i No thank 
yoo. ' We ore spirits of another sort.* Good bye. I am always 
bcre, miud, after ten at night." 

"Some time after ten to-niglit c?ipcct me," siud Paul, "and 
thanks for your hospitality.'* 

" Tlu! TOW of my order," said the pric«t, crossing his arms with 
mock grarity. 

Tlinl dayMr. Cbequerbcnt went to hit business in a curious 
state of miud, and tlie peculiar locality uf the office seemed to 
vcar a new pbaae for him. He hold a different relation viCb^liM 

principnl to tlmt which he Tind prcrioiisly bomc. Probnblr, 
nltliOUgU bis iutellect was none of the strongest, and although the 
loss of the rHCiilty uf reasoning uccuratclr often accumpanies the 
lofts of the habit of sclf-cnnirol, he could not entirely close his 
eves to the fact that he had engaged to do a vi'ong thing — at all 
events a thine that required a gre;it deal of justili cation, and one 
which it would not do to describe baldly, and ia the terms by 
which cold third pnrties wonld characterize it. Strictly speaking, 
he nas going to avail himself of his situation, in order to place 
some of his employer's secrets in the possession of a stranger. 
So depicted, the act looked very much like a piece of mscality, 
and 80, bad onr Paul's mind been in a healthy state, he would have 
viewed it. But he bad always been very self-iadulgeul, very 
reckless and shifty, and of late he had been soured by the inevi- 
table consequences of his follies, nud wns disposed, instead of 
tiiking advantage of the lesson, to regard society as his enemy, 
and to look nt its rcgulntiona with some contempt. Cletirly the 
orthodox theory, which apprisCti us that all our misfurtuuee arc for 
our good, bad not yet hecn vindicated iu Paul's ease — be was 
decidedly the worse for what he had undergone. 

As it happened, too, he was very bite at the office ou a day when 
Jlr. Molesworth Imd wanted him. For a furtnlght, they bad 
never spoken, hut this moruiiig cliance induced Molesworth to 
enquire four yr five times for in:. Ciitqucrbent, and to be as often 
ap|irised that he had not yet arnvcd. When Paul did abow 
liimself, ^rr. Moleswortb's observations were not of a pleasing 
character, and bis sarcastic rccomnicudation to Paul to look out 
for some other voeation, for be would never be worth a farthing as 
a Inwyer, did not tend to dimiuisU Mr. Chequerbcnt's animowty 
against bis employer. 

"A dishonest old humbug,'' he observed, on departing. ** He 
can say that to me now, having racked my tliree hundred guineas 
premium. I suppose lie would not return any of that, as compea- 
sation for not qualifying rac for my profession. Eh? O! Of course. 
That did not occur to the ancient miscrcHut.'' And going to his 
dctk, he recorded a vow of vengeance in his pocket book, aud felt 
calmer after that amiable entry. 

Tho day went very slowly — dragging itself past rather than 
passing — lint at length six o'cliick arrived — and the various clerks 
de|)firted, as did their employer. Paul had been considering 
different \)lmi& fur ctTecting his object, and that upon which be had 
derided was to return late, under pretext of wanting some papers 
let\ in bis desk, aud so to uiaUe his way to the strong room iti which 
Molcsworth kept the box eoulaiiiingtbe book desired by Hey wood. 
The offices of Messrs. Tllolejtworth and Pcukridge were in TliC rear 
of tliuliuusc, which looked upoutliCbtreet,und there was a side door, 
through which inferior clienU, clerks, and others were admitted 
during the day. But the more aristocratic employci-s of the firm 
ivcre received by u porter at the door of the house itself. Uu 
the departure of the clerks the side door was barred and bolted, 
and the only access to the ofBcc was through the bouse. Paul's 





Snt idcA WM to linger last, and then to ncliicTc In'i purpose, but 
ht «u fo much iu the habit of anticipating the hour of leaving, 
ud, like Charles Lanib^ of atoning for coming )ate by going away 
tu\y, that he feared to excite suspicion bj departing from hu 
pnctioG. So he went away as usual, rather before thau after the 
others. It was unlucky for liim that he did so. 

Paul got rid of the next three hours as best he might; he went 
to dine, but had no a])|K'tite for dinner, and rather esclicwod 
Kqnids, from a certain nennv that he might require all his sclf- 
po*sc*sioii. And he was unable to fix his mind to a uewspapeff 
and yet, by what he regarded as an absurd fatality, his eye iucea- 
taotlr li(,'hted upon accounts of hiir^laricD, and of terrible acci- 
denU hujJi'eniiig tu the unfortunate criminals, some falling oS' 
pan^icts, others being shot, and so forth. And tliough not super- 
stitioQs, be could not help repeating to himself that perhaps these 
vcre warnii^^ to him^ and theu he angrily discarded such ideas as 
unworthy of au enlightened man. And at last the time came at 
«hicli he had determined to make his attempt. 

He kuev that there would be no one iu the house, except the 
porter, and with this official he had always bceu on very excellent 
tcnas, cast uff clothes, ci^arsj and other sniull preseutson the part 
of Paul, having estublishei] a good uuderstandiug between them. 
And he had planned that lie would send out this man, whose name 
VB* Galtuoj to fetch him some spirits, au errand at which the 
porter was not entirely a novice, and during his absence, Paul 
Wiluid nunuouut the only ]-e«l difficulty in his way, that of obtaining 
from Molesworth's room tlie key of the box. llis entering that 
room might surprise Gallon, or the latter might persist in attend- 
ing turn with a light, aud so prevent his taking away the key ; but, 
that obtained, his proceedings in the distant office, beyond winch 
was the strong room, would be unobserved. 

Hut AS he was about to knock, the street door gare way before 
his hand. It had been lett unclosed. Paul speculated for a 
minute as to whether this were by nccidcnt or design. If (hdton 
had stolen out on some errand of his own, there was nobody in 
the place, and the opportunity was very favourable. He slipped 
quietly in, closed the door, and listened. There was no sound of 
any kind. A small lamp, which usually stood on a bracket in the 
hall had become extinguished, hut Paul felt that it was iu its place, 
and he lit it from a D»itclibo\ with wliich he had taken the prccau- 
tiou to provide himself. Then, taking the lamp, he made his way 
iioietly to Mr. Molesworth's room. The dour was closed, but this 
%ras usually the case, and the key, though seldom removoil, was 
generally turned. Paul rememlicred this, applauded himself for 
recoUccting it, imd tried the ki\v, but the door was unlocked. If 
Uolesworth were there i jtut, looking through the keyliole, he saw 
that there was no Ught inside, lie entered the room, and went at 
once to a glass-case, within which Molcsworth was accustomed to 
place the bunch of keys that opened the boxes in the strong-room. 
There was no particular precaution used in regard to them, wj 
clerk could hjar^i/aJ rAcw on DsJkiUjf /or tliem, aud giv\ng\i. 

K cbrk 



Tint Molcinrortli liked to sec them througl] the glass of hh ciise. 
There they were. The door of the glass-cnsc creaked, and Pruil was 
cnrngcd with it, Had bclicvt'd, like Plato, in the ioberent maliguity 
of matter, bat he captured the keys. 

ThcQj turning to |;o, ho looked roaod in the direction of Mr. 
Molcswortli's usual scat. This was a comfortable high-backed arm- 
chair. It was drawn away from its place at the table, and in it 
sat, or rather reclined, a man. 

Paul gave a great start, but neither dropped hia lamp, nor 
uttered a urj-. A singular presence of mind wcracd to come to his 
aid, and he dchbcratoly raised the light and inspected the stranger. 
He inatuuUy made out, first, that the latter was a rough -looking 
fellow in a fustian jacket, and a red night cap, and, secondly, that 
he was fast asleep. 

** I have it," said Paul, "a house-breaker! What a scoundrel I 
he has let himself in, nmrdcred Galton, and broken into Moles- 
worth's wine closet. Uaving drunk himself stupid he has wan- 
dered here, nud gone to sluep. Hy coming is moat providential. 
1 will make him safe.'* 

And, forgetful for the moment of lua own business there, he 
knelt down, and creeping tlose to the man, took ont a large hand- 
kerchief, and scoured the Irg of the latter very lijjhtly to that of 
the arm-chair. The man grunted a litUc, but did not awake. 
Panl then stole out, greatly dated at bis stratagem, closed the 
door and turned the key. 

" Now," he said, " 1 will go and look for the bodv of the unhappy 

But at that instant he recollected his own errand, and resolved 
to perform it. The scrrice he was going to achiere rendered such 
a matter a mere trifle in his ctcs, and he scarcely trod more lightly 
than usual as be hnstoued along the passages which led to the 
distant office. 

The strong room, which was simply a fire-proof chamber with 
an iron door, contained, in addition to more raluable documents, 
certain books of accounts, in daily use. These being wanted dnring 
the entire day, the clerk wlio first arrived in the morning usually 
took them ont, and the key of the room was therefore merely 
concealed in a place where no one who had no business to know 
anything about it would tbink of looking for it. Paul, well ao- 
quaintcd with the, went tn it at once. The key was not 
there. Tiie door of the strong room was safely closed. 

'* That seonndrcl has taken it," said Panl. " Perhai»s he put 
Gnhon on the fire, and by torture compelled him to reveal tlie 

Elace where it was bidden." And, arming himself with a rery 
cavy nder, he went back, opened Mohraworth's door quietly, and 
found Ills prisoner just as lie had left him. And, tndy enough, 
there lay the strong-room key ou the table. Paul cou'^ldcrcU lor 
a moment whether he oiight not to demolish the miscreant at 
race, but he witlilield his blow, from a mixture of feeling* of which 
humanity may fairly be set down as the chief. 
'"I/e cnnaot escape/' said Paul, " let us leave him to the hang- 


mm.'' And once more he hurried back to the office, mid, settiug 
down bia lamp, nppKed thr kcj to the centre of the door. Four 
hrgc bolts -wen let in motiou by the nction^ but they were well 
oiM, and sUd bnck with httlc noise. 

It WAS very little, but it was immediately followed by u hideous 
nd mcniuau^ yell. 

Paal turned very pale, and certain ghaAtily terrors came upon 
lum. He could not exactly any that he believed iu evil spirits, but 
Tpry few mcu, I bcUeve, would care, when alone and at night, 
and abottt to commit an ofTencc, to declare that such things did 
not exist ; aud nhatever belief Paul uiny have had upon the 
■abject Kuddtudy and lunrncritarily revived. But the fttraii^ and 
terrible uoub ceatcd ; and Paul, aftiiT an instant or two of desita- 
tioB, half pearoaded himiu'lf that tlie whutu affair hud been an 
offort of thic excited imajpnation. 

He pulled open the iron door. Two flaming eyes, on a level 
vith his own, met hiB gaze. The next moment he wra da-slicd 
vioicntly to the ground, nnd, thongh half »tunned hy the blow, he 
was OMMcious for a mumeut uf iiitt;Qse pain. The faufrs of the 
demon, or whatever it was, hail tixt>d in his .shoulder, and his arm 
wai agocuxingly laceratcfl. Hot breath was upon his face; the eyes 
of fire vere dose upon hia, and he fatuted. 

AsoTirta anr tor kEiVAia caklvoji. 

Tilt Minister, Selwyn, was at bis desk of work, reading letters by 
ibc ikound, and minuting upon each some tiircc or four wurd^^, to 
be expanded into offieial rcplion hy hit; flulHirdiuntcs. Each tetter, 
ut tiic Btartbui; rate at which practice and keenness enabled liim 
tu pluck out tbe heart of its mystery, oecnpied him on tlic average 
two miuutes — allow another minute for cousiderHtion of the answer 
and fur marking down the hieroglyphics nn materials for it, and 
this railroad process gave but twenty letters to the hour. Yet people 
compUin that episties of ei({ht sides of small writing, setting 
fiarth opiniona upon matters of Governtnect, and advice for the 
eoidaoce of the Admiaistration, receive curt replies, or mere ac- 
tnowledgiueuts from a Secretary of State. When her Miijesty 
engages one with hs many eves as Argus, with sa many hands as 
Briareus, and with a brua wnosc Dual Function is multiplied hy 

\j, to match hts other eudowmeuts, people who pester him may 
a quarter of their absurdities duly noticed. 

Lurd Uookbury demanded audiinue, aud ohtaine<l it, for the 
virtuous Selwyn was always glad to receive his evil old friend aud 

'*l)o jrou mean that you actually read that rubbish?" aud the 

art, pointiug with his ivory headed cane at the heap q( \c\.lien \A 




" Some of it," said the Minister, " but it will not prevent bit" 
listening to you. Havc rou brotiglit me some news?" 

" I waut you to leare oif saving the country for a couple of 
hours, and take a drive with me, Selwyn. There now, don't look 
as if you thought I was mad, and don't tell me that you cannot be 
spared, hccnuse I liavc seen all this sort of thing for years. Tlie 
constitution will be all right to-morrow, even if you do play truant 
to-dny. I iim not a deputation, you know, bo you need not look 
awfully at lue." 

" No, but I expect three deputations in the course of the next 

"Lot your clerks sec them. Yon men make yourselves toO' 
common, gmnting audiences to any batcK of nobodies who in- 
trude their twaddle upou you for the sake of getting themselves 
noticed in the newspapers. I met a prorincial Town Clerk in a 
rnitway the other day, and he told us that he had been talking to 
you, and that he had induced you to t^ive np the District Depopu- 
lation Bill. I told him I did not believe it, so he sulked and was 
silent, which made the rest of the journey more comfortable." 

" 1 know the mna. We had decideil on giving up the bill a week 
before I ever heard of him, but he has a good deal of intluence in 
his lucidity, and so — " said Selwyn, stopping, with a sort of de- 
precatory half smile. 

" And so you let him think that his logic had converted you, eh, 
Frank. Dear mc," said the Earl, " only to think that such «'ickcd- 
uess sliould exist. But come ont, will you, and leave word for the 
deputations that you are scut for to Windsor.'' 

"Tlicy will see iu io-morrow*s 'Court Circular* that I have not 
been there," said Selywn, humoring his lordslup's irregular sug- 

*'And what's the 'Court Circular* for, if it docs not tell lies 
to suit a Minister's convenience?" said the Karl. "Tell yonug 
Cnrlyon to send the proper paragrnph. By the way, how does 
young Cnrlyon please you T Aro you grateful for my recom- 
mcndntion f " 

" lie is R very good secretary," s«id Selywn ; " I was thinking 
of proposing somctliing more permanent to him." 

" What, give him up, tf he suiis you?" said Lord Itookbury. 

" VWll, in the first place, it is fair to a clever man to give htm 
a lill— in the second, I think he can be made useful — intlietliird, 
lie is your jtrotegi — and in the fourth— no, 1 don't know that I 
have a fourth at present." 

" Yes, you have," said the Karl significantly, 

** Tlien include the fourth," said Selywn, willi composure, " and 
tell me on all accounts wliv I nhould not do as I propose." 

'* In the fourth pliicc," said Lord Uookbury, " Mr. Carlyon is a 
deal at the Hotel Forester, Park Street. Tliat 'a the way you 

it the public, ginng three weak reasons for your conduct, 

istead of one strong one, and that's why the intelligent public 

irda you us a red-taper. That woman will have you, Frank 

ftf/a—jroa had better strike while you can do it peacefully. 



Let roe convey your propoMil to her, and you marry her when the 
Roiue rises.** 

Selwyn looked defiant and rock-like, and not at all as n man 
who meant to let himself he married against bis trill ; and ibea 
Lc went on with liin letters. 

" Itnt Carlyon is too much a man of this world to let himself 
be mule in the slightest degree useful to Aw," said tbe Earl, 

Selwyn paused for a minute, and then he said, growing irate at 
the reflection. 

'* She has the perseverance of the arch-enemy, Rooktiur}'. I need 
not say that Bernard could by no possibility commit snch a Mtise 
as to bo supposed to have n suspicion of what is going on, hut I 
am certain that despite himself that woman has got a bold upon 
him, and tinds out where I go, and where her notes will reach me. 
I bclicrc that be would be eager to bo released from knowing 
anything about mo.'* 

" 1 know the hold, if that's all," raid the Earl. " The young 

gentleman has a virtuous passion for n Popish beauty, and the 

,foreiter knows sometliing which would mako mischief. 1 do not 

riah to injure your secretary with you, but he has rather a sus- 

oeptthle nature ; so fnr »» I sec, the chief fault in his character." 

" Von naturally regard that with ^--n-at aversion," said St'lnyn, 

"Do you mean that I am susceptible?" said the Earl. "No, 

Biir. Karly in life I learned to estimate our natural enemies at 

thoir right ralue ; and if I have erer done absurd things in regard 

jto women, it has been with my eyes quite as wide open as those 

ihich I made Ktarc at me.** 

" I cannot discuss such a matter in such a tone," said Selwyn, 

" Vou know my opinions. 1 urn sorry, too, to hear what you tell 

me ; for, though it Is a bad plan to get to, whether you are served 

by ooe clerk or by another, so that you are served well, 1 was 

idiipofted to take a personal iutercst in young Carlyon." 

"At I «id, I woulil not willin*^Iy injure him," said the Karl. 
••I sent him to you because 1 lik<,d lum ; and 1 like him still. 
But I sboald not think of cunccflliu); anything from yuu, Frank, 
and the fact is that this young gentleman's heart seems to be 
extraordinarily large, ile first secures the affections of a sweet 
tittle ^rl in the country, one whom I quite loved as a daughter; 
and her he has thrown over for this Koman Catholic lady, with 
■Vbom, I believe, be is seriously entangU-d — not w much so, how- 
r, M to prevent bis forming a tbrntrical tiaiaon, fur you give 
•o little work to do that he has time to write plays. And 
'fottrtbly, as you would say, there is a little matter in Mrs. 
Fore»trr*s keeping, of which, I dare snv, bo would be vcn- sorry 
the Madonna sboidd hear. Finally, I was yettci'dny apprised 
by a Catholic priest — such a clever fellow, Frank, 1 must mnlje 
Qfott know him— that Mr. Carlyon has other at)piralions in a 
ter in which 1 hiive some interest." 

" Yon hare taken a good deal of pains to ranrshnl the casa 

linst your late protf^^, " nmd 3Jr. Selwyn cool^. " ^iVei Vft 


mm jisen ami. shm gnm offence, or the difference in your posi- 
-ffin* suikis ic inmsn^ that 70a Bhould be bo much intereated 
s. an .live a&irs af this Toon; ieUtnr.'* 

?!m Siiri wsaod Car m aecond ; for the mstioct of the tcmpttlons 
xnil !iii;alT-li7ed Selwrn fasd prompted the retort, to which Lord 
Suu&buEji whoae tact had been somewhat cousened h^ a life of 
iwiiiiiiiiif ii II nwiMiliililji to tax world or the other, had asaaredly 
Ihid himaetf open. Bnt he laughed. 

'*^T«rT tm^ Frank,*' he said; " and I admit that it is absurd 
t£iu: mcb. a matter should occupy your attention or mine ; but 
^ne zjR^ entcmnstances. We are inclined to pnsh this young 
Bum bi his way through life, only we need not do it blindfold. A 
maa cmnot do better than try to improve his position by a good 
■aft^ I told Bernard so when I sent him to you; but I hate to 
SKe- a man ranuiag from one girl to another, waging unhappiness 
avi finttering away his chaaccs." 

^ Still," observed Selwyn, who saw that all this meant something 
Murv than had yet been said, ** I cannot see, while my Secretary 
answers m\ letters punctually, and genevally does his duty, that I 
hare any nght to enquire into his matrimoiual riews.** 

<" I see I most tell you, frankly/' said the Earl. " what I rather 
snpiKMed you would have gathered. You spoke of promoting this 
young man, and of giving htm an independent position.'* 

**! said that I thought him an able young man, aud one likely 
to be a useful public serraut," said Selwyn, who had now got into 
«Qe of his attitudes <^ mental determination, and felt incUned to 
%ht Lord Rookbury for every inch of the field. 

" And, theit;fore, you meant to gire him achance of showing his 
«til:;y. Prank." 

" 1 h»vc, as yon know, Rookbury, certain opiniona as tu one's 
4tttr« and although it is difficult in an office like this always to do 
voki lo say exat^y what one wishes—^ 

-^ As xiiictt Town Clerks are dduded into beliefs,*' said the Earl. 

* As wb«n Tawn Clerks delude thenudTes into beliefs," said Mr. 
St^« va« eontinaing in the same composed tone, " still, where there 
is «<«~(v«Mtt a(aui*t at once rewarding a uiefiil man, and aecuriug 
h:s ».-n:<«* to 0BC*4 dt^oitmcnt, I should i^^t my failing to 

Tho Vjtri WM |:Nwing wtdkedly irritable, but he had known 
Fr9tiu-;$ :^l«Tn f.v yvars. and wu wdl aware that against that 
haturhty and* !«tf^iect«d Enun^cal, the storm of his lordly 
wrath xr.inW hATv about as mudi influence as the dashing of a 
»hov» tT against iho double windows of his apartment. 

" Cosifcund jvu." said the Kari. "when you get upon the high 
ClapUam n>|*e», thoiv is no talking to you. Will you listen to 
tbi»: IV yvHt know that a renr interesting event has recently 
takon plaociu my family?" 

" 1 do not go to the thcntres," said Selwyn, a little maliciously, 
*' but ^oiuobody brought luc a playbill, on which I read that an 
actrt^s hming been discovered — " 

"Oh, hohi jrour tongue," said the Bad, with a great oath. 



• Wasn't it enough to drive one irild? However, I nm goinj? to 
uiuiab the scoundrel. But ;oa sny that you understood it. 
nhy did not you write and con^rntulate tuc ?" 

"Bceanse I supposed that X uuder&tood it," said Mr. Sdwrn, 
gmvclT. " You know thjtt I can look nt such subjects in one 
mrf oii)y, snd that you will be aauoyed if we cootutue the coii' 

" By George ! I should like to know whai you tbonght it meaut. 
Master Frauk," retorted the Karl. "Just as a matter of cu- 
Mty, now ? For, to do you rehgious men justice, if one Aocs 
y«ii the slightest excuse for supposing' anything improijer, 
you do give your ri;j;hteous im»^natious the rein with a vea- 
gemee, and beat us all to nothing.** 

" I tkoQ^t that I saw evidence that melancholy wiclcedii««i 

in oourvc of action/' said Selwyu, gravely, " but I did not 

to feUow out its detailii in thought, nor do T now desire to 

tbctn. Yuu arc a lii^hly iutellcctua] man, Rcokbury, and 

know all that there it tu sny ou such affairs, and what is 

eliered by myitelf and others as to tlieir end." 

" I will say that you seldom talk cant to me, Frank, and yon 

vrll admit that, iti return, I setdotn vex your soul with observa- 

flioM ^Ht you do not like to hear. ](ut I must tell you that, on 

inmiiif occaaion, yuu hare made a nuuTTellous mistake. You 

id in that d — d pLiybill Uiat a youttg lailr was to leave the 

^■tage, and tliat I—'' 

" I bcUeTe^" said Selwya, with displeasure at the subject being 

'ponued. "that it is not the first time that a miserable rottog^ 

^■woman has left her miserable profession :it your suggestiou. A. 

timo may probably come when you will thiuk of these things with 

']csi levity. Meantime, let Wi avoid the discuaaion." 

".^s I Buppuscd," crieil the Earl^ tnumphiiutly, and applauding 
with his cane. " Bravo, Chipluuu ! BraTo, Exeter llall ! Trn^t 
Tou for patttug the very wont posaible interpretation upon every- 
.thiu^ This time, however, my dear Sclwyn, you iure [{uitB 
tirrong. I do nut nieiLu to say tliat X am quite free from blamaj 
m tiie affair, seeingtlmt I ncj^lectcd the young ladv iu ({uestion for^ 
Bany years doriug which X uught tu have watchcJ over her. But 
I have at list come forth as a father should do, and claimed my 
child. Xu, you need not look so doubtfully, or take up Dcbrett 
in that manner — yon will not tiiid ber name meutiooed there." 
"Nor ber mother's, T imagine/' said Sclwyu. 
" Possibly not/' said Lunl Itookbury, gravely. " I was abroad 
vhen we were married, and tbo editor's circular requesting the 
latest corrections did not reach mc." 

** We need not play with the pour girl's misfortuue/' said 
the l^liiustcr, evidently regarding this last spcoch as a mystiBca- 

"Thank you/' said Lord Bookbun,-, "but bad as I may be, I 
cannot see that it is exsicCly a miHrortunc for a young lady to bo 
called my daughter. In a word. Sclwyn, this girl, of whom you 
luve bcaid, is rav child, in hirful ired/ock, and though Cor Te^otv% 


wlucli I TiU eiqtlun to you, I desire to postpone my public 
Rcognitum of her at present, her avenir will be a very happy one/* 
" In some wbt,*" sud the Minister, "you were going to connect 
ker name vith that of my Secretary. I do not desire to enquire 
intD any family amngements, but what are you leading up to V 
" To what I started with. I want you to delay giving Carlyon 
bis [dace." 

** Art Tou going to marry the young lady to Bernard Carlyon ?" 
asked Selwrn, (^nickly. 

*• No, no," said the Earl, thrown off his guard for a moment by 
the statesman's sudden question. If he had seen its intent, he 
Toold assuredly have lied. 

** In that case,** said Selwyn, " I could easily have understood 
that yon might desire to miOce your own provision for him, or to 
test his disinterestedness, or fifty things. But if the young 
people are nothing to one another, I do not see how her position 
afftcta hia.** 

" Yon will have diapter and vcrac for everything, Selwyn. Did 
I not tell yon that a Catholic priest gave me some information 
yesterday, which concerned a person in whom I am interested." 

" I do not believe, as a rule, everything Roman Catholic priests 
ny,*' said Selwyn, (with Protestant emphasis on the localizing 
word), "nor, I imagine, do you. But you insist on being mys- 
terious, and yet you Ask me to do what I feel would be unjust. 
Do Tou mean that the giving young Carlyon this berth will 
embolden him to make advances towards Miss — Miss — " 

" Towards Lady Anna Rookbury,"* said the Earl angrily. " After 
what I have said, you can have no doubt as to her name. And 
Ton have rightly guessed the reason why I wish Mr. Carlyon 
retained for the present in his situation of Secretary." 

lie lied this time, that good-for-nothing old Earl, for he knew 
that had he given the real reason — you shall hear it one of these 
days — Selwyn would have cut the interview very short. But he 
felt that he had failed in obtaining his object, and was not at all 
nirpriscd to hear Selwyn say, 

" Upon my word, Rookbury, I do not think that is reason 
enough for doing Carlyon an injustice. Let him oflFer for your 
dnughtpr, if he likes. You can refuse him, you know ; though, 
npou my word, I do not know that I should. I shall give him 
his place, I think." 

Aud the first deputation was announced, and Lord Rookbury 
departed in a great rage. 

Br Grack Grekn'Wood. 


Xtk. — Ki.iowhx. — TtiK BtKitin.*CF. or Bvrxs — ^Tiic MaxDUEMT.-~Mit«. Bcao. 
— C)t.fc«oaw — Lock Loso. — I.oirtt Ooil. — IxvEx«tiir. — ^Tak»et. — Aicext of 
ifcM LoMoiri». — Locfi Lomond. — Locii Katkike. — StiKLixo. 

Edinburgh, October 1. 
1 L8FT Bt^tlast on ihc creninR of the 93rd of September, with 

my friends Mr. and Miss N , for a shnrt tour in Scotland. 

We landed at Ardro<isan, a port of no particular note, and from 
ihenci! tot^ the railway to Ayr. This la&t is a fine, floiirift}iing 
tovn, but, aside from tlic " iwa brigs," containing no objects of 
pectilur interest as associated nitli Ilnms. Here wc took a 
dro»kj, and drore over to the old parish of AUoway. It was with 
tlie true spirit.ot a pilgrim tliat I approached the birthplace of 
that noble poet of Lore and Nature, whoi^c sweetest songs I had 
leamod from my mother's lips almost with my cradle hymns. As 
I gazed aroimd un the scenes ouce dear and fumiUar to his eyes^ 
my heart, if not all aglow with its earliest poetic enthusiasm, 
acknowledged a deep sympathy for, and did honour to, him who, 
while his soul was lified into the divine air of poesy, withdrew 
not his heart from bis fellows, — who shared humbly in their hum- 
ble fortunes, and fell inlcuscly their simple joys aud bitter sorrows, 
— vbo, with all his faults, was honest and manly, with all his 
trils and poverty, proud and free, and nobly independent, — who, 
lid all bi» follies aud errors, acknowledged Gud and reverenced 

The cottage in which Bums was born, and which his father 
built, was originally what is here called a** clay bigging," consist- 
ing only of two j^mall apartments on the ground floor' — a kitchen 
and sitting room. The kitchen has a recess for a bed, and here 
the poet first opened his bewildered baby eyes on an ungeuial 
world. This room, it is supposed, was tlio scene of ' The Cotter's 
Saturday Night.' 1 was somewhat disappointed to find this cot- 
tage standing on the road, and that it had been built on to, and 
whitcwashetl out nf all character and renerablcDess. It is [low 
occupied as an alehouse, which beseemeih it litllo as the scene of 
Ihe beautiful religious poem above named. A few rods from the 
door citands the **auld haunted kirt," through one of whose win- 
dows luckless Tarn O'Shanier took iiis daring observation of Old 
Nick and tlie witches, "as they apjwared when enjoying them- 
■cKed." This is a picturesque, roofless, raftcrless etiifiec, in a 
good state of preservation. In tlie pleasant old churchyard rests 
the fatlier of the poet, beneath the totnbstone crectetl and in- 
scribed hy one whose days should have been "long in xhe VuiA^ 
vou xsxrr. -^ 


aeeordiiig to llie prumisci for Duras tiuly bonoored his father anc 
his mother. 

From tlie kirk wc wetil to the inonumcnt, which stands on the 
siuumil of thu uostcni bank of the Doon, aud near to the *'aQld 
brig** on the "keystone" of which poor Tam O'Shantcr was dcU- 
vered from his weird pursuers, and bis gray joEire "Meggie" met 
with a loss irreparable. This moDumcnt, uf which the prints giro 
a very good idea, is of graceful proportions and a lasleful style of 
architecture. The groundii about it, though small in extent, are 
admirably kept, shaded ivith fine shrubbery, and made mure beau- 
tiful by hosts of rare and lovely Houerti. There liouraed to me 
something peculiarly and touchingly fitting in thus surrounding an 
edifice, sacred to the geuius of Bums, \ril)i the leafy hauntti of the 
birds he lored, in whose songs alone would his tuneful memory 
lire, and with the sweetness and brightness of flowers, from whose 
glowing hearts he would hare drawn deep meanings of lore and 
pare breathings of passion, or on whose frail, fragrant leaves he 
would have read holy Sabbath trnth«, lessons of modesty and 
meekness, and teachings of the wondrous wisdom of Htm who 
planted the daisy on the lonely hill-side, and the poet in a weary 
world — the one to delight the eyes, the other to chami aud cheer 
the souls of His creatures. 

Within the monument wc saw that most touching relic of Bums, 
the Bible which he gave to '*Hig!iland Mary" at their solemn 
betrothal. It is in two volumes. On the flyleaf of the first, 
in the handmiting of the poet, is the text, "And ye shall not 
Bwear by my came falsely: I am the Lord." In the second, 
"TlioH shall not forswear tliyself,but shall perform unto the Ix)rd 
thine oaths." In both volumes is the name of Bums, with his 
mason's mark, and in one is a lock of Mary's own beautiful 
golden hair — a soft, glossy curl, which in that last tender parting 
may have been smoothed down by the caressing hand, may have 
waited in the breath, or lain against the breast, of the poet lover. 

The view from the summit of the monumeuL is one of rare 
interest, eimbracing as it does many of the scenes of the life and 
song of Bums. Tlie scenery of Ayr is not grand, surely, nor 
strikingly picturesque; but this view is lovely, quiet, and ple:iKant 
beyond description — iraly a smiling landscape. Perhaps some- 
thing was owing to the rich sunshine and Mtft air of the day, and 
more to the wundrous charm of association ; but I never rcmeml>cr 
to have felt a more exriutsite sense of beauty, a delight more deep 
and delicious, though shadowed iviih snd and rcgrclful memones, 
than while silting or "trolling on the lovely banks of the Doon, 
half cheated by cxcital fancy with the huiie that I might see the 
rtistic poet leaning over the picturesque "auld brig," following, 
Witli his great, dark, dreamy eyes, the windings of the stream 
below; or, with glowing face upraised, revelling in the clear blue 
sky and fair floating clouds ahore; or, perchance, walking elowly, 
on the shore, couiiny down from the pleasant "braes y' BaIloch-1 
myle," musing, with folded arms and ilrooping heail, on *' the 
bonnic lass" who had there unconsciously strayed across the path 



otm^oet, and chaDced npnn immortalitj- Tho Doon iu?cined to 
niD by «itfa the melodious (Irm- of bin song — uow wiili Ui<; impo- 
taooft »wei'p of passion; nD<T with Uia (inii sparklr of pleasant wit; 
M» anilcr tlM solenin shadofrs o( sorrow; novr out uito liie clear 
MoBfiil of exultant jo,v ; now iritli the soft gurgle and silver Uick- 
ing at lore's H^t roeaMires; novt wilh the lou*, deep niurniur of 
IctmoQ. As I lmi;Tn.-d there, countless snatches of the poet's 
ttofft, and ttuss aAer stanza of long-lor^utlun pcietns, sprang 
to njr li|a; rare thoughts, the »:wert, fiesh Uowttr of liis geirins, 
scccBed sadditily t» lilonsom oat from all the bidden nooi<fi and 
Mil), «luu]ed places of mi-mory, and the fiir cliitdrvn of hit> fancy, 
vbo had sung themst^tTvij to slet^ in my heart long ago, ctirred, 
awnko, and smik-d into my face aj^in. 

Hmiily fcr me, my companionii fully nnderrtood and synii>a- 
thtaca widi my mood — ao little vau said, that much might bo folt. 
due BUS 

** Te bonks and braei o' boauic Doon ; " 

ttod iv^wthtr H WV3 that his roice. in ita sofi, pathcUc toncS| 
vaa poeafiaily Fttircd to the mnnmful words and air, or that the 
•ecne itaeir ramglt-'d its mi-lodinus memorr with the singing, T 
know not; but iiorer before had I bevn so .iBected by the song. 

On our way back to Ayr, wr called to see the bister and nieces 
ef Bttma, — Mrs. Bcgg and lirr daughters, — who, we had been 
tmarvA, were kindly accessible to visitors. This risit vaa alto- 
■rtbcr the most iiittT.'Sling and gratifyinj^ orcnt of the day. Mrs. 
Begs li'tea in a simple littK^ ro*o-emhowi'rrd fotlagc, about a mile 
&on her birthplace, where all who ficek lier wilii a respectfid 
{ntemt neccive ncourtt-'ous and cmtlial wclcomo. Mni. Ucgg is 
mw ^KMt eighty years of age, hut looks scarcely above »xty, and 
•bivws man ihan the remains of remarkable beauty. Her (ontle 
cotM IkaiAy bare been sweeter, or lier cvor fin<-r, at twenty. Her 
aigfaf. bearag, and memory seem nnimpaired; ber mannrre are 
graceful, motiesl, and liulilike, and she couierxeb willi nue intclH- 
KBoeaixl antmation, 8j>eatting with a slight, ftweet Scottish accent. 
Her likeness to Naysmith's portrait of her brother is very marked 
— hor cvea arc peculiarly like the idea we bare of bis, both by 
nctsroB and description — large, dark, lofitnms, and changing. 
Those eytm shone with new brightness as I told ber of our love 
for the me«»iy of her beUtred brother, our sj-uipatliy in his eor- 
xows, and our hunnur for bis free and manly spirit — when I told 
har that the new world, as the old, bowed to the mastery of his 
|cniaa, and were swayed to smiles or tears by the wondrons witch- 
wrj of his song. But when I spoke my admiration of the monu- 
»«&t, and said, ** What a jov it would hare been to him, cimld he 
bare Ibrweru snch noble recognition* of his greatness !" she 
aniled aoimifully, and shook her head, sayinjr, ".^.h, madam, ia 
hi* pnmde«t moments, my poor hri'thcr never dreami'd of such a 
thing;'* Uten added that his death chamber was darkened and his 
daau a|^ny deepened by want and care, and torturing fean (ot 
Aedaar ones bo was io leave. I n-as reminded by her wqiiA& oi 

D 2 



the expression of an old Scotch dame in our country, on hearing 
of the completion of this monument: "Fuir Rob! he asked for 
bread, and now they gie him a stane." 

Mrs. Begg says that Naysmith's portrait of her brother is the 
best, but that no picture could hare done justice to the kindling 
and varying expression of his face. In her daughters, who are 
pleasant and interesting women, you can trace a strong family 
resemblance to the poet. The three sons of Bums are yet living ; 
two are in the army, and one has a situation under government at 
Dumfries. All three are widowers. When I saw her, Mrs. Be^ 
was expecting daily the two youngest, the soldiers, who as often 
as possible visit Ayr, and cherish as tenderly as proudly the 
memory of their father. 

It was with deep emotion that I parted from this gentle and 
large-hearted woman, in whose kindred and likeness to the glorious 
peasant I almost felt that I had seen him, heard his voice with all 
its searching sweetness, and had ray soul sounded by the deep 
divinings of bis eyes. It seems indeed a blessed thing, that, after 
the sorrow which darkened her youth, the beholding the pride of 
the house sink into the grave in his prime, broken-hearted by the 
neglect of friends, the contempt and cruelty of foes, by care and 
poverty, and, bitterest of all, by a weary weight of sell-reproach, 
that she has lived to see his children happy and prosperous — his. 
birthplace and his grave counted among the world's pilgrim shrines 
— to be herself honoured and beloved for his sake, and to sun her 
chilled age in the noontide of his glory. 

From Ayr we took the railway to Glasgow, which place we did 
not reach till after dark. In the morning we rose early, took a 
carriage, and drove to the cathedral, to which we were so fortunate 
as to gain admittance, even at that unusual hour. This is a com- 
mandingly situated, vast, and gloomy edifice, chiefly remarkable as 
the only cathedral in Scotland spared by Knox and his compeers 
at the rime of the Reformation. It is more massive than beautiful, 
but has a certain heavy grandeur about it, that, seen as we saw it, 
in the chill and grayness of the early morning, oppresses one to a 
painful degree. In the extensive, dark, and melancholy crypts 
beneath \his cathedral is laid the scene of a meeting between 
Francis Osbaldistone and the Macgregor in Scott's Rob Roy. 

On a height, back of the cathedral, is the Glasgow Necropolis, 
containing some fine monumental sculptures, particularly conspi- 
cuous among which is a statue of John Knox. 

Glasgow, for a manufacturing town, makes a very handsome 
appearance. Many of the pubHc buildings are of a fine style of 
architecture ; and Ihe planted squares, those fresh breathing-places 
off the crowded business streets, are truly beautiful. In Waverley 
Square stands a noble column, crowned with a statue of Scott. 

About eight o'clock we took the steamer to go up the Clyde, 
Loch Long, and Loch Goil. The air was fresh, and somewhat 
too keen ; but the sunlight was brilliant, and we greatly enjoyed 
the trip. The first object of particular interest which we passed 
was the grand old rock-seated Castle of Dumbarton, famous from 


tbe earliest periods of Scottish history, and most sadly ntemorahle 
as the scene of the betrayal of Wallace by the " fause Monteith." 

It was not until we had passed op Loch Long into Loch Goil 
that the true Highland scenery began to open upon us in its sur- 
passing loveliness and ni^ed grandeur. The shores of Loch 
Goil are rough, barren, and precipitous, but now and then we 
passed green-sheltared nooks and dark glens of indescribable 
beauty. I grew more and more silent and unconscious of my 
immediate surroundings, for my very soul seemed to hare gone 
irom me, to rerel abroad in the wide, varied, enchanting scene. 
At Loch Goil Head we took outside seats on the stage-coach, to 
drive through (I beg pardon, but I give tbe name as it was given 
to me) " Big Hell Glen" to Inverary, on Loch Fyne. 

Our driver on this occasion proved to be a decided character, 
having a rich, comic humour of his own, a good memory, a fine 
Toice, and admirable powers of mimicry. He told a story well, 
and recited poetry like a tragedian. After informing us that Loch 
Goil Head was the scene of Campbell's fine ballad of " Lord 
Ullin's Daughter," he recited the poem veiy effectively, though 
when he came to tbe passage, — 

** One lovely hand was stretched for aid. 
And one was round her lover," 

he took the liberty of making a slight change in the text, his ver- 
sion being, — 

" One lovely hand was stretched for aid, 
And ye may a' guess where was th' hher." 

This glen, of name unholy, is one of the most beautiful passes 
I ever beheld— a wild, winding, shadowy, magnificent place. 
Verily, indeed, O Juliet, "what's in a name?" To me it cer- 
tainly seemed, on that lovely day, that " Nickie Ben," in annexin;^ 
this mountain pass, bad imprudently laid claim to a choice bit of 
Heaven's own territory. 

Inverary is a very small village, but we found there a nice, well- 
ordered hotel, were we were exceedingly comfortable— a far better 
inn, surely, than the one at this place on which Bums perpetrated 
this witty and wicked epigram : — 

*' Whoe'er he be who sojourns here, 
I pity much his case, 
Unless he come to wait upon 
The lord, their god, His Grace." 

The Duke of Argyle's castle and grounds are now, as then, the 
chief features of the place after the scenery, which is certainly very 
beautiful. It is truly a princely residence in site and surround- 
ings, though the castle itself is built neither in a style of feudal 
grandeur nor modem elegance. After dinner we took a stroll 
trough the noble park, and ascended a hill nearly eight hundred 
feet high — in all, a walk of over five miles. The next morning 
proved stormy, and we were obliged to post in a close carriage 
Tomid the head of Loch Fyne, through Glen Croe, past the head 




of Loch l<0Hg U) Tarbet, on I.ocii Lomoud. Tbc vealber cleanid 
op, so ihat vc wirrn able Lo have a little Btroll hy tlic lake iu Uie 
ereuiDg ; and tli«; ntrxl DioruiDg, wliicli was cli^r antl bright, we 
walkvil hcTorf: hreuUia&i over tu JU>ch LDag,whL-re ve Uwk a drive 
along the aboi« in a peculiar, indesiiribablc vehicle, called a "dog- 
cart." The moTuitig air watt a tiiUe Loo frust,)*, and we were on the 
sbadj aide of the loch, or this drive aloog a most picturesque road, 
with some new beauty of sccuerj prescniing itself at every lum, 
would have been delightful bc^oud compaie. A» it waft, we toon 
fouud ourselves obliged to dui'sc our rapture to keep it warm, aud 
odIv by heroic cflbrts could we restrain Uie zeroic Undeucy of our 
enihuitiajiin. So perfectly benumbed did we become, that we were 
oulv lou happy to resign our state, descend from oar " dug-cart," 
and du thu laftt two miles on foot, cheerily in^ircd by lliou{;hte of 
the giuwing lire and tlie hot breakfast which awaited us at Ibe 
pleasaiil mu at Turhel. 

The ascent of Ben Lomond from Rowardennan is not pcriloas 
nor TOT)- difBcidt, but is exceedingly tedious. 'X"he tUstaiice is about 
six luiles ; we rode the whole way on |>onie8 trained to the business 
— strong, quiet, aud surefooted nniniaU, fortunately for us, as,aft;er 
tlie heavy rain of the preceding day, the path was in an unusually 
bad condition, with loose stuues, slippery rocks, deep uiire, and 
shaky bogs. 

We surtcd.well wrapped in cloaks, shawls, and furs, fearing tho 
brcL-zcs of the air on the mnnntain suniuiits ; but uc soon found 
ourselves obliged to lay aside one after another of these articles, 
for as we reached the heig'uts wo found the upper day there not 
only as rospleudeully liiglii, but as soft, and still, and sumraer- 
likc, as Uiu sweet, unscasouablc inoniing we had left in the valley. 
About half way up wc paused to revel in a glorious view of 
Loch Lomond, smiling up to heaven in all its entraiiciug beauty of 
silvery waters, vetdaut cltistoring ialands, and mouutain-shadowed _ 
shores. ■ 

1 cannot believe that any most swent aud wondrous vision of 
earthly loveliness or grandeur will have power to banish that fait 
picture from my memory. But from the suuuuil what a mighty, 
mea&urcles-t panorama — nhat a woild of light and shadow— what 
a glory of nature — wliat a wonder of God lay beneath and around ■ 
iw ! WorUa can only gire yon an idea of the extent, of the vast " 
circumference, of liiat view. To the dst are iJio hills anil valleys 
of Surhngshire and tho Lothians, Stirling Castle and the winding 
of the Forth, tlie J'enilurid Hills, Arthur's Seat, and Edinburgh 
Casdo. In the south, the peak of Tiuto, the city of Glasgonr, 
Lanarkshire, .Viliw Cruig, Uic Isle of Man, and tho Isles of Bnui 
and Arran— and, gazing down beyond the outlet of Loch Lomond, 
you see Dumbarton. But on tho north I licheld the grandest _ 
sight iliat ever met my gszo— mountains on mountaiiu, stretching I 
MwaSf iato the distance, and beeming like Hie mighty waves of a 
duk «■ stayed in their stormy swell, petrified and fixed for ever 
by the ftord of Onmipotynco. Vcxod indeed, and tunmltuous, 
nmt have been that awful chaotic ocean, erv its rast billows and 



Uack boUoTS nrere resolved JnU) dio rviTlasting rock — for among 
lime aowTllain fonns tlicro is a iroudroivi nod rndtcss variety. 
OW guide, a brigLt jouii); taddic, 8c«iDud auvri^e awed by tlic iin- 
MUBg presence of Uie inountains, but poiuted out tliu chief of 
uciD} BcD Lcdi, Ben Vorlick, Ben More, Ben Lawers, Cairn- 
lomiu, Be» CruAchan, and Ben Xe^is, as familiaily as he would 
■Mttk of otber and leaser liens of bis acquniiitaucv. Ki-neath us 
iboDe Loch Iiomooi], Loch Katrin<_-, Loch Ard— the wild counLrj 
of Rob Roj — the scene of tlie euehauling rouiouce and so»i; of 
ScotL Yet hcru, fur the first time, all the associations of history 
■Dd portij' lost llieir chann — I was ahovc and beyond tht'in. On 
thai uiblimc and lonely height, od whose still, pure air floated no 
•ouud of human life, tbe Lhonghls and emotions of my heart vrere 
ftsTcrcnsial and religious. The stupendous mountain peals, the 
otofiMl hills aroand, seemed altars fur Nature's |K-rpctual worship 
— lowering types of the uiight and majesty of God; while the 
)akeM with ibeir silver shining, and tlic green vallers with their still 
•hadowft and golden glcuias of autumnal sunlight, in all their 
wuuilnnu beauty, spoke sweetly to the awed spirit of divine love 
amd protecting care. Even while tremblingly acknowledging God 
frnm tiioce avftU mountain summits, the soul strove in rain to 
ascend iulo "the ph\ce of the Most Highi'^ it seemed to grow 
blind and dizzy, and to flutter like a spent bird down into the 
abysJK* of doiibl and despair. Bnl from the valleys, the quiet, 
aboJtcTed, lusuriaul valleys, the happy heart could look up coib- 
Sdingly, and &ay, " Abba, Father." 

On tbe morning of tho day following this mcmonible accent, we 
took tfaa BtcaneT fur the head of Loch Lomond, ]>3.<i»ing Itob Uuy's 
Can, and beliolding mucli beautiful Rcciiery. Uctuming to Iii- 
ftnaaid^we took a drosLy and drove acrotis a rough, wild coun- 
Uy, to Lucli Katiiuc. Uu our way we were shown the niios of a 
IlighUiuI but, the birthplace and early honiu of HeUm Mac 

At the bead of Loch Katrine we embarked on a funny little 
steamer, which ccrtiinty did not burn- us past scenes on which 
ow imagiuation delighted to linger. The head of this Inke is not 
particularly licautiful, but I found that my most glowing coa- 
csptions had not surpassed tlie exquisite loveliness of that portion 
which funui the opening scene of ' The I*ady of the Lake,* Kllen*s 
Ulc, the mooutaius lieu An and Den Venue, and the deBle of the 
I'nucbs. Jjoto island, and shore, and hill are richly clad io 
Mlgni6ceiii foliage ; and the grandeur of rocky heights and dark 
ravines is so pleasantly relieved, so solily toned down, that roa 
fed neither wondt?r uor awe, but drink in heaoty as yi^ur hieatli — 
lose yourself in delicious dreamings, and revel in all the unspeak- 
able rapture of a pure and perfect delight. A remembrance which 
is an especial joy to mc now, " and ever shall be," is of a walk 
Lti "i my friends thai night along the shore of the lake, to 

ti- .; Bttand oppobite KIIun'!> Isle, which seemed slcej>ing in 

tbe maouii^hl, aflual on the fitill waters, even as its fair vision had 
flottcd before my soul on the sUycr waves of the poct''s uOQg- 

^ Sottct 



A 8lag:e-coac'h drive to Stirling, the next day, was over the 
crouiid of tlic chase followed by yUz-JaineB. We passed the once 
"bannered towers of Doune," now ruined and ivy-grown — a fine, 
picturesque old castle. Crossing the hridRe over the Forth, on 
entering' the ancient town of Stirling, reminded me of a character- 
istic anecdote I had lately beard of a Httirdy Scotch dnine, who 
once, during a stormy season, had occaMon to cross the river at a 
ferry some twenty uiilus below. The fvrrjinan told licr that Um 
waters ran high, and tim wind ^irnmiaed a Iiard blow, but that, as 
her business was pressing, he would do hi& best to get her safely 
across. "Is there mockle danger, uiou ? " she asked. "Ay, 
woman, the ])iis80{;e wad be perilous, but ye maun put your tjnst 
in Providence." "■ Na, na," says ilie prudent dame, drawing baclt, 
** I'll no tiu&t in Piovidence so lang as there '» a brig at Stilling," 
and actually set forth to walk the whole distance taund. There 
is a volume of nationni character in this little story. An Irish 
woman would have trusted in Pi-ovideocc, or rather in Saint 
Patrick and the "holy virgin," and told her bends across the 
perilous passage, rather than wearied her bones by taUng the safe 
roundabout way. 

The Caslle of Stirling is one of the most grandly situated of 
Scotland's old royal strongholds, and is a dark, fi-owning pile, 
thronged with sombre and bloody memories. Tlie view from ilie 
wall is one of the most chnrmiitg in its beauty* and soul-stirring 
in its associations, pos:4il>1e to take in anywhere, with one ^low, 
wondering sweep ofthu' eye. l-'ar away in the distance lower tlio 
Djajesiic mountain iilmpes of the grand Highlands; beneath and 
around us lie the silver courses of the Forth, the 'J'eith, the Allan, 
and all the richly •cultivated country through which they wind, 
slowly and quite circmtously, as though reluctant to flow away 
from banks so lovely; while, green and beautiful as any richest 
meadows, smile towards the smiling skits the ouce bloody and 
trara]ilcd battlo-iields of Falkirk, Cambuskcnnctb, oud glorious 

Our guide pointed out to us the remains of the terraced garden, 
the round table, and the royal canal constructed under the direc- 
tion of Mary of Guise ; the sallyport w hence issued " the Gudemnn 
of Ballengeicli," the " King o( the Commons," on his incog, ei- 

{)ediiiou« among tlio peo]ile; the window out of which James II. 
lurled the Earl of IJouglas, after having slain him with his own 
roynl hand ; and the tower iu which Roderick Dhu is said to have 
died. Mary Stuart was crowned at Stirling, and James VI. was 
here educated under Buchanan. 



TniKTi'-MiyE years have swept over our heads, since Nannleon 
Bnonaparte landed in France from his island sorereigniv ot Elba, 
droTe out ihc restorwl Bourhons at thp point of the bayonet, and 
re-uficenJcd the throne which he had been ruluclantiy coinpcllcd 
lo abdicate in 1(^14, at Funtaiiiuhlcan. An cinpcmr once more, for 
oDe bundred davK be again shook the globe to its centre, just as 
K was subsiding into Irauquillity, and beginning to ruvolve com- 
fortably tin its asis. Tlien the allied powers issued a nianifcstn, 
declaring lliiit, by that act of unprovoked invasion, he had violated 
cxisiin}; Iruaties, nullified his cxisl4}nce, and ])laccd himself beyond 
the pale of civil and social relations. They accordingly denounced, 
and delivered him over to piibtic rengeance as a common enemy, 
■nd disturber of the peace of the world ; at tlie fame time binding 
tbemselves by one {general league, never to make terurs with, or 
afacAthe the sword against, this resiles* adversary, until he was 
nmlcred powerless for the future. The manifesto was isigned by 
the plenipotentiaries of Great llrilain, France (niprcsoiited by the 
gOTcrnmenl of Louis tlio Kighleenth), Austria, Russia, Prussia, 
Spain, Portugal, and Sweden. Under IhiKovenvhelming coalition, 
the star of the first Napoleon, which flickered with a momentary 
blaze at Ligny, went down at Waterloo, never to rise again. 
AnolbcT treaty, or convention, consigned him to the rock of St. 
Hdma, as a prisoner of war. Six years later, he was borne to 
hii londy grave, in that distant region, on the shoulders of British 
greoadicrs. Time, Uial unflinching policeman, who bids all 
''niQTc on," and is never disobeyed, within ten years more saw 
another terolution and another family ruling in France, the 
younger btaoch superseding the elder, eleratcd by tlie barricades 
of I^aO. The avenne tlirough which they climbed was less glo- 
rioos and scarcely as legitimate as Moiitenotte, Riroli, and Ma* 
rengo. But Franco longed for the remains of her great Emperor 
to repose on the banks of tlie Seine, according to his own ex- 
praased desire. The national glory required this propiliaiion— 
tfav i^rish was complied with. The body of Napoleon was trans- 
ftrrcd ivith solemn funereal pomp, and now lies beneath the dome 
of the *' Invahdps," surrounded by the trophies of many battles, 
Soccessive revolutions hurried on each other with startling rajiidity, 
until, in 1H53, the bafiled adventurer of Boulogne, the prisoner of 
Ham, is transformed into iNapoIcon the Third, Kmperor of the 
French, chosen by the suffrages of eight millions of his conntry- 
incn, acknowledged by all the sovereigns of Europe — and the 
proscribed family of Buonaparte is enrolled amongst the reigning 
dynaalies. These oveuU, Mhich resemble Eastern fable rather 
than historical truth, arc nevertlieless recorded facts, registered in 
the annals of the world, and comprised within a narrow segment 
of bttle more thau oue-third of a ceotury. 



Establislied opinions, wlictlipr foiin(!e<1 on prejudice orconvlc- 
tiDn^ ore iiul easily t>liakeu. It has beeo ko long believed lliat 
Napoleon nils a persecuted caplive, and Sir Ilnilson Lowe an 
intolerant gaoler, that any attempt to shofv an opposilc view of 
this picture will be received n'itli beisitation, ana con only bnpc 
lo obtain credit on convinciug evidence. 'Ilie volumes of Air. 
Forsytb, lately publisbcd, inoKt certainly ought to succeed (as 
all lovers of lair ilvaliug will bupu they may] in tcscuiug tho 
memory of an injured ulBcer from mui;h unmerited ubloquy.* 
lie ha& here collected a body of duciiinentary proof, never before 
brougUt togetber, uliile lie bH« exatniucd aud weighed Lbe whola 
with the perspicuity of a practised advocate. There is no special 
pleading, no ingenious sophistry to make tho worse appear the 
better argument, but au appeal to direct teidimony, and couclu- 
aions drawn ua truth preduminate^. \Ve have seldom seen a caso 
more logically argued, or decittiuus furmed on more solid grounds. 
TfaiU Mr. l^orsytb iit always rigbt^ is more ib&n M'ill be conceded; 
but tliHt lie generally produces sound reasons for his coDclusions^ 
will be felt and admitted by all who take the trouble of pem»ing 
his pages, 'llie work is rather voluminous, consisting of three 
goouly octavos, but it could scarcely have been condensed within 
a smaller compass, and one-lhird, at least, is occnpied by tlie 
original despatches aud correspondence, on which the whole is 
based. These are collected togeUier at the end uf each rulume, 
and refened to by marginal notes — a couvtruient arrangement— 
whieb supplies the authority without interrupting the narrative. 
The time for a dispaAsionate consideration of the subject, in all its 
bearings, ha» now fully aiTivedj men's minds are no longer biassed 
by Uic ephemeral libels, which were readily caught up at the mo- 
ment and received as sober facts; when, in truth, they coulained 
little beyond a string of extravagant inventions, but whicb poUtical 
bigotrj', ever blmd, and regardless of truth or justice, received aud 
used for its own purposes. O'Meani's '* Voic* from St. Heleua" 
went rapidly through many editions, produced a large sum of 
money to the writer, aud suine current repuuuiun, whieb, however, 
soon dissipated into " thin air,*" when the man and his motives 
began to be correctly estimated. Meanwhile, it was extolled to 
the skies by every journal aud periodical opposed to the Govern- 
ment of the day. This hook bod been anticipated by a kimlrcd 
publication, equally worthless, "The Letters of Dr. Warden, 
Surgeon of Llie 'Northumberland,'" printed lu 1810, of which 
Napoleon liimselfsaid, und CJeneral Gourgaud echoed after him, 
that it was " a mere tissue of falsehoods " but which nevertheless 
had a prodigious sale, and was eulogised in the grave, oracular, 
didactic columns of the Edinburgh Review, us a volume Ixi be 
ely recommended to their readers, as ouc of the few works on 

"llirtoryof the Caplivitj- of Napoleon at St IlflciiR; ftomtlie Lettcn and 
Jovmali of the U(e Liimt.-Gi^ti. f^t [iudton i-une, ai>(I afficini «I')Gummtv. HOC 
beloK naik' puhlic" By William Forsyth, M.A.. Author of "Hortciiaiu;F."au(l 
" llwtaiy of Trial by Jwj.''Uq Fellow of Triaiiy Collcg*, CMnbriJgo. Three 
Toluucs, 8vo. LoBdoD, 1&63. 





NapoleoD, neither snllied byadnlalioD, nor disgraced bjiKurrilitj. 
llii Mtrre waste of time to look lor vchublt; hisloij in tLo avowed 
dTftan of a party, no nailer bow high tho standard of iu literary 
mtrB»iou&, or how brilliant the talent of its leading coutribuUirs. 
Political ooioioeity crusades agaiast ererything but its otm 
cfaerisbed dogmas, and would cbonge black into M-hite to promolo 
a |iobtical object. 

Sir Walter Scott rt-murkF, with justice, that wc are called upon 
to regard Napoleon n% a man more severely tried in the oppoaite 
exlrenic« of proaperity and adversity iban »ny otiicr sovereign 
or eaoqueror rvcorded in history (Uajazet may, perhaps, bii named 
ai a pamllel); and that it scarcely falls niilitn the capacity of 
oKdiwuy judges, who have never sounded tlw aanw depths* or 
norrd beyond tiiu middle paths of life, to prououDce cm llie want 
of cquaiuButy be displarcd, when patience and fortitude would 
bare devalea bis character, proloni^ed his life, and diniiui!<hed 
Ub ittfennge. Yet tliure can bo no doubt Lliat his conduct was 
Mow himself, and tmtnic to bis reputation. His mind was 
abalum very soon after his arrival at St. Helena, and his mighty 
hcoltim gare way under the pressure of restraint and fretful 
imCalum. He was unforlimate, too, in the se1ect4*d conipaniuna 
of bis cxile> who were ra^-ii of limited cajiacity, although laithful 
and (k'volcd to their master iu adversity; but,ai tlic saiuc time, in 
ibeir intercourse with the Knglisb officers, habitual disciples of 
^iaciiDod— deceitful,iD]practicaljle,3nd perpetually qunnellingM-ilh 
mA mhrr. Instead of assuaging, tbcy iofariably fumeiiled every 
trifittcc cause of diseontent or casual annoyance. Napoleon firmly 
penuded hinisvlf tliat iht; Biiti&b Gu^cruuieuL intended to assas- 
sinate bini, and that Sir Hudson Lowe was their ehoscu execu- 
tioner. And in this monstrous opinion, a British medical ofBccr 
mMimMote$ his own participalioD. Mr. For»ylh quotes a letter of 
O'Ueaim, which appeared in Iho " Morning Chronicle" of the 17tb 
of MtfCDj 16*23, wherein be sajrs Sir Hudson Lowe ignored bis 
apjK>>ntinenl, aud Uitealened lo bundle him olT the island back 
to iilngtand, uud then adds, 

** I asked, if be did send mc ofl* the isIaiKl. whiit would bconnc of Kapoleon 

is out of ikcai T * Oh I ' tuuil lir, * General Bu(i(ia|iitrl« uliall Ix- atlcDtlM] hj 

mf OVB sarcasB, who spcnks lialbui, and wiu wiili nw for sercnil yeus in Uie 

^m Cvniraa Kangpr*.' It was ionic linio »iDc« I Imd kix-d tlm pluy of itiehard 

■ tit TUtd^ uaA the meaning of thf words did nt>t nt once tirikc mc. NapaleOD 



From this spccitacn, an idea may be formed of the extent to 
which O'Meara ventured in his direct and implied tibeh against 
tke unlucky governor; who remained silent, partly iu ignorance, 
ud probably in contempt, of the obloquy (o which he was 
exposed, believing that the truth would find its level without his 
bterionnce, but, at the same lime, carefully accumulating docu- 

mls and rehmting evidence, to bis employed when uccasion rc- 
nbcd. .Atlengtlijin July l&2-2,{}*Meara published his buck called 
"Napoleon in Exile; or, A Voice from St. Helena." Tlieii Sir 
iludaoa Low^ yieldia^ to tho advice of his waime^L huiu<\&, 


inslitnled proceodingB agoiusl O'Mcant for libel ; bul llie open' 
tions of the lanr were so dilatory, and bo long an interval elapsed 
in selecting llio obnoxious passages, and nrcparing the necessary 
affidavits, tliat the jilaiuliff, ignorant of his being confined within 
a particular date, lost bis plea under the siatnte of limitations in 
similar cases, which barred him out in point of lime. The only 
coDsolatiou he derived under this disappointment was, that as 
the decision arose from a legal objection, he was not compelled to 
pay the costs of his adversary as welt as hin omu. Had the case 
f^ne fairly before a jury ou its merits, tlierc can be lilLlo doubt 
thai the result would have cleared Sir Hudson Lowe from many 
groundless acciisntions, and the punishment of the defendant 
wotdd bare furnished a memorable example for future reference. 
Bul, as the matter stood, llic issue was most unfortunate. Un- 
reflecting or malicious people, who knew that the ex-governor of 
St. Metena had brunglit an acliou against O'.Mi-ura nnd failed, cared 
little to inquire how or why ; it was enough for them that lie could 
not obtain a verdict, and public opinion for a time remained uveu 
more lliao ever unfavourable to his reputation. Ho was urf^eiitly 
recommended by Lord Balhurst to draw up a fuU and complete 
justification of all the acts of his government, coupled with the 
documcuts then in his possession, and which are uuw used and 
referred to by Mr. Forsyili. Unhappily for himself, he refused to 
be guided br this counsel, and died without giving to the world 
any reply to his enemies, although coulinuully intending to do Ro, 
and with the materials ready in his possession. A lamentable 
enor iu judgment, as accusations are loo often received for truth, 
because they are uncontradicted. Procrasii nation in defence is 
readily construed into an admission of guilt. 

Wheu Sir Waller Scott's " Life of Napoleon "^ appeared in 
lHti8, Sir Hudson Lowe, iJien in command of the forces at Ceylon, 
lr>ol:ed eagerly to the pages of a high-minded and conscientious 
writer in the hope of finding a complete refutation of the ca- 
lumnies of hired or dishonest scribblers. But even here he 
was doomed to another disappointuit-nt, and found only a qua- 
lified and imperfect defeuce. lu this work. Sir Walter wrote 
hurriedly, against time, - under the pressure of pecuniary en- 
gsgcracuts, and with incomplete materials, which he dismisses! 
hastily, without suflictent examination. Had ha carefully 
perused and weighed the ralue of iho official corrcspi)ndcuco 
placed at his command, he surely could not have said that 
*' Tiio new governor was vulnerable ; ho could be rendered augrj', 
and might therefore be taken at advantage." This is distincOy 
difipravcd by unanswerable evidence, showing that Napoleon was 
irritated, not by the anger of the governor, bul by his impassive 
cnolneas. The French officers themselves, in attendance upon 
their chief, repeatedly acknowledged the governor's politeness, 
and when in the mood" to speak the trulh (which seldom occurred), 
_ftdniiited, more than once, that an angel from heaven would not 
ive given them satisfaction in his place, and that their giant 
^oocp la^^ not in the details of Si. Helena, bul in the fact of 



being there at all. Perltapfi the limited rindication of Sir Walter 
Scolt <li<] more harm to tlu' piililic character of Sir Hudson Lowe 
l/isn iho uiitncaMired caluuiiiies of such uoscrupuluus accusers as 
O'Mcora^ Luk Cases, and AiiLomuiarcbi. He felt this bitlerlvy 
and on his return to England he consulted Lord Batliurst on t^e 
fX|>t;(licnc^ of publivliiug an answer. This tame, the minister 
discouraged the idea, and undervalued the unfavourable clToct of 
the remarks, assuring him that ihc sentiments of llie Govcrauient 
luivards liim m tru unchauguU, and that they required no refuta- 
tion of llie charges tliey did not believe. Nevertheless, he failed 
lo obtain the appointment of Goremor of Ceylon, which had been 
indirectly held out to him. 

Ill IH33, Lord Teyuhaui, in tlic course of a debate in the House 
of TiOrds, roost unnecessarily and invidiously dragged in the name 
of Sir Hudsou Lowe, in a munner which called up the Duko of 
IVelUnglon in an indignant reply. " I," ttaid he, " for the 
purpose of defendinR the character of a highly respectable officer, 
Dot a member of this House, from t)ie gross imputation thrown 
upon him (by implication) by the noble lord ; and certainly a 
gro8si>:r one I ncirer heard nttercd within these walls. I ha\-e the 
booour Id L'now Sir Hudson Lowe, and I will say in this House, 
or clwwhere, wherever it may Ik*, that there is not in the army 
a more respectable officer than Sir Hud.son Lowe, nor has his 
31aju«ty a more faithful subject." Lord Bathursl too, loudly 
echoed this opinion, and plainly charged ihe accusers of the ex- 
goreroor with direct falsehood. There wok no standing against 
this boneat, straightforward battery, and I^rd Tcynham was driven 
to an ample apology for his tmwarrantahlc attack. Sir Hudson 
Lowe, long unaccustomed to hear a friendly voice raised in bis 
behalf, wrote to the Duke, and warmly thanked htm for bis 
tirciinpt and generous defence ; his Grace replied in a note, which 
Mr. Forsyth has inserted, and which may safely weigh down 
many volumes of calumny. 

.Stronger evidence to character was never delivered, and yrt Sir 
Hudson Lowe locked Uiis up in his bureau with other dek-nccs 
equally convincing, an<l went duwn into the grave iu silence, 
onhonoarcd, unpcnsionc<l, and calumniated to the hour of his 
dealb, leaving to others the rescue of his reputation. Never did 
ati injured man purKUc a more injudicious course. He cannot 
hear Die reversed opinion of an uubiassed generation, should that 
tMiIt be obtained, or draw cunsolaltou from the lardy justice 
rhieh may clear his characlc-r. He died iu lB4.i, in the seveuty- 
fiAh year of his age, leaving his family ill-provided for, allhougU 
be w&s accused of having amassed a fortune. His unmarried 
daagbter, through the recommcudaLion of Sir Robert i*eel, re- 
ceived a small pension fi-ora her Majesty, " in recognition of tho 
»enicos of her father." Sir \V. Xapier i» unjust in his sevcro 
tlmce ou Sir H. Lowe for his loss of Capri in 1SQ7. Tho 
ftt should hare been maintained, but the fault lay not with 
the officer in command, who defended himself as well as he could 
tho means at his diaposajf and aiso made hoiiouT&\i\o Wnnft 



wlien com]>elIcil lo fenirender. There was Bometliing wrong Rnme- 
whcrc, bul !5tr Iliidstin, then Colonel Lowe, coul<! not forcsr:^c the 
Bbamt-'fiil miscouduct of the Maltese regiment which opeiicJ to the 
uneiny Ana Capri, the key of the Uland ; and the supiacncss of 
the naral department, which suflbrcd the island, after a siege of 
ten days, to fall into thft hands of an enemy nasnpported by a 
fleet, and who might have be«n easily cut off and sarrounded bj 
the English cniizers. To this unaccountable negligence the loss 
of Cnpri must be attributed, while the conduct of Sir Hudson 
Lowe WU& wanniy cotuuieoded and approved by his superiors. 
Twenty years later, it wns rather hard to he abused by a brother 
soldier for an event which had first brought him into notice, and 
became a stepping-stone in his subsequent promotion. It was 
unquestionably di&creditnble to Kngland, the queen of llic seas, to 
lose a mnntimu post which she desired in koep ; and still mure so 
not lo recover it, at the opportunity of 1^09, when the large army 
and fleet under Sir Julin .Sttiart entered the Bay of Naples, took 
Ischia and Procida, gave them up in a month, and made a gr«ftt 
show, but did notiiing. In fair dealing, (he fall of Capri should 
be fastened on the shonldcrs uf higher autliorities, and not on Sir 
Hudson Lowc'Sf wliich hare enough to bear without this uneuvi. 
able addition. 

During tlic whole period of Nannleon''B captivity, the governor 
scddom SAW htm, having been dnven from his presence by tlie 
most ofieusive violence, which be uettlier provoked nor retorted ; 
although a general impression prerailed, owing to systematic 
misrepresentation, that he constantly intnidod himself on tin- ex- 
emperor, when be had nothing else to do, for the mere wanton 
amusement of tormnmiug him by a quarrtd or a sciiie. Napo- 
leon, in his niomirnts of un impassion chI rellection, admitted that 
the breoeh had beeu made and widened by himself, and on his 
deatli-hed enjoined Bcrtrand and Monthulon to seek a recfm- 
ciliation nith Sir Hudson Lowe, by every means consistent with 
their honour. They called at Plantation liuusc in consequence^ 
and were courteously received, all previous misunderstandings 
being buried in oblivion. It cannot be said that Sir Hudson 
Lowe was a persou of elegant or prepossessing nmuners, neither 
were his subordinate satraps, Colonel Ileadc and Major Gorrequcr, 
exact types of Bayard or Sir Philip Sidney. In their inferior 
positions they were busy and meddling, and much more ou the 
qui-rire to magnify and encourage, than to hush up or smooth 
down a grievance or a complaint. Little and unskilful men, un- 
fitted for diincult or delicate negotiation, "llie writer of this 
article knew them well, and speaks from personal recollection. 

But the coanc and vulgar language which O'Meara cliarges 
on Sir Hudson Luwe as his habitual characteristic, and whieb, 
as Mr. Forsyth remarks, would degrade a BrilJEh officer of high 
rank iuto a sort of military Squire Western, a compoimd of 
vulgarity and ignorance, had no existence except in his own 
mendacious invention. Ilicre bare been governors, it is true, 
.R!fv somtsUmes rude and DDpolished-^nay, even brutal 








^ niK 

1b Ibt-ir colloquial style, of which tliosc ithn rcmcmbcT the late 
Sir 'ITiiiraafi Maitlaiiil, bdttir knou-n to all who have sened in 
llw! Mediterranean as " King Tom," may fono a tolerable idea 
it a apocimen. But tt»c Oovenior of St. Hi;kna was a very dif- 
famt kind of niaii from tlic aiitncrat of the Ionian Islands. He 
had DKVo of Belial in hia comfH>5ition, and though siiflicit'ntly 
abaolule, was snioolli ratlier than rough in liabitnal demeanour, 
and too ]Tracueal a diplomatist to lie eitNily thrown ofT his guard, 
or aobdued by a hasty temper. Wo oncu heard an ufficer of his 
ftifl', who diulikcd hiui, and funned one of the gjirristin of St. 
llcKma under his command, say, that to his certain knowledge 
<ihe itaual formula when jwople know very little] Sir Hudson 
Lowe carwl not a fig for public opinion or aiij'thing else, and 
thooght only of " feathering his own uest," Rut llio fact that he 
died poor, refutes the second charge, and Ihw papers so Redu- 
loualr preserved, on which his present vindication rusta, entirely 
Rpudiata the first. The whole subject resolves itself into two 
irtry nimplo fjueations, easily answered wbeo prejadice and pro- 
coDcetvL-d opinions arv thrown out of the inquiry. "Were Ibe 
Kn^iih lliniitr}' justified in treating Xapoleon Buonaparte as 
a priaooer of war P And did Sir Hudson Lowe in aiiv manner 
mc— d Iiiit iastructiuns ?" To tbe fii^t <)uery, we answer nnhesi- 
Ittfal^y, Yes — to the second, No. The chain of reasoning 
MiopBixl hy Mr. Forsyth, and dmwn from fact.9, will aatisfy all 
except ihoac (and they are a tolerably uumemua section) who are 
deCemnacd not to be connnced citlior by ailment or instance. 
Napolftoa* wbco he aurrendercd hiniKcIf to England, wa.H bunted 
iattt ft eo/ner, and hod no other resource. Escape was iuipos- 
nUe. Before him lay the ocean, with the passage to America 
blocked out by tiie English cruizers. Behind htm the dttch of 
VineeiUMS, to which the tender mercies of Ulncher would have 
coniigDed him, without trial; the dcfterla of Siberia, if he hod 
tmated to the raunied friendship of Alexander of Kuftsia; or the 
tribunal of N'ey and Labedoyt^re, had ho thrown liimt^elf on the 
clemency of Lout* te DfinirS. Failing to die at Waterloo, to 
retire- wilb the relics of thy Frfoch foR-cH behind tbe Ix>ire, might 
have been the licm'spari; Iml it must have ended in unconditional 
captiTity, as both nrmy and people were equally powerless in 
m bnd wlncb brititled with more than half a million of foreign 
bayonets. Uis calling hiniseirilic guest of England, and annoonc- 
IBK that be carac like Themiatocles to claim her hospitality, was 
an emitly theatrical flourish, as vapid, iind almost as ridiculous as 
Lorl Kllrnborongb's proclamation reliitive to tbe gates of Som- 
nanth. It imposed on no one — not even on himself He had fibown 
tliat he was not to be trusted; the Allied Powers bad declared that 
Ihey would nerer treat with him again, and it would have been 
faOy, amomiting to deep criminality, had he been allowed nnntbcr 
eppovtunity of uuBellliug tbe tranquillity of Europe- The triumph 
« Walerloo had been purchased by u general moumtog. But wo 
Bgnx: with Mr. Forsyth that the imin-rial title, on which he set so 
nitcb value, might iiAve beva accorded to him without dexogatt&g 



from tlic honour of Great HritAin. On his |Mrt, it was puerile aud 
woak, unworthy of bis lofiy iutellcct, to desire a mockery of royal 
state, wlien tlic substance )ia<t poKsed from him for ercr. It was 
(lejfratUng to a trarostic or a burlrsque the grand aiul gorgeous 
part lie had acted iu the drama of the world. It is tniu, Kiigland 
had been no party lo the Treaty of Fonliunebleau, which gave him 
the sovereignty of EIha, but \vc had recognised hiiu as First 
Consul at ibc Teace of AmieuK, in I80L ; the Whig Government, 
through their envoy. Lord I^uderdalo, treated with him as Emperor 
pf Fruticc fU facto, in J806, and it was by no fauli of theira that 
pacitic ovtrlures were broken off; we had negotiated with him 
at Cliiilillon in IS 11, and would have acknowledKed him as 
sovereign of France, had liu llien accepted the terms proposed. 
To call him General Buonaparte ailer all this, was a mere tech- 
nical quibble, unworthy and unnecessary in the politics of a great 
nation. Still more injudicious was it to refuse the incognito ho 
afterwards proposed and vrus anxious to assume; an easy mode of 
gettiuj; over many minor diflii-ullies, which j)roved the source of 
great vexation. Wo also ihinlt he should have been accommo* 
dated, on his arrival at St. Helena, with Plantation House, the 
best reRidonce in the island, insteod of Longwood, the second 
best. The convenience of the governor, in this instance, ought to 
have given way before that of his prisoner. There a|)pcars. too, 
sometliiiig mean and little in stinting the table and household 
expenditure of the cx-einpcror and liis family. They were kno\\-u 
to be supplied with funds, and aui];Io means of raising more ; 
they plotted and contrived means of escape; they adopted sub- 
terfuge and deceit ; and there were sonnd reasons for stringent 
regulations and uuremltting guard ; but none for humiliating 
discim&tons on the price of poultry, eggK, and meat, or fur a 
parliamentary debate as to whether the allowance for their supply 
should be eight, tun, or twelve thousand per annum. The ex- 
pense of keeping our great enemy at 8t. Helena was nothing, 
C<nuptTed with the enormous cost of the war from which we were 
happily delivered by bis detturonement. That point once accom- 
pUslied, fallen majesty had a nght to every sympathy and in- 
diligence, less for its own deseru than for the honour of the 
vielors. In the complaints to which minor vexations gave rise, 
there waK an appeanuiee of justice, which gave colour to others 
that were totally groundless. Napoleon would not have lived to 
old age anywhere. His hereditarv disease precluded longevity. 
But, undoubtedly, bia duaili was liastened by the circumstances 
of his confinement, the peqKtual state of irritation to which 
he abandoned bimsulf, and the habits of indolence he con- 
tracted, BO diametrically opposed to his constiiutional activity. 
For the French writers, as might he supposed, the subject has 
been an endless theme of invective against the Kugli:,}] Ministry 
and their selected governor. Tliey can find no terms sufHciently 
base iu which to convey their detestation of the unhappy official. 
He is a peqielual nitjliiniare to their rest — the hfte ?toirt: of tboir 
imagi nations. One French author alouo (LamartiuoJ has had a clear 



ion of the tnilh, and the courage to declare it houesilr. 
VVbt-rv lu' has fallen into partial mistakes, the en-or lias arisen not 
from prejudice, Iml from the necessity he was under orwinnowjuc 
oat the facts of the case from caluuinums statements, ratlier than 
wtbentic materials, aod thi» givnt additional weight and value to 
im opinion. 

Whether for good or evil, the name of Sir Hudson Lowe is 
iaseparably connected witli that of his illustrions prisoner. It is 
iotpossible 10 think of the captive wiihont recurring to the custo- 
dian. The chnin of events which hronght them into contact, 
while it led to tl>e mo«t important, undoubtedly produced llic most 
onfortunaie episode in the life of the latter. In the office he was 
called tn aud undertook, it was impossible to g^vc entire satisfac- 
tion, or to escape without calumny. We do not belicTe that one 
mnn in ten, even of n superior stamp, would have done better 
uudcr the saine difficulties, or have had the moral courage^ or 
stoical insensibility, to leave his memory to posthumous vindica- 
tion, when he might have enjoyed the triumph of acquituil through 
fats own exertions, and while he yet lived In feel and estimate 
its value. Sir H- Lowe has found an able advocate, but prcju- 
dieod jud^ourut has taken such deep root, from time and the 
absence of contradiction, tlmt «>ven the inoKt palpable evidence 
may be foond uneijual to its ovcrlhruvr. The huinp of Itichurd 
the Third is a poetical imagination, *' a thing demised by his 
uneroie*,'* but il nas been too long fixed on him to be removed. 
fie will never be relieved from it ; neither can we persuade our- 
selves that be was itinncent of the ntiirder of his ncphcus, nlthongh 
the proof of hU K"''^ '" utterly di-fi:ctive, and tlmt atrocity was 
qtiite OS likely to have been per)>etratcd by his successor. 

Towartls the eloso of his uork, Mr. Forsyth draws an able and 
impartial mmmary of the character of Napoleon, which he o|>cns 
by oWeTTing, that a writer ought lu be dtflident in attempting to 
dc(icril>e the moral liucanients of one who, in all leading features, 
ao Uttie resembled, and bore such slight affinity to ordinary beings. 
Thr subject has been so amply discussed by able pens, that it is 
di/Brult to invest it witli novelty, or to avoi<l n>))elitiuu. 

■When we turn from tlie consideration of his characler and en- 
dowments to the acoons by which both were illustrated, we find 
Ihrm brilliant and imposing, whetliur in the capacity of general 
or legiiJaior, beroiid any other example in tlic annals of history. 
But examine closely their eflecfs on llio condition of mankind, 
and Ihe true picture presents itself in hideous deformity. 

Even warlike France became at la'st weary of battles, which 
appeared to multiply with each successive victory; and the first 
foil of Napoleon in 1614 may l>e attributed quite as much to the 
apathy of llie people, who look«d on with passive submission, and 
llie exhausted spirit of the armies and generals, who longed for 
an iutcnal of repose, as to the nveru helming rush of invading 
(brcigoers, accnmulatcd in masses which rendered resistance 

roc xxxi'/. 





VOX eoyaBwcnm moau — a coman aavtsTim. 

I eoDLD aotbut wonderT aa I enteisd the hall, wbat my reeeptimi 
n^t be, cnnongst the body of wfakh I was now a nember. £ 
felt feverish and nervous ; in Aort, the very antiLheais of my friend 
with the capacious waistcoat. I envied hun his aelf-possession,. aa 
he forced hnuaelf edgeways through bbe door of this cab^ giving 
sundry ordeva to tfae books m wsudag,. and exbending his hand la 
the nTbane4oolciog landlotd, whose alBriea] cravat, cracked voice, 
and saaetamonious pbyaiognomy, nuiat ba well known to all 
commencial gentlemen. IWoiidan'e.: — ** WeU, how am yoa I and 
bow does the world, ase yoa } " was- sticangBly contrasted with the 
mwholesome "Extremely well, I thank yo%" of the proprietor of 
the inn^ and the clerical cravat a£ore notied. He bowed to 
me giBciouely, rubbing his hands in true pharisaical style, 
whilst the chamber-maid asked me whether I widied to see my 

Mr. lUordan took up my answer in a manncs so obliging, that I 
really felt indebted to him for his goodness.. 

" Mtist decidedly he does," he said, as be divested himself of 
his great coat and muffler, casting them upon the arm of ths 
boots, who looked for all the world as if he had been reared 
under a sloe bush, and fed upon vinegar and moripe crabs. 

** Would you wanti him . Here, Fanny, bring my writing-case 

into the commeicial room ; get my letters neady, and serve tbom 
up before dinner, embalmed in smiles. Woold you want him to 
eome into a bouse on a day like this, with the ' blues' iu the 
atmosphere, only to go out again with the * blues ' in his system. 
Mary, put me into * twenty -two Mf it *s not engaged, and give my 
friend (111 tell you his name when I've learned it) sweet little 
seventeen. Ah ! how do you do, Miss Palmer i " this to a lady 
who evident}^ acted in the capacity of housekeeper, whose figure 
was something like that of a well-preserved Egyptian mummy, 
and whose age was as great a paradox to me as are the hiero- 
glyphics to the uninitiated ! " Why, you are looking charming. 
Ah ! it 's well for you that my wife is in the land of the living." 

" Why so, Mr. Riordan ? " with such a spectral smile. 

" Because I'd be sure to plague you to change your name for 
the one tltat calls me master. How soon will the dinner be 

"At live o'clock. Sir." 




•Th* Ttry hour to suit me ; 1 '11 jnst look at my eunnttraancc in 
tbe gfaa ufjntiirs, whilst you dust (lie cobwt'hs nff* llie port. 
Slmr ns to oor xe$pvuUT« flnimbers, Maiy,** sarrnp wliich, he 
tammmetd the Mccnt, ft)ltovre(] closelr by me,'ullung merrily 
all dv Umc, usil I was usberetl into a bnlrooiiij wlA fleventeen 
■c in figarm nn tlm donr, utid th*?!^ left to my iinstrap[)e(! port- 
■infrwil. a wiuluii;; apparattis, and my nvn nr>iseltes neditalions. 

At fiw o^ciock 1 desceudvtl lu the ruoia rt>5crrcd for comiiiur- 
hU gandBDien. The dinner wsa alivady sprrcd, ntany sonts 
vcro occapiedf and the corns only amiting the si>pial of the 
prmdont, to be tnuisportcd to the sbehres m the kitchen. To 
mt Mliiiiiiliiniiii, Mr, Riordui (wboee calling I now rucn^^iiied) 
ntn^ ^ r^ ne by tunnc to the company. T tooltcd at biin with 
■111 ^R^te depictetl is luy countenance, at lie «ai'd : — 

** Ail ! Mr. Bnbbin, I've foa»d ywu out, you see ; but you look 
to Ainizetl, that I'm ft)iD«8l stfrnd yon hove been gnil^ of a 
tnAng feluoT.'* 

" Vrmx how is that ? " said I. 

** I)t<\ ytra open the portmanteaa that was bronght up into 
yvar zoonf" 


- U'm aU riglit and right ?» 

" Ifoqaeftionably ! " 

*^ Yoa nve anre it was yonm ? " 

" Well, I'm toclioed to think that it beioiiRS to nobody etse." 

"Oh. then if that is the rase, 1 acqnil yon of the chnrge. 
A* tha boots carried it upstairs I saw *Mr. Benjaimn Bobbin* 
wnUMm oo iu If that had happened not to bare been ymir name, 
}1M nmt iMRl that the ca&t* wuuld hnru lo^^kcd suF:picious ; but 
eone, ol imm. Mr. Lonier, our president, is awaiting your 


Ml. Lamer, who was seated nt tlie head of the table, at the 
aaxBO tinw politely asked me m (hvonr him by facing him at the 
ocfatrend; bot, as a curring knifb and fork and a large tureen 
plated thm, I beii^ed tn be excused. 

ITpMi what fj^ound*, Nh*. liobbin ? " he asked with a smile. 
Xds gtounds of iucapacity, and a villanous ignorance of dis- 
■actioa,** I answeied. 

** Oh ! if that is all, yon will soon Icam. Yon arc not aware, 
periMps, LboC you an- the ^mnf/ext in the room." 

** 1 am not nwleed," 1 repbud, as I glanced at one or two who 
van; evidently my jnnincs. 

" We do not judge by years," said the ]>re*ident, in the most 
aAible tone, ** but iKMirs ; by fotmgeat I mean that yon iiru the 
klesiarrival in ibe room ; consequently, by our mlcs, that chair is 
your place. Po oblige me.*' 

1 oWyed with the best grace. TIic corers were removed, rc- 
rralin)^ fish at the top, and mock turtle at the bottom of the tabic. 

Ui.fl^iensing the cuutuutit ol' thu turueii fell tu my lot ; and so far 
I was comfortable ; but when I came to the disjointing ot Q.VI 
■uiqnued lurJtar, doubtless a patriarch, and as anoma\ou«f as tat 


as regarded age, as the respected Miss Palmer complimented by 
Mr. Uiordaii, I foiiud timl a strong amii wilhonl gkill in lliu craft 
was but a. wttak opponent to lUews and sinews firm in tlieir tension 
and herculean in iheir deTclopnicnt. U'bat tbe end migbc have 
been I know not, bad not my alFable travelling companion, who ttat 
bcRidc uie, cut tbc reverend monster to pieces, and set bim deci- 
mated before me. The dinner passed off well, and the wine was, 
in luy opinion, pretty good ; but an announcement from ifr. 
Lomcr that an extra six bottles were to be placed upon tbe table for 
tbe general consumption, and ibe price ihercorsel down in my bill 
jbr my own liquidation, was an honour for which I was totally un- 
prepared. liowever,as tbe evening was rery wet, audi was assured 
that ray after prospects upon the road were aliofjether dependent 
npon my quiet and amiable submission to tbc initiatory line, 1 garc 
tbe order cheerfully, and we commenced forthwith to discuss, 
literally, the peculiar merits of tbe beverage. 

My attention became speedily aroused by one of our party sug- 
gesting, in the course of tbc fourth bottle, Uiat Mr. Lomur, uur 
president, should set us a convivial example by singing a song. 
The gentleman so called upon pleaded inability, inasmuch as 
melody and his voice were strangers. "■ However," he continued, 
** 1 shall feel delighted in beinp permitted to while away an hour of 
your time by relating an incident that occurred under my own ob- 
senation in my early days, when I, like our young friend here, 
commenced my first journey. If such a course meet with your 
approbation, gentlemen, you have only to command me ; aud my 
story and myself are your servants." 

llie anecdote so generously volunteered met with unanimons 
approbation. We drew our chairs more closely to the table, and 
awaited his pleasure witli silent eagerness. However, there was 
a Komelhing coming, we all saw, before tbe story ; for he refdted 
bis glass carefully, and, rising to bis feel, said: — 

" Gentlemen, before I enter upon mv own experience I wish to 
propose a toast, in which I am assured you will heartily join me ; 
therefore I charge you to rest prepared. We have a young brother 
amongst us this evening; one that I feel .issured will, before lung, 
become an ornament to our fr.ntcmity. None of ns have passed 
ibu meridian of life, yet tbe greater number of us have left bis »^e 
some years behind us upon that great journey. We have all had ■ 
some exporionco, for he is the only begiimer in tlic room. Wish- I 
ing him every prosperity, and promising him in the name of our 
body a hearty welcome, I give you, gi-nUeuicu, the name of Mr. 
Benjamin Bobbin, in conjunction witli success, good fortune, and 
houourublu enterprise. May he sund forth as a sbining light in the 
commercial world ; become a treasure to the house he at the 
present tirae has the honour of representing, and prove an 
incsrimable prize to the fair lady whose good luck it shall be tn 
win him in the great hymenean loiter}'. Brethren, bid him wel- 
come ! " 

" Success and welcome to our young brother 1 " was reiterated 
around me, whilst the (oast was drunk with unbounded enthusiasm, 





»o lie klight liisarrangemcnt of the liononrcd iiKliridual's ideas, 
utdtiio spfi'dv elevation of liis tiei-sonal vanily. 

VV hiUt the jfroilcmaii who huh proposud tho loosl was taking a 
brief iiioinLMil U) collect liis tlioughis, I availed myself of the op- 
ponunity affurded, and niado tim following obsenationa. 

Mr. Lumcr was a tall, well-proponionod man. rather more in- 
diot^ to the corpulent than its opposite, bnt by no lueaus given to 
~*"i»iiy. He wai about the middle age; with a solid expression 
_ calculating good sense sLiinjied upon his fentures. His hair, 
viliskere, and eyes were black ; the latter remarkably penetrating. 
A plcjibing dimple Jii liis «bin overruled the steady gravity of his 
classic face ; whilst a high and expansive forehead, pariially bald 
at ttic temples, taken in unison with a well-shaped nose, and a 
luouih babilaally ornamented by a smile, gave to his countenance 
an tupcct of frankness, inlegrily, and decision; in short, lie was 
one ol those men in whose bearing we re-ad, what Kent would fain 
hare called Master, " Authority." lie was evidently no subordi- 
nate, for 

" Sccmcil bt> tone and gesture bliuiil, 
Leu used to lue than to comoiand." 

He refilled hi« glass, and, having glanced round the room for a 
UDomenl to Ke whclliGr wc were all attention, with a preliminary 
"abeiD,*' thus began. 

" When I first coiumenced travelling, — and thntT need scarcely 
tell you was many yenra ago,— although an Englishman by birth 
uid cdncation, yet it was a wholesale house in the delightful 
city wf Dublin that had the honour (as brother Uiordan would 
•ay) of calling Mr. Frt'deriek Loiner its representative. Kailvrnys 
bad not then been introduced into that country, and the old 
mail-cuacbes were in tho bloom of their pride. As 1 look back 
Bt that, my first journey, it senms as fresh in ray memory as if I 
bad started bat lust week — the years that have intervened appear 
like so naoy days — but tliua it is ever with youth. How true 
iJie words of one of onr poets — 

" Titae in advance bcliitul liiin \tUie» liii wings. 
And s««'(ns to creep decrepit vidi his a^e : 
Brhold hiiD, when p«it l^y ; «hni ilivn is npcd, 
But liu liruad pinions swifter tbsn the wind !" 

"How inconsistent is man ! \Vv. chide Time for his slowness 
when any pleasure is in anticipation, and regard his swift flight with 
reyret when wo look back upon the past. But to my talc : upon 
the box-scat of a night mail, bounil fur tho city of Liracnck, and 
l»y the side of a jolly-looking coachman, I found myself one even* 
~~ ifartably wrapped up in a wnterproof overcoat, and buoyed 

_^ all thchopca of ardent youth. How vividly every circnm- 

utaiMie connected with that journey is presented to my memoiy ! 
ud yet the days thnt have since flitted by have changed my slim 
Ifiare, and four- nnd-twcnty -inch waist, into the subject upon vtecb 
you are all so atteativeiy goMJug^ and commeuced a\TewiY \.o 


B|>rmk1e a &v tcU-tolc hnirs, like tbc ho&r frosts of Autiimti^ 
amid the black locks, wUcre t-bo host Bcenbed pomntaai tlica 
rcigiicJ Hiiprt^tiie:, in all tl»: dignity of Itixuriant tsarh. 

" Vt'e ruttlcd gaily in the wajec o£ oiir galUnt greys pwt Trinity 
College — tluit hotbed uf gemus, volntility, piety, aod devilment — 
by the Bnak of Irelaiul, tiirough Wcstniorulnaid -street, over Cnr- 
liiile Bridge, up S«ctvillc-«treet, that street of IriHh «treeti, imd 
into the yard of iiic Geitcnd Post-office} heralded on our way by 
the sounds of the merry burn, and buoyed up with tho prospert 
of s\ liiie cl«ir night. Wc recraved tlie maU-bags in due oonne, 
and as the clock tolled forth the appoiDted hour, the gates leading 
into Qcnry-atrect were opened; beneath iko nvbwny we pssaed, 
tlie oentre of nearly a «core of well-appointed coaches, bound npon 
dUGsrent iwitca, Uii'Oug;h gnpiog lonii|ror8t ^ho were ever present 
to enjoy the exciting scene— down Sackville-fftrect agnia at m 
sportiof; pnce, still culivoiicd by the guard'& bhrill music^ titc rat- 
tlijif; c^ the bnrnishcd tmppinga dcooratiug onr horses, and the 
proud ucighiiigs of two fiery leaders. 

" Directly behind uie sat a man of largo proporiious, well 
vmppefl up in a grey frieze coat of aBtomshing thickness, his 
bend ensconced in a thick trnvcUiiig cnp, and his extremities com- 
fortiibly girathcd in warm drab arcrallH. I i i^ face, at least so much 
of it as I could see, was not of the most wiiiitome ciut — thick black 
wluBkerji and :i rebellious looking beard gi^iog to a rcnmd saihrr 
oountenHnce a coarse and dork expresoou — liis eyebrows were 
hcan' and conuectod, and a pair of snapicious-looking huxel eyes 
glanced distrustfully fi-oin beneath them at a gentleman wito sat 
beside liim. Ilis companion was a man of tdn^nlar appem-aiice; 
he WH» tnll, tliiu, nod dressed in a shabby bUck frock coat, closely 
buttoned up to bis chin, the smallest particle of a soiled white 
neckerchief being risible between the coat collar and his ears; 
a white bufthy beard fell over upon the hippds of his coat, giving 
to his face a reverend and patriarchul appearance. His h«t 
had cfidently done its owner some Hcr%'ioe, for it seemed to 
have undergone a process of iraraereion in some raly subftnuee, 
and that at repented intervals. A pair of wclNwom snble contt- 
nuHtions completed his exterior garb, strnpped as if by some 
superhnmHQ furce bcncalh a pair of dilnpidatod shoes, tliat might 
with justice have wk1>«I ^^ their " lost soles." And yet, with nil 
this appciirance of shabby gectility, this evident struggling against 
hard fortune. Us &ee bore :in erpresnoe of red^acion and sere* 
mty, and was as calm and unruffled as the purtang bottr of a plnoid 
twilight. Ho was, withont doubt, a diaracter— a stadj' — and I ■ 
determiuod if jKnaiblo to know more fliMiut him. ' 

"Tlie first time I had thecbanoe of survcnng his countenance 
was nt the town of Nans, where we ntcpifed 1o clmn«e horses. I 
had ordered a glass of whiskev punch during the brief stay that 
WB made, aud lisving reoimked tiiat he hail no outward garment, 
San* tlie closoly-buttoned frock ooat, to protect him tromthe cliiUy 
air of the night, I ventarod to roqnest his neeeptanee of a part of 
titc- aieamiug Said. Uv thaiJced me niitdly, and partook of it 






ftbnoit ftta^T. I WAS ^d to «ee lum do sa. itid as lie raturned 
nelbe tnmiUcr, the stnugccie&rnc^s vrbin eve somewlmt poEKlod 
me; it was reatlem, bright, and very foil, nnt at all in keqMg 
■iriii I with his pAtriarchitl l>ear(l or ren-niQd linbit. 

"Tlio ooadiwnui aoemed to he one of those pecnliur bipeds, 
nmaldcd cipresaly by mother Xnturc out of licr eoamest materuiis 
into the bumuu form (Jiviiiu» with odc idea and only one to hft tbnm 
above the lc\-el of the more aoimal, and place them npon the lowest 
*tcp of the ladder of inteUigence, for the pnrpoae of riliowiug how 
doM i« the afiioiti,- butirucn nil breathing creatures. Hia cicmcitt 
WM nndoitbtedly (if elcniaut it nwy be called) the driver's scat, the 
whip, the ribbons, and the hoii^aeflcah. U]Xtn the merits aad de- 
nerits of tbc Utter be warmly expatinted ; his mind, tike the 
bealCB raad lie travelled iu darkaasB, had also its stone wnllii and 
daep^jiicei un either sidle, and the sKghte^t deflection most iiie\-it- 
mhfy end eitbor in n full stop or a melancholy mentiU upaet. One 
Tirtuc be possessed in pcrfectioti — the virtue of being a quiet Ji»- 
tener, nud looking; wiaely between the ears of the far lender, ns if 
the subject in question were there set before him. Ha never pwv 
■mned to ofier an opinion; im ejacnlutiou of iturpnso, or a sober 
nod of coaoeptiou tunning the extensive vocahulari of hia e<in- 
vanational powers, eitcept, indeed, the subjoet olinncsd to turn 
DpOD Ilia favourite topic, then vii\s tbc stable uiind iu active motion, 
and he would take up the ranniaj^, and make the vinniag-post 

" I scarcely felt at home with so strat^e a oomposition be«dc me, 
Iwvhed to listen rather than to Hp(rak, nnd as tbc tmbject in 
my centaur companion dGlij;hted bad no charms for me, I 
derated mnetf encrgetioUly to the I'ragntut brentih of a ahart clay 
|ap^ Knd A silent cantcmphieion of the ^arkUng bodies that 
gtmflood the milky way. 

** I WM aroosed Irom myrerericby the coacinnim's elbow, which 
had taken a Hhertr of mtber a ftrUcinp; nature with my ribs. I 
Jmrisod at liim in ktirpriite, but felt sumeirhat rebe^ed, b« he only 
fiannted with hiji whip to nu ulil house that stood, or wrs pninped 
np, At eo«Be distasiee fttaa the road. It was a iine old building, 
and doobtleai iu its di^ had rcraunded to many a hearty chorus. 
?iifiw it was a mere ruin ; the bright cava of the nuclauded movn 
lighting up the green i«^ ns it clung clnsely to the mouldering 

*" Wluit'a the matter?' I asked, in atone of aatoiulmient, for 
his pocnliar method of gainiug my atbentian had wiowhflct an- 
noyed me. 

" ' Do Ton aee that ould bonse, maather?' 

"* Yes,' I ace it ! wluitthen?' 

*">4athin'1 only Ae owned it.* 

* A spasmodic tnitch of hi* bend ha the dircctioB of the aeody 
tniTcllerf acoompacned by a wink, inteudeil, witfaoat a pnrttole at 
dovbt, to ccmvc^ meaning of ^n^itee imjiurt than any kiiuwn hm- 
ctMild coiopn«8, was the obIt solntdon to the mjvturr. 

*'• ^'eU, sod trbat of that P 1 'mkmL 

H himsel 



*' ' Oh ! that 's all,' was his rpply — ' onlv you sec thnt he and the 
house have beeu runnin' at a kilUn' pncc for the \ast fivc-au<l> 
tvfcnty year, to ace wliich of them would he ruiucd fust,' 

"I looked iiuuiudiatdy tunurds the straugcr iii ijucation — the 
pnoeh had evidently taken effect upon his shattered constitution. 
Ud slept auuudly. 

" ' was he ever well off 'r' I ventured to ask. 

"* Illigant!* waa his oomprehensivc reply. 

" * Indeed !' I said, Bomcwimt dubiously. 

" ' It 's the truth 1 'm tclliii' vo ; he lived like a figlilJn' cock, or" 
the son of an Irish king — hut the dhrink and the hor-U-^ did it.' 

"' How vras that?' I asked, feeUug cousidur&bly interestvd in 
the story. 

'* Another twitch of the head in the other direction, followed by — 

" * Story telliu' is out of my line ; Mr. O'Connor 'II tell you all 
about it ; ' was my only means of Jntroductiou to the 
directly behind me in the frieze coat. 

" I ri!pciiicd ii]y question tu him, trusting at the same time that 
he woidd pardon my curioflity. 

" ' Oh ! by bU meauo,' was his speedy rejoinder; ' I HI tell you 
all about it, an' welcome. 1 lived with him at the time.' 

" ' I shall be much indebted to you, iheu,' I said, ' for the coach- 
man has aroused my sympathy.' 

" ' No wonder for him,* was his curt reply. 

"•What was her I enquired. 
tt I ~ - 

ft t 


'* ' A poor divil of a curate, with lashins to do, and only the lovo 
of Uod, and fifty pounds a year to live on,' lie r<?plicd. ' But he 
was tt fine young guntlemau ut that time; the best preacher, the 
surest shot, and tlie boldest horseman in the barony. Generous 
as poverty and his little ealary would let him be, and a re^lat 
teurer amongst the Indies. He married one of them at last — r 
beauty she was, and owned that house, with lots of the ready. So 
when he came there to live with her, ho cut tbc putpit aud tuok to 
the betting ring. Joe the conchy,* alluding to the driver ' lived 
with liim then, and used to break in all hts horses. I was hia 
steward at the samo time, and that's how wc knew all about it. 
Hut somehow or other bad luck used always to attend his bets, for 
whenever ho backed a racer of his owu it was sure to lose. The 
last of his that ran upon the CuiTngh — let me sec, how lung is that 
■ago, Joe?' 

"' Fivcand-twenty year, come spring.'was tho simple rejoinder. 

*" Yes, five-and-twenty year ago it was! Well, the last of his 
that ran there was a darling ; he christened him Fire-away 
Paddy. He was gut by ould 131n?.es (uf course you have heard tell 
"fliini) out nf I>ady llagerty's brown marc Judy.* 

" ' She was the best blood in the country,' broke in the coach- 
-•^•■iiplly, 'got by Flyaway out of Touch-me-not; dam, Jiil- 
■f arcf Shew-em-your-tail I' 

" * Only a journeyman soul-saver at first.' fl^l 

'• ' Ah I and what was that ?' I asked, in aa great a maze sf-^ 




•"Well, »a I was saying,' contiuued Mr. O'Counor, as soon aa 
Joe bad relieved himself uf bis luad of kauvledgc, and sighed at 
xhe tbougbta of the noble brutes he had named — ' a finer animal 
tbui Fire-away Paddy never looked at a inauger, or put his 
bead out of a stable door: he was alxtecn hands and tbree- 
qoartcn high—' 

" ' Seventeen an* an inch/ grunted Joe. 

" ' — Was aa black as a coal, with pasterns like a lady's wriat/ 
cODlinucd O'Counor. 

^' ' More beautifuller than that,* said coachec in a state of abso- 
lute excitement ; ' his head vas as sweet as a jennet's, his bocks 
smooth as a mouse's skiu, his quarters round and sthrung, and bia 
shonldbcr — there, I can't tell you what it was like — but it wa* a 
shouldhcr ; by my soukins I never seen the likes of it afore or sense* 
— here Joe paused lor breath in an ucstaey of adniiraliun at the ro- 
coUection of the horite, leaving Mr. O'Connor to continue at leixnrc. 

" ' VV«U, tbougli we said nothing about it at the time,' resumed 
Mr. O'Connor, leaning fornard so that not a word mi^ht be lost, 
* we knew that the second horse on the course would only got 
one sight of bim, and that would be, when he was leaving bim 
behind bim at the startin^-pust. Well, the master bet all he was 
worth on him, and got one Jemmy Ryan to ride him ' — 

" ' And he cwtid ride,' interposed coachy ; ' he was a clever hoy, 
an* up tu his business; he bruk his neck six months after at a 
•tceplo-chase in the Kin^s county, and never rode no more afther 
tbat'— -bere he paused again, and adniiniKtcred, by way of aym- 
pathy, a cut upon the ilank of bis near leader. 

" * Wbtm the day came olf,' continued the good-humoured Mr, 
O'Connor, ' Fire-sway Faddy walked on to the course; tlie divil 
a sinner, barrin ourselves, ever set eyes on him before— you 
TCTOcmber that, Joe.' 

" ' In coarse 1 do ! faix, they were all taken clane niT their legs 
wben tbey sean him looking round him, and neighing, and 
sviCcbing his tail, as much as to say that he didn't care a d — 
d>out any of them; nor no more he did.' 

".Hero Joe fell back again into silence; hia friend proceeding 
■a though no interruption had taken place. 

" 'Thoy all looked, when they saw hiro, as if the race was over, 
and their money lost. Jemmy Ryan got on bis buck, and rode 
him out of the weighing ground, up and down hefure the Grand 
Stand, to let him stretch his legs a bit. The Lord Lieutenant 
vaa there, and all the qunUty from Dublin; and when he saw 
bow bcantifuily he took to the reins, down he comes to the 
Muter, who was iu the betting ring, and say* — " Mr. Fitegerald, 
wiJl you Bell rae that horse ? " * 

"'No, he didn't call him Mr. Fitzgerald till after,' broke in 
Joe again, 'this is how he did it: " will you lie aftlier Nclling me 
that horse?" says he; " in Ihroth an' I won't," says the Masther, 
** for he'll be the making of me this blcsicd day, as sure as rny 
nanie is Filagerald." " Oh. then, Mr. Fitzgerald," says he, " since 
you're so sure about it, I'U bet you n thousand against iW \^unCt 


that be does -net get pltoed."" "Done" flay« &e Mantber, " when 
he wins, the thousand pounds is mine." ^ AuA irtien he kwes," 
sms the If^d Lieotenaut, *' the hflrse and the money is mine." 
** Yon Ve just said it," says the Mastftter, and the never so much as 
"yffor boBonr," or " your glory," he said to bim the whole mortal 
time — thafs how it was.' Joe was silent again, O'Connor in ihe 

'^■'The Irorses started — ■Idiere was fifteea of them' — 

" ' Seventeen,' suggested Joe, with a grunt. 

«' No, fifteen.' 

'''I'll tak« -my book oa:th there was seveirteen,* vetirmed Joe, 

" * "Well, sereartcen of them 5 and it was a beanltfal si^ to see 
tbem coming id; full stretch by the stand. Fire-away Paddy six 
lengths ahead of the best of them.' 

** * Six 1 ' ezbknmed Joe, tuniing round for the first time — ' put 
oat your hand, amd thry if you ain't in bed, and dhraming — he 
was twenty afore any of 'em, if he was an indh ;* aintftber out to 
the horses, and O'Connor once mwe in possession. 

" ' Well, he was ahead of the best of them ' — 

" ' Doing it ra aisy,' said Joe, ' as if he -was cmiy airin' himself 
afore his breakiast.* 

" ' Away they went,' resmned O'Connor, * and be Rke a sty- 
rooket' — 

" ' A flash of Hghtnin',' suggested J'oe. 

" ' Like a fiash of lightning before them, and sure enough at the 
first turning he said good bye to them, and beat t&em out of a 
face. On he -came again in beautiful style '' — 

" * By himself all jdone,' said Joe, now using the whip ,as though 
he were himself the jockey. 

" ' Straight for the winuing-post, when a hullabaloo in the 
crowd made the divil bowlt clean out of the oourse, and before 
little Jemmy could got a poll at his head, the otber horses came 
round, and Mr. Fitzgerald was beggared ! 

"'Thunder and tiirf! how he raved abont the ring, for all the 
world like a man out of a madhouse. I tried, and so did Joe, to 
quiet him down, but it was all no use : he had bet his house and 
inrniture upon the race; all was gone, and his wits after them. 
He paid bis debts honourably, however, and went home with us 
for the last time as Fire-away Paddy was pat into a vam £ot 
Dublin, and carried from the field.' " 





LrATOto my con|uiniona and tbe cab at ihc comer of the 
itivet, I ibuiul viy wax into the Bpartmcnt called by Mr. DariB 
tbe Lifarary. Twu buuk-cascM nich glnas doarsj and « goodly dii- 
plKT of medical and ntlicr works, gave it a. Icgituaatc claim to this 

" VitSl, sir," said the proprietor of tliia little library, " rou tan 
in want of a sttuntioo. I have notbiug for you to do t-carcely; 
but i want tnuiic one to stop in the houst; wLec I go onT, and to 
rtiljifir a iinr dcaagbtii every aitt^rnoaa. The ^rnnd question 
ia ; can ytm rend my ^vriting i ilore ia a prescriptiou. ],et me 
hear yoa read it." 

** Recipe aqtuc vita:," I began, taking the prcscr^tion in my 

** Bead it in Eii^sb." said lie, " I can nndcrstnnd it better, 
alllie^k i wrote the Latin myself." 

" Take of the best bntzidy lour ouuccb,"' I rtad. 

" Wltut sort of ouTiccB?" very gravclv asked Mr. Dsvia. 

''FhudoiBMaa,afo«inrse,'* LcepltecL "JJoiliii^vrater,fourotuioeB 
and H half; irhitc sagnr, quantum suff. ; that is, aa toueh as yon 
Vkc Mix these ingredients togcthec, lot them he ewallowed at a 
■ula ■'""p>**'j and the >dose be repeated every half hour until the 
faftwnt •anmot tell his heud from Iris hroln. In this snttsJactovy 
flate {daoe Um in bod between two blankets^ nnd let him lie like 
a fag imd next day.'' 

** That will do, Mr. Arden, I aee yon can manage tlie writing 
rerr ireil. I suppose you have a good, cbanicter. Your appcar- 
anec pleases me very much — but 1 give very httle salnry. 1 can 
feaU/gct j>ovBg men for uothing, there's such au abundance of 
them. Vfiatt salary do you expect 7" 

■^1 Inve heard that you give no more than fivo-and-twenty 
pomdt ft year," I replied; " but, as the uionr-y is of little conae- 
y*-** to me, I inll be contented with tbat som." 

"Then that is concluded. I want you bcre on Monday. I 
suppose you can give inc some reference in town. I dou't tbink, 
•a ncoud thoughts, I shall make any ioiqmry abont you. You 
are a student at Saint Peter's, art you? VerygontleraniUy fellows 
used to be Ibcrc in mv roung days. Too gar, too gav, though, bf 

The old fellow grinned and tumcd np bis eyca with nn cxprea- 
non that plainly eaid, " I wrs a One feltmv theu, a. lutd wild 
Aog, and all thrt; but a fine fellow, on my honour, sir, I was! 
a very fine fellow." I had no inclin-'ition to dispute the paiat 
vilh him^ iiud. indacd, he woe a iiuc fellow still, iill\um^\i hi& a.\^e 
ma m kf not bt Jem thxa tirty. He was one of those {urtuuAtc o\A, 


fellows whose society Kad become almost neccssarj* to a certain few 
old Indies, whose aJttectioii for him vm iiiccssnntty displayed in 
handsome presents; and at tUeir deaths by substanlinL legacies. 
These uico old ladie» Ktockcd liirn by degrees with bouses mid 
money; the houses they fttcckcd with furniture, &nd hin stnbles 
mth carriages and horses. His tables and mantel-sbclTcs were 
stocked with omamcuts of rare and costly shape and materials; 
his walls were stocked with pictures; his larder was stocked «ith 
delicacies; his fiD;<^ers were stocked with rings; his stocks stocked 
with pins and brooches; and his shirts stocked with studs by these 
charming old ladies, uhoiie study appeared to be directed entirely 
. to insure his emolumeot and grntification; while the dear, nmiable 
old things themselves thought they could scarcely pay him suffi- 
ciently for the unnecessary attention* tUey required from him. 
Honest old Indies! What a fortunate thing it is to possess an 
aiuialile manner, and an accommodating temper! What childish, 
unpn>titni)ie things, compared w ith tbcm, arc the labours of genius, 
and the speculations of iuduBtnoiis talent ! bubbles that melt in 
air, grains of salt cast into the ocean I 

I returned to my companiouK in the cab, and sending away the 
vehicle, we directed our steps towards the West, at the invitation 
of Mr. Wilson, who was so grnteftd for the loan of Tom's coat and 
waistcoat, and the drive in the cab, that he volunteered to give us 
a dinner at n tavern, with wine to wash it down. He strutted 
about in his borrowed hnery to the amusement of everybody, 
nodding and winking at all the girls he met, whether respectable 
or not, and asking all sober-looking old gentlemen how their 
mothers were, and whether their mangles were disposwl of. Vou 
should have seen Mr. Wilson admiring the reflection of himself in 
all tlic windows of plate glass as he passed by — at one time ar- 
ranging a stray curl, at another discovering the corner of a very 
dirty shirt collar, which he immediately concealed; and at another 
observing a spot of soot upon his face, which he bruslied away 
with the sleeve of his coat, his pocket-handkerchief lieing too 
shabby to be brought to light in the public street. 

Tom was by no means so well pleased with the exchange of 
dress. Instead of looking like a dandy of the first quality, in Mr. 
Wilson's coat, he looked like un old clothcsman, with bin last pur- 
chase on his back. 

" I say, Mr. Wilson," said he, looking at the threadbare sleeve, 
'* is this coat made of cloth or some stuff that never had any nap 
upon it? and what was its original colour?" 

" The material is the finest broadcloth, and the original colour 
v«8 black," replied Wilson. 

" By all the changing accnes of life, changes and exchanges I 
it mi;,'Iit have been broatlcloth, aiul black once, but it looks very 
like camlet and brown now," observed my friend. " Extremely 
cold, Arden, I wish yon would lend me your cloak." 

" I had rather not, I am obliged to you, Fumival, but I will 

pay for three cigars, if you will come into this shop," said I, lead- 

w^ the wny. In this idle manner we loungcii the time away 

aatiJ four o'clock, wlica we sat down, at a twenx \ii vVic <i\iWV\I^* 






of Pimlico, to a dinner of mutton chops and n bottle of good old 
port. The eatnbles soon (lisappcnred, and a second bottle of wiue 
succeeded the first, — "An iiucunimoDly good nntured fellow," 
Tom whispered to roe; " a regular triunp, by wisdom and whirt 
ind dend silence in a church-rard ! — Hand the baccy this way, 
Mr. Wilson. You are a geutlemaii, aitliough you wear nnolher 
nau's coat on your back, and your own sit^i with an ill grace on 
my shouldcM. If you have no objection, I '11 pull it off aad 
mume my owu," 

" Not until we depart, Afr. Puruival, if you please. I feel so 
vnconunonly genteel in tliis smart cut of youra, that it voiild spoil 
■U my pleasure if I should pull it off, and sit here in my own 
ahmhby one. Besides, it would look so ridtctilons to lie changing 
coaU here. The people would suspect us of some kuaver\' or 
other. I must wear your coat until wc leave tlic house, and you 
niust vear miuc. You can't think how well yon look in it- 
better ttiau many a nobleman with a first-rate article from Stultz*s, 
vhcns the tailor makcK the man — on the contniPi*, yonr splendid 
fi^re and general appciraucc would make the tailor. Once 
when I was out of a situation, and hard up, sir, I was staring 
iotu a tailor's ahop window, in Kegcut-stnict, wishing for a new 
suit of toggery, for my own wore in the autumn of their days, 
when I observed a little man measuring mc with his eye, and 
eiaminiug all the good points about mc mth intense interest. I 
thought he waa quizzing my shabby exterior. ' Sir,' said I, 
* whea you bare made yourself perfect master of my extensions 
and dimcDsions, you may order mc a new suit to cover them, of 
becoming Intitude and lougitude, for I am out of place, and have 
BO pennon.' 'Tou are an origiiiid ! ' said he ; 'it you arc accom- 
moaatiug yon shall he suited.* 'What!* said I, 'in broad- 
cloth and velvet ? ' * Ye*,' said he, ' come alonp.* 

"Well, do yon know, not a little bewildered, I followed him 
iuto another tailor's shop, not far off; and there he skipjicd over 
the counter, and pulled out two or three superb coats, waiiitcoatx, 
and trowwrs. ' These will fit you to a nicety,' said he ; ' I want 
to create a »euaation, and instead of sticking a wooden ligurc at 
Boy shop door, witli a shapeless coat tightly fitted over its broad 
fthouldcTn and tiniall iraiiit, I want a living tiguro of the best pro- 
portion, to display my style of fitting and cutting upon. 1 will 
^TC you one of those suits, if you will stand at my door every 
day for a month, Sundays excepted, from ten in the morning till 
nine at night. Y^ou shall have a goiaea a week likewise. Vou 
are to stand at the door as much like a wax fi^ire as posiiitilu, and 
hold a handful of circuliu^ iu one hand, and this advertisement in 
the other.' 

" 1 hadn't a shillinR left to pay my lodgings with, or for the 
next day's diuucr, no 1 closed with him at once, aud dressed my- 
»elf in the gayest suit of the lot. * I may as well do the thing 
properly,* uiid I, looking at myself in the swing glnas, where I was 
eibibited at fuU length — ' send fui: some carmine to improve m^ 



*' In about haU aa hour T was post«4l outAub, with tlie circnLirs 
in oae luutd^ and a large piece of paatcboaril ia the ocht-r, aa- 
Bouncing to eTcrybody that Mr. Figgins'a cmpnriutn for fr<;ntle- 
nen'a cluthe» vhkh inside, that bts styl« o( cutting ami tit was 
fluperior toevcrythiug iu art, and that his prices were extravagnotly 
economicnl ! I thought there tros no uso in looking like n Ijviug 
man, so I atood like a statue clad in. »)leudid raiment. ^\licn I 
moved, I did it like an automaton. The hidics lookefl at mc as 
t)\ey pa-iscd, and exclaimed, * How natural I' *^Like life itself' 
said a youD(f sculptor; *it ia astonisbing hov paint and hair will 
maku a Htutuc LmitAtc life' ' A ciLpital imitation/ said a minia- 
ture i»iiiter, 'but horridly oat of all nadiral proportion; the 
hand too large — ditto head, foce, and iiset: a fattngUng image, ■ 
not so good ns Madame Tuasaiid's !' I 

" Mr. Figgius'tt shop was rery much crowded, and I bej^n to 
suffer from the i-idiculoua part I was playing. ' I hare the clothes 
on my biick,* I thought to myself, *and I'll not stand here for a M 
guinea a week — I 'U drive another bnr^rahi with him.' I had juat * 
made up my mind to this, when an old acquaintance walked np^ 
to- ace what the people were staring at. ' Wliat is it V said he to 
seme of the people. ' A wax figure/ one replied. ' I 'tc some 
doubt about it/ said another ; ' for I seed it wink its dtc, as it 
moved its bead up and downv' My friend lau(;hed ; and I had 
no desire to be aeen iu such an occutpaaion by him, m> I became 
more ngid than before, only bowing siy head at regnlar intervals, 
like a piece of nmchinery. ' WiUoo,' said he ; * what ! turned 
into a tailor'a model! Your love of finery has brought you to 
something !' I remained »s sileut sa the thing I imitated, irhile 
Mr. Figgiua laughed inaJde until lus i^ides ached. ' That 's flesh 
and blood, I 'U swear/ said my friend ; ' 1 '11 timch it. There 's 
too much colour on the bee for 'Wilson.' * Keep yoitr hngers 
off, sir/ said ^Ir. Figgins; ' the paint 'b not dry yet, and a wnrin 
haiul will injure the wax.' *Wcll, I never was so deceived in 
ray life/ said my friend; * Wilaoa has lent his hvae for the artist 
to cast his model upon. T declare it ia life itself.' * It ia not a 
bit like life/ aaid an old man who contsidcred himself n judge. ■ 
' Did you ever sec a living man with a wuii^t like that? or a leg * 
of such a shape ? Never, man, never. Do ynu mean to say that 
the way he bends hia head is a bit like life — or that eternal 
Srown'i* 'Frown I* exclaimed my friend; ' wliy, it is a j;rin, 
instead of a frowu,' ' Iiord have mercy I bo it is. Well, and is a 
perpetual grin like life?' *Is this like life f ' said I, taking one 
step forward, and bowing in the old fellow's face. The old man 
turned pale, and the women screaraed. * Good morning, Mr. 
Figgins/ said I, although he didn't hear me. ' The clothes suit 
me nueommouly well, but the occupation does not auit at all.' I 
linked uiy m'm iu my frivud's, and waJked off with the new 
auit oa my back, of tbo finest make aud matartaL I never went 
to Mr. Fig^iua' ahop again, yon may depend vrpon it." 

" I 'U trouble you for my oout, Mr. WUson/* said Tom* " If yoa 







eoiiltl fhy »9ek trick* wkli Mr. rifs^^r yo'^ ^e Tsiy Ukolj to 
plw tnc sam^ bdck with mc" 

** NfltMenae^ nmi, oonsesse ; you arc a fncod j but Hr. Figgios 
■M » tmilor — a sworn enemy to all meo wUo wear coats mid Lave 
DO nuHtc; to pay for them. \V(!*U liave another bottle of wine; 
Um( *iU1 be a bottle apiece. You arc my visitors to-day, and I 
■erer do thingfl by halves. I could lell you such storica ! such 
■emarkable adventurea! but 1 iievcj' like to speak of my»;lf. 
ttftt oo«t nfoaycnr back, Mr. Furaival, hm beea my cotupiution 
BSMBg'^ a Btnuiga rroUc. It could tell Ules, if it could apeaL. 
It haa anm, nc ht ami out of twelrc diffeteak mtuations witliia tlii« 
last year. On an aTeca(i;e, I tbink I get into a fresh place erecy 
month ; I 'm up one miuute and down the next^ lilte the piston m 
%. jtram engine. TveUe situations 1 b.ivc been in this last ycnr ; 
may I nafer get iuto another if I haven't I I uevcr care uuw for 
■nytbin^, aa long bs 1 bave a prospect of getting n diuucr fur the 
ne\t day, and a commonly decent coat en my back." 

" \ wish you would have the kindnesa to take mine oB* your 
ahoolden, aiul reaame your own," aaid Tom. " t scarcely know 
ii>|iat Id think of tbe anfety of its po»itiou, ivliile you profesv such 
•taue Beatiments and relate sucU odd uLorics, Mr. Wilsun.'' 

" llierB ihould be no distrust amongst fricndti," observed the 
latter indtiidiuU. ; " here is Ihu wine. I 'U jnst tell you bow 1 got 
oat of a £nr of my loat situations. Your health, Mr. Furnival ; 
Mr. Ankn^ ditto. Vou are the moat ciUertaiuing comimuioas 
I ev«r net with, positively. I'll just tell you a few ^^toL-ics, 
bogbniBlg at the beginning of tbo year. At the first place I 
TniMinfrl ■ veek — a wliole week ; and would luive remaiued longer, 
if r eoold haae peiaaaded the goveraor's liuly to allow muatard for 
home canBtun|ttioa, and a stronger beverage than the smalleat 
«nali hear in a remarkably small quantity — but it was useless. 
In nun 1 told her tbnt beef waa indigcstiide wilhnut mustard, 
and that thin aceiccut dnnks were prejudicial to tin: iitoiimch. 
Sbc totJ JD* that lior busbnnd hnd taken nu uLbvr fur :t loiTg time, 
and that nmstard wns a thing they all diabkcd, aud was con- 
sidered by them only 6t for poultices; therefore I must be 
conient tn ent and drink as they did, or uppiy for a situation 
levhere elae. I chose the latter alternative. This was my' 
for Lcanng that etttuation, although the governor did io- 
tlmt I was very insulunt, that I made grog of tbe spirit of 
i^BB, mad that a whole pint of the compound tincture of carda- 
■maai bad disappeared in a very mysterious way ; but the fact was, 
that kc waaftisd mu to remniii with him^ and 1 waa resolved to 
^ witbont cOB&nlting bis conrcnienee, which made him very 

''At the neit situation I stopped almost a montli. The old 
lUKial was rich, and had a pretty daughter — »weetuesfl personified! 
I thouffkt uhc took a fancy to me, so I took a desperntu faue>' for 
her. You can't imagine how well I bebared there, but I couldn't 
«K that pretty girl running about the house without running oftet 
kcr. She was audi a httle love ! You have no idea — ^1 Ua^ no 



idea of the spirit she posscs&ed. ' Miss Smitb/ said I, as I m^ 
her oil the stairs vritk a pair of scissors in Ler band — 'cut me to 
the heart with your scorn, or your scissors, if I can resist the 
attraction of so much "beauty ! True it i« that I am only your 
father's assistant, but T nra your slave. Command mo, and be- 
hold how I will ohcy your slightest bidding.' ' I command you, 
then,' sayts she, ' tu tell my father of your imptTtincut belmviour 
to nic; if you do not, T tshalL' "Well, what could I do? 1 am q 
nan of my word ; so 1 spoke to the old boy in these words ; ' Sir» 
5"ou know what my profcssioual abilities are; I beg leave to ask 
you to Hauction my addresses to your daughter/ * Scoundrel [' 
he replied, ' Icare my house to-morrow morning.'' I was obliged 
to obey the purse-proud eld wretch. 

'* In a short time I got another situation, in which 1 remained 
about the usual time — three weeka or a month. A capitnl situa- 
tion it wjis, for altlioufrli ilic salary wat; siiinll, 1 had nolliicg to do. 
The surgery boy was ii smart Ind, and had as much to do as 
myself, so we were very amicable together. I gave my new 
governor great satisfaction, but the women I they arc doomed to 
be my dcstniction. Mrs, Pardon had a very delicate olfactorv 
apparatus — she could positively smell what o'clock it was, at auy 
hour out of the twenty-four, without assistance from any of 
the other senses. When the governor was out, she often observed 
a strong smelL of tobacco issuing from the surgery, and stated her 
suspicions to her lord and master, that I indulged in the vile and 
vulgar habit of inhaling tobacco-smoke from a filthy pipe I The old 
fellow questioned me on the auhjcet, but I was as innocent as a 
turtle-dove. ' Sir,' said I, * I have a mortal aversion to tobacco.' 
' So have I,' said he; ' and if I catch any one smoking in my 
house, I'll turn him out.' * I hope you will,' said I; ' for I 
can't bear the horrible smelh' Two days afterwards the cunning 
old dog returned homo through the stables, at the back of the 
house; and tliero were T and the surf;cry lad smoking very cosily 
together at the surgery door ! * T require your scrricea no longer,* 
said he, as he marched tiiruugh the smoke; aud I was turned out 
of that situation. 

" At the next place I was very unfbrtunate indeed; for, before 1 
had been in it two days, I fell in love with a pretty face that 
showed itself occasionslly over the bliods of a house on the oppo- 
site side of the way — 1 always was a terrible fellow to fall in love. 
At the same time, ray friends in the country sent me » couple of 
fine hams, to save me expense when I was in lodgings. Beautiful 
hams they were. One day when I was unfortunately thinking 
more of the pretty pri on the opposite side of the way nud the 
hams, than of the medicine I was dispensing, I thought I would 
indulge myself with a ra.shcr broiled on the surgery fire, when I 
took mv solitarj* tea. I immediately cut a delicious-looking slice 
out of the finest ham, and then linishcd my operations on the 
oorka and bottles. ' What a beautiful girl that is on the opposite 
-•(de of the way,* I exclaimed, while T was wrapping up the last mix- 

F. 'A street little diriuitv ! and what a delicious ham that is t' 






Here/ 1 coDtinued, ginng the pared to the boy, ' take this 
mixture lo Mrs. Llewellyn's, uuinlxr forty-6ve — aud toll Mury to 
get my tea ready.* 'Now for the couking — I wonder what'the 
pretty prl, on the oppoaite side of the way, wnidd say, if she saw 
aic broiling a rasher/ X luukcd abuut, but could see uotliiiig of 
the slice of Iiatii nuywliere. 1 Imikrd on the counter, and under 
it, in the drawers, in some of the large bottlcn, a»d even felt for it 
in niy pockets, hut it wrs not to be found. I made up my mind 
that the boy bad stx>lun it. iind I cut another slice. You can^t 
iue how dcli{{htfiil it id to ent a slice of haoi cooked by your- 

:f. I was in the middle of thi^ ciijoymcnt, wheu a. small parcel 
was brought in by the servimt. It was directed to Mrs. Llewellyn 
— 'What n beautiful girl that is on the opposite side of the way I* 
1 cicbiimcd to the avrrant. ' No — no — what am I dreaming of? 
— this parceJ is not for me.' ' Yc9, sir, it is,' said the scrr&nt, 
*>Ir». Llewellyn has sent it for you to look ut.' 'Ob! has she?* 
said i, ralhi:r cutnplimented, ' I *ll look at it with pleasure.'' I 
Opened it, and there were the missing slice of bam and a slip of 
paper, upon which wna written in my own writing, ' A fourth part 
of this mi\tare to be taken every four hours, Mrs. Llewellyn.* I 
bad been so much taken up with the pretty girl on the opposite 
tide of the way, thnt I had folded up the piece of raw liam instead 
of the mi%turc. This was an nccidenl too bad for my governor to 
tnbniit to, nud I was again turned adrift to seek my fortune eise- 

" There *« a sort of fate hanging over mc, that will not permit mc 
to stay lung in one place. X noi constantly un the move like the 
wandering Jew. I soon got anotber situaliun, however, aud was 
torned out of it before a week whs gone. A crustaccous animal 
roj next master was, a regular old crab, lie wouldn't permit me 
to ttmj oat later than eleven o'clock at night, and every sensible 
man knows that h just the hour wheu day begins with merry- 
hearted boyi like myself. The first time I stopped out until a 
quartfr past eleven, and the old gentleman opened the door for 
me himMHf. ' Mr. Wilson,* said he, as savage as a bulldug, ' if 
yon wish to remain in my house, yuu will submit to itti rt-gnla- 
lioos— I sbjUl never let you in ngain after the clock has struck 
dercn.* ' I 'U conform if X can,' said I; and I don't know how 
it happened, but the next time I went out in the evening, it was 
balf past eleven exactly when I knocked at the old boy's door. 
Ho one replied, so I knocked .ignia aud again, aud then the crusty 
old governor popped his head out of his bedroom window, ' Who's 
then?' nid be, in a voice like a lat^ dog'4. 'I^sir,' said X. 
• Wbo are you, »irV »tid he. 'Mr. Wilson, air,' said 1. 'I 
thought Mr. Wilson was in the house, and in bed,' said he. * I 
«m lorry X am so late,* said X; 'hut Mr. Wilson is out of the 
hoaae, and in the stn>ct.' 'There ho may stay,' said my niajtter, 
'and if he will come in the nioming be may carry away his boxes, 
and receive his salary.' X^own went the saab of the window, and 
I atood in the street shivering with cold. * I '11 be revenged fur 
thb/ said 1; so I took n sharp walk for half au hour, aud vuimeii. 




mvself M-ith a little brandy, and thcu I i-etunied to tlie inliospitable 
old fellow's iloor, and palled the night-bell with treiuondoiiH vio- 
lence. ' WTio's there?* said hr, in a Tcry fierce tone. ' I am 
going to bed directly, sir,' said I, 'and am come to say good 
night first.' The old fclliiw had armed liimHoir with a jug of water, 
and by way of reply, he threw the water at me. Not a drop fell 
□ear tnc, nnd repeating the ' good night,' I walked away better 
pleased than I should Imvc brrn with a year's salary in ndvanee." 

** I propose that, as the decanter is empty, wc adjourn thi« meet- 
ing," said h'lirnival, " therefore, Mr. Wilson, I will thank you to 
resume voiir own ttiat, and restore mine." 

" I 'U' pay tlic bill first," said Mr. Wibon, « w I'll trouble you 
to hug tbe'l)ell, Mr. Arden." ■ 

1 did afl I was re(|uefiied, and at tliat very moment, a gentleman f 
passed the Louse on horseback, at full trot — " Bless my soul I 
there's a particular friend of mine — I must speak to him," ex- 
claimed Wilson, mnning out of the house to stop the person on 
horseback. " lie* U never be able to slop him," said "Tom, " he 
will lie out of sijiht by thin time." 

" If he will cnll to him, he will stop. I d»rc sav/* said I. 

" What a fellow \Vil»on is to talk ! " said Toiin. " His tongue 
never tires, by all Ihat'n tiresome; he can talk longer than any 
one can listen. What prosy story was lie telling last? I have 
been more than half asleep all the time. He uerer talks about 
himself — never." 

" Be has treated us handsomely with the wiue," said I, "coa- 
sidcrin^ his circumstances. T thought you seemed inclined to 
distrust him." 

" I CKrtainly was, when he told that cock-and-bnll ston,' about 
cheating the tailor. Here *8 the waiter. Wc don't want the bill, 
waiter; we have been regaling at the gentleman's expense who 
liu just run out after that person on horNi.'back, if you saw him." 

"You will find," replied the waiter, "that he has been regaling 
at Tonni. For the gentleman, instead of nuiuing after the person 
on horseback, got into an umnibu», and 1 dare say is at Hyde Park 
by this time.** 

"Dy all knaves and thieves that ever breathed I" exclaimed 
Tom, "wc ore doue this lime. Here's a bill^-onc pound two to 
pay, and my bc^t coat and waistcoat gone ! I'll never bo chari- 
table again. Vi'e must divide this expense between us, Ardcu. I 
shall catch Mr. Wilson at his new situation, and I'll pay him off 
for this triek." 

We paid the bill, and proceeded homeward. When Tom went 
to look for Wilson at his new situatiuu, lie was not at home; and 
■when he went again in a week, he was informed that the very 
respectable young man had been turned away in disgrace. 


T«B public (iesire to be acquaitited with overytbing relating to 


6ed : bt 


Xnoir of, save the works of OlipUaDt and Maxwellj has contri- 
boted so mnch tu satisfV tbu cimositr, as the " I)iarv of Dr. 

The \iUue af this work principally consists in its perfect truth- 
folnc&s. The state of society, if that word apply to anythiug 
Ranum, is mude known by fi number of anecduteti, wbicb epenk 
vitk greater force than n vohune of disquisitions. Dr. Lcc had 
rare opporl unities for obscrratioti of life, muiaers, and politics in 
BwNui. He was resident ucnrly two years ia different parts of 
tKat kingdom, and mixed in the society of those who conld and 
did g^vc him accurate information of the deep game played 
behind the scenes. lie saw Russia id 1825, as all the world sees 
her now, and recognised in the enrly days of XichoLis that anibi- 
tioo and aggressivu spirit, which hiis carried the Russian troops 
Mice nrarc acroes the iJunubo. He wss in Kussiji at the death of 
ibe Erapcror Alexander, and was among the Krst to correct the 
idea general in Europe for some time, that the Kmperor been 
poiaOAcd. He was there also, during the conspiracy which broke 
ml oo iJui accession of Nicholas, and testifies to the distrust one 
P"ifiia» had of another, which, indeed, led to the betrayal of the 
oonvfinej. Many anecdotes are giren, which rereal the stat« 
of the loris, or, as I>r. Luc boldly and justly calls them, slaves. 
The oppVBiioti of sixty millions of buninn beings CHnnot Jong 
go nnavoMCed ! Tltougb the present Emperor has supprc^^sed 
the Bible Society ; dLscoualenuuced education ; and thrown im- 
fwdimenia in the paths of foreigners tnivelbng in hi.f doniinioos; 
Lc cauoot expect ultimately to succeed in naturalising Asiatio 
despotism on the shores of the Baltic. The mournl'ul songs 
which the poor slaves give to the air, as they traverse the 
coantrr roads, are pregTiniit with snd njcnuing ; aud the dogged 
ofaBtinocy with which the Russian falls at his post in battle, may 
h* as much the result of despair as of conragc. Under the tiiio 
crust of society in Russia, Ues a sore which is festering : whilst 
1^ world for years bus been fighting the battle of the Negro, 
there have been Hlavcs close at hand, who have toiled from 
tbo hour of their birth till welcome death released tbem, vic- 
tinu of the ciipnec, the passions, and the knouts of their savage 
masters, la favour of these miserable beings Dr. Lee repcatediy 
raises his voice; and when it was the fashion to laud Nicholas 
to the iky, he asked what single good thing had the Czar dune 
br \he aixty milUoua of sUves that are penned in the Russian 

* Tbs ** Lsst Days of AlvuiKler. snd ihe Pint Daiyi of NicfaolB«> Empetot 
«r!CaMb." By Robm Lc>«, JU.D. Seooad Editloa, 
•• Pn"-' Slid tha tVar." By Capiam Jeue. 

r 1 



Empire. When we reflect upon the rcsponsihility which Kirholaa 
for a qiifirtrr of a century has voluntnrily assumed, of prescmng 
ia a state of slarcrv a large proportion of tlie human race, we 
mnnt suppose either that hitt hfu is insupiiortablc to bim, or mure 
probably that his heart h hardened, like the Kgyplian king's, 
80 that he is deaf to reason. 

Conversations are given in the course of the Diary, which Dr. 
Lee had with distingmshed politicians, among others with Count 
Caramnn, which are vcrj* iiiterustiiij;. The Second Kdition, lately 
issued, has the following anecdote, which we shall extract, to 
show the extensive system of employing spies in the Austrian 
Dominions : — 

" At Vii-nnn, on my way to St. Pplrraburfih, I Irft wilti the porter of ih« 
Englivh KiiiiiUHsy a letter ol' iniroducuoD to Ltidv Gvorginna Well«ile|, wife ul' 
the Eiigiitli Ainl>a!i>ailcir, for a friend in En^tunil. On ilii» occasion I was in- 
Titc<t lo dinner, but being on ihc^ point of setting out for Ittuita I eould not 
accept uf lllc iDviiatPon, and s«nc a wriltL-n excut<>. Un my fcturn fruui Kutsu 
in 1t^'i6, through Vi(-nn:i, two y<-im a(\ei, meeting tii^r lu(L>shiu at dinner at tlie 
RuHiian AmbasjaiJui's, slic expressed licr osloni^hmcnt tliat 1 was not tlic Dr. 
Lee who had nccpplrd her intitiiliou in l>i'i*, iid'I had itrtunliy personntcd me 
at Ihc Aii)hu5Kad<)r')t tabic Her ladyship tlioii^lit. on tlint occnsion. that l!i«c 
WQS bumu niu^i unaccouiilul>tt^ niisiaki^, ua the iinpo»ior was uliully i;:tiocuni of 
the friend who hod pven mc the Jeticr of inirodtii-lian to licr ladvship. Sly 
leimr. di-'cliniiig tiit> iitviculLuu. vrus k-ft ut my hutd. iind 1 Imve never ecased to 
believe ilint tint vn* the work of tlif policr, my pautpcrt l>L-iiig M^iicd by .Mr. 
Canning, nt lliiit lime n)o»t obnoxioLU Lo tli<! Austrian and Rusaiaa Courts." 

Captain Jesse's little volume is a very unpretending, but a very 
useful hook, containing a variety of sUitiiitics and anecdotes, illus- 
trating the social and political condition of Kussia. Evert' page 
corrobonitcs the statements of Dt'. Lcc, and ishowB liow entirely 
the spirit of the llussian is subdued by the wretched systenj under 
which he is born. The extent to which jjaming is followed out in 
the capital is naother proof of the necessity of tsutue strung excite- 
ment to enable the people to forget the monotony of KusNian life. 
"The men," says Captain Je»sCj "live for intrigue, gaming, di-ssi- 
patiun, and the Government." 

This war, if it be atteuded by no other, will have this one good 
effect, it has produced a number of works by authors of unim- 
peachable veracity, who nil bear testimony to the rotten, niii-cnihle 
«tat« of society in St. Petersburgh and other cities of the Russian 
Empire ; to the cruel nature of the military despotism of Nicholas; 
and chiefly to the sad condition of the ]ioor Kussian slave. On 
this hut subject all writers afc agreed. Cinished indeed must be all 
Spirit amongst the serfs since they endure such vegetation, we will 
not call it life. Much of Captain Jesse's volume appeared some 
time back, but is now most seasouably re-published, with addi- 
tional matter. The account of Odessa is vci^' full and clear, and, 
tegether with the portion relating to Sebastopol, will be read now 
with interest. Greater value attaches to the brief but lucid sketch 
of CNrcassiDj and the forts on the Circas>iinn Coast, respecting 
which very little is known. Even ntter the many volumes on 
RuKsia, which thio war has called forth, this Uttle \«urk should be 
rend for much new /nrurniation. couveycd in a gcuiat, lively style. 



Bt CniLKLEs Rbadg, 

CHAPTKa !l. 

TtTET eyed one another in silence; nt last Iliclimnn looked 
down U[>OD the ground and said, in faltering, ill-u8!>ured tunes, 
"H-bow d've do, Rachael? i-I didn't expect to see you lierc.'* 

"Nor I you." 

"If yuu arc busy, don't let me stop you, yuu know,'* said Hick- 
man, awkwardly and confused, and, like one with no great re- 
sources, cuni[>t.-lled to utter soinvtliiri<;. 

Then KactiacI, irhite as a sheet, took up her ba-skct again, and 
moved away in silcnee ! the young farmer eyed her apprehensively, 
«nd, being clearly under the inAuence of some misgiving as to her 
intentions, said, " If yuu hlow nic it will do me liartu and you no 
good, you know, Rachael. Can^t wc be friends':" 

''Friends! — you and 1?'' 

" Uon't be in such a hurry — let us talk it over. 1 am alUllc 
bettrr ulT than 1 used to be in those days." 

"What ia that to me?" 

" Plenty ; if you won't be spiteful, and set others agwnst me in 
tliis part:"— by ^'others," doubtless Hickman intended Mrs. 

" I khall neither speak nor think of you." was the cold answer. 

Had Kicfaard Hickman been capable u£ fathoming lUchuel 
Wright, or even of reading her present marble look and tone 
aright, he would have seen that he had little to apprehend from 
her berond contempt, a thing he wuutd not in tlic least have 
minded; but hc was cunning, and, like the cunning, shallowish, 
ao he pursued his purpose, fechng bis way with Uer to the best of 
his ability. 

" 1 have had a smart bit of money left me lately, Rachael." 

"What is that to me?" 

" What is it ? why, a good deal, because [ could a2«st you now, 

*'And what right have you to assist me now?" 

"Confound it, Kachael, how proud yuu are!-*-wUy you are not 

the same girl. Oh ) 1 see, as for assisting you, I know you would 

rather work than be in debt to any one ; but then there is another 

besides vou, yoo know." 

K "What otliert" said Rachael, losing her impassibility, and 

H trembling all over at this siaiple word. 

H **Wliat other? why, confound it, who ever saw a girl fence 

^^^B • Thtt fritff't workf an written to be read aloud. 



like this. I suppose you think I am not man enough to do what's 
right ; I am, though, now I have got the means." 

"To do what?" 

" Why, to do my duty by him — to provide for him." 

•' For whom ?" cried Rachael, wildly, "whbn he is dead \" 



" Don't say so, Rachael; don't say so." 

"He is dead!" 

'* Dead ! I never thought I should hare cared much ; but that 
word do seem to knock against my heart. I'd give a hundred 
pounds to any one would tell me it is not trae — poor thing ! I 've 
been to blame; I 've been to blame." 

" You were not near us when he came into the world ; you were 
not near us when he went out of it. He lived in poverty with 
me ; he died in poverty, for all T could do, and it is against my 
will if I did not die with him. Our life or our death gave you no 
. care. Whiles he lived, you received ft, letter every six months 
from me, claiming my rights as your wife." 

Hickman nodded assent. 

" Last year you had no letter." 

** No more there was." 

"And did not that tell you? Poor Rachael had lost her con- 
solation and her hope, and had no more need of anything I" 

"Poor Rachael!" cried the man, stung with sudden remorse. 
"Curse it all! Curse you, Dick Hickman!" Then, suddenly 
recovering his true nature, and, like us men, never at a loss for an 
excuse against a woman, he said, angrily, "What is the use of 
letters — why didn't you come and tell me you were so badly 

'Me come after you! The wrong-doer?" 

"Oh! confound your pride! should hare sent the old man to 
me, then." 

"My grandfather, an old soldier as proud as fire I Send him 
to the man who robbed me of my good name by cheating the law. 
You are a fool ! Three times he left our house with his musket 
loaded to kill you — three times I got him home ag^n ; but how ? 
— by prayers, and tears, and force — all three, or you would not be 
here in Irfe." 

"The devil! what an old Tartar! I say, is he here along with 
you ?» 

"Oh, you need not fear," said Rachael, with a faint espression 
of scorn, " he is ffoing directly, and I am going too ; and when I 
do go from here f shall have lost all the little pleasure and hope I 
have in the world," said Rachael, sorrowfully, and, as she said 
tills, she became unconscious of Hickman's presence, and moved 
away without looking at him; but that prudent person dared not 
part with her so. He was one of those men who say, " I know 
the women," and, in his sagacity, he dreaded this woman's tongue. 
He determined, therefore, to stop her tongue, and not to risk Rose 
3Ha^£e)d and thousands for a few pounds. 


"Now, RAchael, lUten to mo. Since the poor child is dead, 
Uiere is only you to think of. Wc oiii do une another good or 
bim, you and 1 ; better good than harm, I sajr. SuppoM I 
offered you twenty pounds, uow, to keep dark?"' 

** You poor creature ! " 

"Well, thirty, then?" 

**Oh! hold your lutigue — you make me atihamed of myself as 
mil as you." 

*' 1 &«e what it is^ you want too much ; you vraut me to be your 

**No; while my child lived, I clnimcd my right for hts sake; 
but not now, not now," and the poor ^rl suddenly turned her 
eyes on Hickman, M'ith an indescribable slmddcr, ttiat a woman 
would tiaru iiiicrpretcd to the U-ttcr ; hut no man could be expected 
lo read it quite aright, so many tilings it said. 

Hickman, the sagacious, cliose to understand by it pique and 
personal hostility to him, and de^rc of vengeance ; and, having 
failed to bribe her, he now resolved tu try aod outface her. 

It so happened that at this very moment merry voices began to 
sound on every side. The clatter was heard of tabloi being 
brought out of the kitchen, and the harrest-honie i>eoplc were 
seen coming towards the place where Rachael and Hickman were; 
»o Hickman said, liastity, " Any way, don't think to bluw me — for 
if you do, I '11 swear you out, my lass, I '11 swear you out." 

h" No doubt you know how to lie," was the cold reply. 
''There, Uachael," cried llickiuan, piteously, lowering his tone 
tk'tiance in a moment; "don't ex^wse me before the folk, 
utever you do. Here they all conic, confound them !" 
Rachael made no answer. She retired into the Hathoms' 
uuuae, and in a few minutes the tables were set, jost outside the 
boose, and loaded with good cheer, and the rustics b^an to ply 
kuj/e and fork as zealously as they liad uckle, and rake, and pitch- 
fork: and so, on the very spot of earth where Rachael had told 
Hickman faer child was dead, and witli him her lieail, scarce &ve 
miautes afterwards came the rattle of knives and folks, and pculs of 
boisterous laughter and huge feeding. And tlius it Imppens to 
many a small locality in this world — tragedy, comedy, and farce are 
acted oil it by turns, and all of them in earnest. Su harvest-home 
dinner proceeded with great it^al ; and alter the solids the heit ale 
was served round ad iUtUuui ; and intoxication, lanctified by im- 
memorial tutgc, followed in due course. Howorer, as this symp- 
tom of harvest was a long time coming on upon tlie present 
ocdsion, owing to peculiar interruptiuiis, iltc reader will not 
bare to follow us so far, wliich let us hoju he will not regret. 

Few words, worthy of buliig embalmed in an imiiiurtal story, 

warranted to live a month, were uttered during the discussion of 

tbo meats, fur when the /ruse* coiymmere nnti are let loose upon 

bacf, bacon, and pudding, among the results dialogue on a large 

^ scale is not. 

B " Yet slmll the Muse" embabu a conversation that paaaedon. 

~ this occiisio/i between the Urathcra Messenger, la^Mivvtavs vi^ui 

M^ui a/ky, who Itad been on this larm nearly all tUe\t Vwtft. 



Bob Meisengflr was can-ing a loin of real. Jem 7^fcs»ienger 
sat opposite Ttim, eating bacoti and benns on a very large scale. 
- Boh, [fliminj; at extraordinary politeness) : *' Wool you bare 
sonic veal along with your bacoo, Jem?** 

Jem. "Thnt, I wool luit. Hob," (with a reproacbful air, as one 
wbnu) a brother liad somjlit to entrap.) 

When tlie table was cleared of the viands, the ale-mugs and 
honis were filled, and Mrs, Mayfield ami the Hathorns looK part 
in the festive ceremony — that is, they did not sit at the table, but ■ 
they showed tbeniKelves from titne to time, and made their humble I 
guests heartily weh-ome by word, and look, and smile, as their 
forefathers bad done at harvest-ttme, each in their century and 

Presently Bob Messenger arose solemnly, with his horn of ale 
in his hand. Tlie others rose after hiro, knovring well what he 
was going to do, andchauntcd nith liini theancient Harrest-home 
stave : — 

•' Here 's a lieulth tinio oiir niiii>t«r, 
Tlic foutiJcr ol'iiie fpast. 
Not only to niir iiiii«teT, 
But 10 our mijiit('ii«. 
Tuu Vaicet. Tlit'ii driiil:, bo;*, drink, 

Ani] 5Ce AS you Aa not spill, 
Pol il'yau tlu vou itlinll drink to 
(liir liralili nitli n free goiidwill, 
Chonu. Tlicii dtiiik, boys, drink," Jvc. 

Corporal Patrick and Rachael left the table. They liad waited 
only to take part in tliii^ eompliiiient to their entertainer!), and 
now tbey left. The reason was, one or two had jeered them before 

The corporal had shaved and made himself very clean, and he 
had put on bis faded red jacket, which be always carried about, 
mnd Racliael had washed his iieek-handkerchief, and tied it neatly 
about his neck, and had put on herself a linen collar and Jinen 
wristband, very small and plain, but white and starched ; and at 
this their humble attempt Co be decent and nice one or two, (who ■ 
happened to be dirty at the time), could not help sneering. ■ 
Another thing, Kachael and Patrict were stranj^ers. Some na- 
tives cut a jest or two at their expense, and Patrick was about to 
answer bv flinging hia mug nt one man's head, but ItachacI re- 
strained iiim, and said, " Be patient, grandfather. Tbey were 
never taught arvy better. When the farmer's health has been 
drunk we can leave them." 

People should be able to take jests, or to ansn'er them in kind, 
not to take them to heart; but Rachael and Patrick had seen 
better days, (they were nut so very proud and irritable then), and 
now Patrick, naturally litgl) spirited, was sure, and could not bear 
to he filliped, and Kachuel was become too cold and bitter to- 
wards all the vulgar natures that blundered up against her, not 
meaning her any good, nor much harm, either, poor devils ! 

A giggle greeted their departure; but it must be owned it was 
« somewhat uneasy giggle. 



Tfiwe wM in the company a ccrtnin Timotliy Brown John, 
vho was naturally b shoemaker, but iras turtied out into the 
Stubble aiinuully at harvest time. The lad had a small rustic 
jenius for music, which he illustrated by playing the clarionet in 
efanrch, to the great regret of the clei^ymaii. Now after the 
ehonis one or two were obscrA'cd to be nudj^^ing this young man, 
and he to be making those mock-oiodest di^iculties which are pan 
of a singer, in town or country. 

" Ay, Tim/' cried Mrs. Mayfield, " you sing us » song." 

•' He hsTC got a new one. Mistress !" put in a carter's lad, with 
Bancer eyes. 

** What is it about, boy ?" 

" Well," replied the youngster, " it is about love," (at which 
tlie ^rU giggled) J "and I think it in about you^ Dame May- 

" About me I then it must be nice." 

ChontMof husti^i—"MR\\\ haw! haw!" 

•* Come, Mr. Brown Juhii, I will trouble you for it, directly. I 
see the bottom of some of their mugs, Jane." 

" Well,'' said Mr. Brown John, looking do\vn, " I don't know 
what to say about it. Mayhap, you might n't like it quite so well 
before so much company." 

*' Why not? prav." 

•* Well, you see, Dame, I am afeard I shall give you a red face, 
like, with this here song." 

" If you do, I'll ^vf you one with this here hand." 

Chorus—-' Haw/haw ! Ho I " 

*' Drat the boy, sing, and have done with it." 

** rU do my best, .\la'aro," replied Tim, gnivcly. 

On this, .Nlr. Brown John drew from liis porkct a diminutive 
flatc, wilh one key, and sounded his CJ at great length. He then 
paused, to let his G enter his own mind and those around ; he 
then corajHised his features like a preacher, and was about to enter 
on his andertaking, when the whole operation was suddenly, and 
remoTBelessly, and provokingly interrupted by Mr. Cnsenower, 
wbo, itnick as it appeared with a sudden, irresistible idea, burst 
upon them all with this question — 

'* Do any of vou know one RcIkcch Rcid, in this part of the 

The company stared. 

Some, Co whom this question had been put by him before, 
giggled; others, scrntched their heads; others, got no fnrthcT 
than a stricken look. A few mustered together their wits and 
•ssorcd Mr. Cascnower thev Imd never heard tell of "the wfnch." 

'* How devilish odd," cried Casenower, " it is not such acommon 
combination nf sounds, one would think.'* 

" I know Hannah Reid," squeaked a small cow-boy ; he added, 
Trith enthusiasm, " she is a capital aUder, she is ! ! ! " and iic smiled 
■t some reminiscence, perchance of a joint somersault upua ihc 
ice, lJl^t winter. 


" Hannah does not happen to be Rebecca, ynung gentleman,** 
objected Cascnower; "sing aaaj-, John Brown" 

"I'm agoing, sir. G — g g g " and he impressed 

the key note once more upon their souls. 'ITien sang Brown Johu 
the following sung, aud the rest made the laughing chorus, and, 
OS they all Inughcd in dltferent ways, though they began laughing 
from their heads, ended in laughing from their hearts. It was 
pleasant and rather funny, and provwso successful, that after this 
H Maestro, Urown John and his song were asked to all the feasts 
in a circle of seven miles. There were eight verses : we will cod- 
finc ourselves to two, because paper is not absolutely valueless, 
whatever the trivoluniinous may think. 

" When ItichnrH nppesred, how xt\y heart pjl-a>p>tt 
With a tenderly motion, with which it wnn seized I 
To iieat ihe youni; /eltnw's pay iniioc^iil rhut 

I eouM listen for cvor^-oh dear ! 1 'm so plc^as^ ! 
I'm si> picueti! ha! hi! lial ha! 
1 'ill :io pkvued ! ba ! ha ! ha l ha ! 
I 'm aujoing to be niarrie J — oh dear 1 I 'm so pleased ! 
I 'ni ■ii;€ing to b« married— oU d«nr I I 'tti so |ilea5«d I 
Chorut. 1 *m so pleased, &c. 

" Oh, Rneet ii thi^ «incl] of the iii-w>inaKii ba^'. 
And sweet are the cowslips thnt Bprinc in May i 
Hut sweeter 's my lad ihnn the dnisiiii ln«n. 
Or the bay, or ihe flowpr, or \\\f cows at the dsvo. 
I 'in so pLcaaed." &c 

We writers can tell " the what," hut not so very often 
how," uf anything. I can give Tim's bare words, but it is not in 
my power nor any man's to write down the manner of 11 Mnesiro 
in singing. How he dwelt on the ^hort syllables, and abridged 
the long — his grave face till he came to his laugh — and then the 
enormous mouth flew suddenly open and the jovial peal that 
came ringina through two rows of teeth like white clie8»-j)awns, 
and with all this his qu.iint, indescribable, dulcet, rustic twang, 
that made his insignificant tnelody ring like church hells heard 
from the middle of a wood, and taste like mctheglin come down 
to us in n yew-tree cask from the Druids ! 

Ihiring the song, one Uobert Munday and his son, mral 
fiddlers, who by instinct nosed festivities, appeared at the gate, 
each with a green bag. A shriek of welcome greeted them ; they 
were set in a corner, with beef and ale galore, and soon the great 
table was carried in, the ground clcarcu, the ouuples made, aod 
the fiddles tuning. 

The Messrs. Munday made some preliminary flourishes, like 
hawks hovering uncertain where to pounce, and then, like the 
same bird, they suddenly dashed into '' The Day in June.'' 

Their style was rough, and bore a family likeness to pluughing, 
hut it was true, clean, and spirited ; the notes of the arpeggut 
danced out like starry sparks in fireworks. 

Moreover, the Messrs. Munday played to tlie foot, which is 
prcdaeiy what your mcltcd-hutter- violinist always fails to do 




vbellier he hapi>ens to be wasbiiig out tlie soul of a walts^ or 
of a polka, or of a reel. 

ThcT also plared so &» ta raise tiie spirits of all who heard 
them, young or old, which is an artistic clfect of Uie very liighest 
order, however attained, and never is and never vill be attabed 
bj: the melted-butter-Tioliuist. 

Tlie fiddlers being inerr)-, the dancers were merry ; the dancers 
being merry, the fiddlers said to thcmseUxs '■' Aha ! we have not 
mifscd fire," and so j^ew uierriur still. And thus the electric fire 
of laughter aod music darlcd t4i and fro. l>ance,fions and daugh- 
ten of toil ! None had ever a better right to dance than you have 
this sunny afternoon in clear September. It was you that pain- 
fftlly pltjughed the stiff soil ; it was you that trudged up the high 
incommoding furrow and paiiiftdly cast Hbroad the equMl seed. 
YoD that are tromcn, bon-ed the back and painfully drilled holes 
in t}ie aoil, and poured in the seed; and this month p»st you have 
fell beot, oud, witJi sweating brotr^t, cut doivn and housed the crops 
that came from tlic seed you planted. Dance ! for those yellow 
licVsj trophies of your labour, say you ha^-e a right to; those 
bams, bursting nith gulden fruit, swear you have a right to. 
Harrest-tide comes but unoc a year. Dance! sons and daughters 
of toil. 

Exult over your work, smile with the smiling year, and, in this 
briehc hour, oh, cease my poor soul to enry the nch and great! 
Believe me, they are never, at any hour of their lives, so cheery 
as yuo arc now. How can they be 'f With them dancing is tame 
work, an every-day business — no rarity, no treiit — don't envy 
them — God is just, and deals the sources of content with a more 
equal hand than appears on the surface of things — dance, too, 
vitboot Cear ; let no Puritan make you believe it is nTong ; things 
are wrong out of season, and right in season ; to dance in harvest 
is aa beoaniog as to be grave in church. The Almighty has put 
it into the hearts of insects to dance in the aftemuon sun, and of 
men and womeji in every age and ct'cry land to danoc round the 
gathered crop, whether it be corn, or «il, or wine, or any other 
familiar miracle that springs up sixty-fold and aurtnres and mul- 
tiplies the life of man. More fire, fiddlers 1 play to the foot — play 
to the heart the sprightlv " Day in June." Ay ! foot it freely, 
lada aod lasses; my own Iicart is warmer to think you are merry 
once or twice in your year of labour — dance, my poor brothers 
aod eislers, sons and daugiiters of toil ! 

After several dances, Mrs. Mavficid, who had been- uneasy in 
her mind at remaining out of tKc fan, could boar inaction no 
ktnger, lo she pounced on Ilobert llatbom and drew him into the 
aa^gio square. Robert danced, but in a very listless way : so 
nuch so, Uiftt his mother, who stood by, took occasion to give 
bim a push and say, " is that the way to dance ? " at which poor 
}loberc tried to do better, but his Iim6s, as well as his face, showed 
buw far his heart was from his heels. 

Now, in the middle of tliis dance^ suddenly loud and an^ 
sounds were heard approaching, and the voice of old P&lncV. <k&« 



Boon disLtnguisbed, and the next moment he was seen foTIowinjI 
Mr. Hic-kinan. mid, Iiaiiging on his rear, loading him with inrc©. 
tivc. Radiael was by his sidCj endeavouring, in vain, to soothe 
him> and to end, vitat to licr was a most terhbte scene. At & 
gesture from Mrs. Mayficld, the 6dd)crs left off, and the rustics 
turned, nil curiosity, towards the interruption. "Tliere are bad 
hearts in the world," shouted Pntrick to all present — vermin that 
steal into honest houses and * file them — bad hearts, that rob the 

Eoor of that which is before life; oh, yes, far before life! and as 
e uttered these words, l^atrick was observed to stagger. 
" The old man is drunk," said Hickman. ** 1 don't know -what 
he means." 

HachacI coloured bigh and cried, " No ! Master Robert, I assnre 
you he is not dnmk, but he is not himi^elf; he has been com- 
plaining this hour past ; see ! look at bis eye. Good people, my 
grandfather is ill ;" and indeed, as she said these words, Patrick, 
who from the moment he had staj^i^crcd, had stared wildly and 
confusedly around him, suddenly bowed his head and dropped 
upon his knees; be would have fallen on his face, but Radiacr* 
arm now held bim up. 

In a moment several persons came round them ; nraonRst ibe 

rest, Rtibert and Mrs. Mayficld. Itobcrt loosened his neckcloth, 

and loukin^f at the old mail's face and eye, he said, gravely and 

tenderly,** Rachacl, I have seen the like of this before — in harrest. 

" Ob', Master Robert, what is \t'{" 

" Rachacl, it is a stroke of the sun !" — he turned to bis tnotfier. 
"God forgive us all, the old man was never fit for the work we 
have put him to." 

*•' Come, don't stand gaping there," cried Mrs. MayfieU! ; " monnt 
my mare and gallop for the doctor— don't spare her — off with yoo ! 
Betsy, get a bed ready in my garret." 

** Kb, dear!" said Mrs. Ilathorn, *'I doubt the poor things 
troubles arc over," and she put up lier ajiron and began to cry. 

" Oh, im 1 " cried Rachacl. *' Grandfatlicr — don't leave me ! — 
don't leave me I " 

Corporal Patrick's Hps moved. 

" 1 can't see ye ! 1 can't sec any of ye ! " be said, half fretfnily, 
*' Ah t " he resumed, as if a light iiad broken in on him. ** Yes!* 
said tic, very calmly, "T think 1 am going;" but tbe next 
moment lie cried in tones that made the bystanders thrill, so 
wild and piteous they were — " My daughter ! my daughter!— «be 
will miss ifie!" 

Robert Ilathorn felt on bis kncss, and took the old band with 
one of those grasps that bring soul into contact M'ith soul ; tlic old 
soldier, who was at this moment past seeing or hearing, fvlt this 
grasp, and turned to it as an unconscious plant turns to the tight. 
*' 1 can't see you," said he, faintly ; " but, whoever you are, take 
care of my child ! — she is sucb a good child !" 'Ilie bands spoke to 
one another still ; then tbe old soldier almost smiled, Rral tbe 
anxious, frightened look of his face, began to calm. **■ Thank Uod,' 

• For defile 




od,' ■ 



Jm faltered, "they are going to take care of my child!'' And, 
aisMtwiti) thcsL- \vords, ho lost all sense, and lay pale, and calm, 
whI motionless at their feet, and his hand (:i>ul<l gniKp Robert's hqi 
■ore. There wajj a iiiotnent of dead silence and inquiring looks. 
Robert looked into his face gravely and attentively. 

Wbcu he had so inspected him a little while, he turned to tlicra 
willf Mild he said, in a deep and almost a stern voice, 

" Ilals off!" 

Tlicy all uncovered, and stood lookln;; like stricken deer at the 
old Mldier as lie lay. The red jacket had nothing ridiculous now. 
When it was new* and bright, it had been in ["reat battles. They 
asked thetnselves now had they really sncercti at this faded rag of 
BogUnd's glory, and at that withered hero ? 

" Did n't think the old man was agoing to leave us like that," 
aakl one of tliese rough penitents, "or I*d never ha wagged my 
tongite ag«in un." 

Mrs. Mayfield gave orders to have liim carried up to Iter garret, 
•ad four »tout rustics, two at his head and two at his feet, took 
him up the stairs, and laid him there on a decent bed. When 
iUchacI ftsw the ch'an Hoor, tlic Uttle carpet round the foot of the 
bed, the bright wall:i and windows, and the snowy sheets, made 
Beady for her grandfather, she hid her face and wept, and said but 
two voitls — " too late ! too late !" 

Aa Rachael was following her grandfather up the stairs, she met 
Hickman ; that worthy hud watched ttiis sorrowful business in 
atlence ; he had tears in his eyes, and coming to her, he M'hispcrcd 
m her ear, ** liachael, don't fret — 1 will not desert you now." On 
the laiKlinu;, n moment after, Kacliacl met Kobert Hiithom : he 
•std to her, " llachaci, your grandfather trusted you to me." 

When Uickiuan said that to her, Uachael turned and looked at 

Wlkcn Robert said that to her, she lowered her eyes away from 


TtiR poor battered soldier lay some hours between life and 
death. Just before sunrise, Rachacl, who had watched him all 
oight, and often moistened his temples with vinegar, 0|>ened tlie 
windi^, and as the morning air came into the room, a change for 
U»e better was observed in the patient— a slight colour stole into 
his pate cheeks, and he seemed to draw a fuller breath, and his 
heart bent more perceptibly. lUchael kneeled and prayed for 
han, and then she prayed to him not to leave her alone: the sun 
had been up about an hour, and came hery bright into the white- 
vaahed room ; for it looked towards the Kast, and cor]>oral 
Purick'a hps moved, but without uttering a sound. Hachael 
prayed for him again most fervently. About nine o'clock his lips 
OMUred, and this time he spokc.^ 

** Hear rank, right wheel! — " 



The next moment, a light shot into his eye. His looks 

rested upon Bacliael: lie smiled feebly, but contentedly, then 
closed hi» eyes, and sltiinbered again. 

Corporal Patrick lived. But it was a near thine, a very near 
thing — he ivaa saved by one of those accidents we call luck — when 
Mrs. Mayfield's Tom rode for tlie doctor, the doctor was provi- 
dcnliiilly out. Had he been in, our tale would be now Itidding 
farewell to Corporal Patrick — for this doctor was one of the pig- 
sticking ones. He loved to stab men and women witli a tool that 
has stain far more than the sword in raodera duys; it is oaitcd 
" the lancet." Had he found a man insensible, he would have 
stabbed him, poor man ; he always stabbed a fellow-creature when 
he caught it insensible: not very Rcncrous, was it? — now had he 
drawn from those old veins one tablc-spoonful of that red fluid 
which is tlie Ufe of a mnti, the a*i;ed man wuuUl hqve come to hia 
senses only to sink the next hour, and die for want of that vital 
stream stolen from him by rule. 

As it was he breathed; and came hack to life by slow degrees. 
At first his right arm was powerless; then he could not move the 
right leg, but at last be recovered the use of his limbs, but re^ 
mained feeble, and his pour head was iiiore confused : ooe moment 
he would he quite himself; another his memory of recent events 
would be observed — and then he would shake his head and sigh 
— but Nature was strong in him ; and he got better — but slowly. 

As soon as he was able to walk, Ruchael proposed to Mrs. May- 
field to return home, but Mrs. Halhorn intcrpostrd, and requested 
Rachaelto take her own sprvant*s place for another week, in order 
to let the servant visit her friends, On thete terms, Kacliael 
remained, and did the work of the Hathnrns' house, and it was 
observed, that during this period more colour came to her cheek, 
and her listlessness and languor sensibly diminished. 

She was very active and zealous in her work, and old Hathom 
was so pleased with her, that he said one d«y to Mrs. Hatlioru: 
*' I don't care if Betsy never comes back at all ; this one is worth 
a baker's dozen of her, this Kachacl." 

"Betsy will serve our turn as well in the long run," &aid Mrs. 
Hathom, somewhat drily and thoughtfully. 

" Betsy !" replied the former, contemptuously; "there is more 
»cnsc in this RftchaeFs forefinger than iu that wench's whole caf'- 


It was about two days after this, tliat the following conversa- 
tion took place between Uobert Hathorn and his mother: — 

"Is it true, what I hear, that Mr. Patrick talks about going 
nest week ? " 

" Have not they been here long enough, Uobert. 1 wish they 
may not have been here too long."' 

" Whv too long, when vou asked them to stay yourself, mo- 
ther." ■ 

" Yes, I did, and I doubt 1 did very wrong. But it is hard for 
& motlier to deny her son." 

"I am much obliged to yov^ mother, bat I don't remember that 
*rer I Mskcti you.'' 



" No ! no I I don't lay that you crer iipokc your mind, Robert; 
but Tou looked up in my face, and showed your vnsh plain 
enough to my eye ; and you see a poor foolish body like me 
doesn't know how to say no to her boy that never vexed her. 
I should have been a better friend to you^ if I had turned my 
head away, and made-believe not to see what is in yoor heart." 

R(^beit paused awhile, then in a low anxioua voice, he whis- 

" Don't you like her, mother ? " 

** Yes ! I like her, mv poor soul. What is there to dislike in 
her} Bat I don't know her." 

" But 1 know her as well as if we had been seven years ac- 

** You talk like a child! How can you know a girl that comes 
firom a >mnge p«rt." 

" Vd answer for her, mother." 

*^ I wouldn't answer for any young wench ftf them all ! I do 
notice, >l>e is very close: ten to one if she has not an aci^uunt- 
anoe of tome sort, good or bad." 

''A had acquaintance, mother! Never! If yon had seen her 
through all the harvest-month as I did, respect herself and make 
otbrrs resp«et Iter, you would sec that girl never could have made 
a trip in her life." 

" Sow, Robert, what makca yoa so sad, like, if you have no 
misf^vings about her?" 

" Because mother, I don't think she likes me so well as I 
do her." 

** Alt the better," said Mrs. 1 lathom, drily, "make up yonr mind 
to tliat." 

** Via not say so ! do not say so ! " said liobert, pitcously. 

" Well, Robert, slic docs not hate you, you may be sure of that. 
Why is she in such a hurry to go away?" 

"Beeanae site has »ome one in her own country she likes better 
than me." 

"Ay I tliat is the way you boys read women. More likely she 
ia afraid of liking you too well, and making mischief in a family." 

"Oh, mother, do you think it is that?" 

"Tiiere, I am a fool to tell you sucli things" 

" Oh, no, no, no ! There is no friend like a mother.*' 

"There is no fool like a mother, that is my belief." 

"Kof no! Give mc some comfort, mother; tell me yoa see 
Botne signs of liking in her." 

" Well, then, wlicu she Js quite sure you are not looking her 
wBTt I can sec her eye dwell upon you as if it was at home." 

"Ob, how happy you make me; but, mother, how you mnst 
kave watched her ?" 

** Of course, I watched her, and yon, too. I \c seen a long 
while how matters were going." 

" Bur you never spoke to Rose, or my father?'* 

" If I had, she would have been turned out of the house, and a 
Kiod job, too ; but you would have fretted, you know," and ^Iw, 
Hathorn Mished. 



"Mother, 1 must kiss you. I shall have courage to speak to 
fiither about it now." 

*' Take a thoii-jht, Robert. His heart is set upon your manring 
your cousin. It would be a bitter pill to the poor old man, and Ills 
temper is ver^- busty. Kur Heaven's sake, take u thought. I 
don't know what to do, I am sure." 

" 1 most do it soon or late," said Robert, resolutely. " Xo time 
so good as now. Father is hasty, and he will he angry, no doubt; 
but after a while he will yive In ; I don't ask him favours every 
day. Do you consent, mother?" 

" Oh, Robert, what is the use asking me whether I consent? I 
have only one son, and he is a good one. I am afraid 1 could not 
say nn to your happiness, suppose it was my duly to say no;" bat 
your father is not such a fool as I nra, and I am main doubtfal 
whctluT he will ever consent, I wish you could think bolter 
of it?" 

"1 will try him, 'mother, no later than to-day. Why. here he 
crimes. Oh, there is Mr. Casenowt;r witli liini; that is unlucky. 
You jfct htm away» mother, and I '11 open my mind to father." 

Old Hathorn came past the window, and entered the room 
wliere Robert and Mrs. Hathorn were. The farmer stumped in, 
and sat down with some appearattce of fatigue. Mr, Casenower 
sat down opposite him. 

That gentleman had in his hand a cabbage. He was proving to 
tlie farmer Uiat this plant is more nutritious than the potato. Tbe 
theory was German in the first instance. "There are but three 
nourisliing principles in all food," argued Mr. Casenower, "and of 
tliose what we call ' fibrine,' is the most effective. Now, see, I 
put my nail to this stalk, and it readily reduces itself to a bundle 
of little fibres ; see, tho*e arc pure fibrine, and, taken into the 
stomach, make the man muscular. Can anything be clearer:" 

Mr. Ilatliorn, mIiq Iind shown symptoms of impatience, replied 
to this effect, " That he knew by personal experience that cabbage 
turns to nothing but hot water in a man's belly." 

"There arc words to come out of a man's mouth!" objected 
Mrs. Hathorn. 

" Better than cabbage going into it," grunted the fanner. 

" Ah, you know noting of chemixtry, my good friend.'* 

" Well, sir, you say there is a deal of heart in a cabbage?" 

« 1 do." 

"Then I tell you what 1 'U do with you, sir. There is sonie 
fool li&s been and planted half an acre of cabbages in my barlev- 

" It was not a fool," put in Mra. Hatborn, sliarply, " it was me." 

" It was not n fool, you sec, sir; it was a woman," responded 
Hathorn, mighty drily- " Well, sir, you train on the Dame's 
cabbages for a month, and all that time i 'U eat nothing stronger 
than beef and bacon, and at the end of tbe month I'll fight you 
for a pot of beer, if you are so minded." 

"Thi* is the way we reason in the country, eh, Mr. Hobcrtf 

"Ym, sir, it would serve father right if you took bin* up, sir, 



with his game leg; bat I don't hold wUh eabhfljfcs for »]] that; 
a lumip is watery enough, but a cabbage and a sponge are 
prattj much one, it seems to me." 

"Mr. Casenower," put in Mrs. Unthorn, "didn't you promise 
to show me a pansey in your garden, that is to win the next prize 
at Wallingford?" 

** I did, Ma'am, but you should not call it * Pansey ;* ' Heart's- 
ttse' is bad enuugl), without going back to ' Pansev.' Viola tri~ 
eolorxt the name of the tttiwer — the scientific name.'* 
»* No," said old Hathom, stoutly. 

** No ! What do you mean by no ?" 

•* >\'hat arc names for? To remember things by; then the 
seientifickest name must be the one tliat it is easiest to remember. 
Now, pansey is u deal easier to remember than ' vile tricolour.*" 

" 1 am at your service, Mrs. Ilathnrn; come along, for Hcaven"'s 
nke;" and off bustled Mr. Casenower towards the ^den with 
Mrs. Hatborn. 

** Father," said Robert, after nn aneasy pause^ •* I have some- 
thing to tay to you, very particular." 

** I lave you, though ? well, out »rith it, my lad !" 

" Father I"— 

At this moment, in bustled Mr. Casenower again. " Ob, Mr. 
Robert, I forgot something. Let me tell you, now 1 think of it. 
I irant you to find out this Rebecca Reid for me. She lives 
aamrwhcrc near, within a few miles. I don't exactly know how 
manv. Can't you find her out?" 

" Why, sir." said Robert, "it is like looking for one poppy in a 
field of <itan<ling wheat." 

" Vo, no I when you go to market, ask all the farmers from 
diffeictit parishes whether they know lier." 

" Haw, haw, haw ! " went Haihomj senior. " Yes, do, Robert. 
\U, ho t" 

"Hare yua any idea what he is laughing at?" said Mr. Casc- 
Doavr, drily. 

" Father thinks yoo will make me the laughing-stock of the 
market, sir," said Robert, with a fuint smile; ''but never mind 
him, air, 1 shell try and oblige you." 

" You are a good fellow, Robert. I must go back to Mrs. 
Hathom," and off he bustled Hgniii. 

" Fiither," began Robert; but before he could open his subject, 
Toices were heani outside, and Mrs. Mayfieldcame in, followed by 
^- Kicbord Hickman, 
^b "Tic! tic! tic!" said poor Robert, pccTishly, for he foreiaw 
^K^dlf^s interruptions. 

^^^p31r. Hickman had been for some minutes past employed in the 
^^lStreea*'le occupation of bringine; Mrs. Mayhcid to the point; but, 
I m various reasiinj, Mrs. MayUeld did not want to be brought to 
I tb* point that forenoon. One of those reasons was, that although 
she liked Hickman well enough to marry him, she liked somebody 
ebe better, and she was not yet sura as to this person's ittteiitiona. 
She wanted, tbcrefo/e, to he certain she could not hate VwA, 

vat, xxxvr. o 





before she committed herself to Peter. Now, certain ladies whi 
they do not want to be brought to the point, liave ways of avoid- 
ing it that a man would hardly hit upon. One of them in, to he 
conKtantly moving about; for^ they argue, "if he can't pin my 
body to any spot, he can't pin my soul, for my soul is contained 
in my body," and tliere is n certain %'ulgar philosuphy in thib 
Another is, to be so absorbed in some smaJI matter, that just thou 
they cannot do justice to the larger question, and so modestly 
postpone it. 

** Will 1 be yours till death us do part? now, hov cag I tcU 
yon just now? such a question demands at tca»t some attention; 
and look at this bole iu my lace-coUar, which J am mending; if I 
don't give my whole soul to it, how can I mend it prnpcrly ? " 

Mr. IlicVman hud no snoner shown Mrs. Mayficld that he 
wanted to bring her to the point, tlian he found iiimsclf in fur 
some hard work: twice he had to cross the farmyard with her: 
be had to take up a sickly chicken and pronounce upon its ail- 
ment He had tu get some milk in a pail and give one of her 
calrcs a drink. He had to bring one cow from paddock to stall, 
and another from stall to paddock. Hearen knew why — and 
when all this and iiiucli mure was done, the lady caught sight of 
our friends in the Halhorns' Icitchen, and cr^-ing briskly, '' come 
this way," led Mr. Hickman into company where !>he knew be 
could not press the inopportune topic* 

" Curse lier I" muttered the enamoared one, as be followed bei 
into the llathorns' kitchen. 

After the usual greetings, the farmer observing Robert's impa- 
tience, said to ilickmait, " If you will excuse me for a minut^ 
farmer, Uobert wants to speak to mc; we are going towards the 
barn." He then beckoned Mrs. MayBeld, and whispered in her 
car, '* Don't let this one set you against my Robert, that is worth 
a hundred of liira." 

Mrs. Mnyfietd whimpered in return, "and don*t let your llobert 
shilly-shally so, because this one does not — you understand — " 

" All rigtit,'^ replied Hatliorn, " ten to one if it is nut you he 
wants to spcftk to me about." 

Ilathorn and his son then sauntered into the farmyard, and 
Mickman gained what he had been trying for so long,a quiet ISte- 
fi-trte with Mrs. Mayfield — for all that, if a woman is one of those 
that have a wish, it is dangerous to drive her to tiic point. 

" "Well, Mrs. Maytield," said he, quietly hut firmly, " 1 am 
courting you this six months, and now I should be glad to hare 
my answer. * Yes,' or ' no,' if you please." 

Mrs. Mayficid sidled towards the window: it commanded the 
farmyard: Robert and his father were walking slowly up and 
down by the side of the farmyard )>ond. Mrs. Mayfidu watched 
tlicm intently, tJicn half turning towards Hickman, slic said slowly, 
" \N by as to that, Mr. Hickman, you hare certainly come after me 
awhile, and I'll not deny I find you very good company; but I 
have been married once and made a great mistake, as you 
aesrd, I dare say, $o now I am ohbgeu to be cautious.'^ 




ou have ■ 




** What, are you afruci uf my teni|)er, Ruse } 1 am not reckoned 
a bad-tern pcrcd onp, any murA than yourself.'' 

" Oh, nu ! 1 have no fault to find with you — only we hare not 
been acquainted su very lung." 

" That is a fault wUl mend every day." 

"Qf course it will; vrell, when you are settled on Bix, we shall 
%ee you mostly every day, and tht-n we sliall know one another 
bcltart for if you have no fanlts, I have; and tJien you will kiiuw 
better what aort of a bargain you are making; and then — we will 
Ke fit^ut it." 
" Better tell the truth," said the all^obserrant Hickman. 
"Tlie truUi!" 

*' At I that the old man wants you to marry Bob Hathom^ 
Oh ! I atu down u[K>n him tliis many a day." 

** Ruben Hathorn is nothing to me," replied the Mayficld, 
"but since you put him in my head, I confess I might do 

** How could Ton do worse than marry a lad who has nothing 
but hi» two arma i " 

Sin. Mayftcld looking stily through the window, observed 
Hubert and his father to be in earnest conversation ; this some- 
what coloured her aiiaw«r. She replied quickly, " Better poor 
and iMUMSt, than half rich and three parts of a rogue 1" 

''la Utat for mc, if you please ?" said Hickman, calmly bat 

*' No! I don't aay it is," replied the lady, fearful she had gone 
too Ear; '* but still I wonder at your choosing this time for press- 
ing me." 

•' Why not this lime, as well as another, pray f " and Uickman 
•yed her intently, though secretly. 

** Why not ! said she, and she jmtiscd ; for the dialogue be- 
tween Hathorn and bis son was now so animated, that the father's 
tunes reached even to her car. 

",\rl why not?" repeated Hickman. 

The lady turned on him, and with a sudden change of manner, 
said very sharply, " Ask your own conscionco." 
"" 1 don't know what you mean ! " 

" I 'U tell you. This old Patrick was miscalling you, when he 
fell ill. Tiu-y say it was a stroke of tlie sun — may be it was; but 
1 should say pn-<uion had something to do with it too; the old 
man said words to you that none of the others noticed, but [ did. 
He said as much as tliat you had robbed some one of what is 
before life in this world.'' 

"Ay, and what is before life, 1 wonder?** said the satirical 

" Why, nothing,'' replied the frank Mrs. Majpfield, "if you go 
to that; but it is a common saying tliat a 'good name is before 
Uie,' and that is what the old man meant.** 

** I wonder yuu should take any notioe of what that old man 
says, and above all his dimghtcr." 

" His daughter, Mr. W/cAman / ^Vhy, I neTcr luentwncA \vw 

G 2 



daughter, for my part. You hare been and put your own briclcB 
on my foundation," 

Hickman looked confused. 

•• You are a fool, Richard Hickman ! Tou have told me more 
than I knew, and 1 see more than you tell rae. You have led that 
girl astray, and deserted her likely, you little scamp !" (Hickmftn 
wa-f fivo foot ten.) 

" Nonsense !" put in Hickman. "That Rnchacl shall never come 
between tou and me ; but I Ml tell you wlio the girl stands between ; 
you and your Robert, that the farmer wants to put in the .traces 
with you Bgainst his will.'* 

"You are a liar!" cried Rose Mayfield, colouring to her 

Hickman answered coolly, "Thank you for the compliment. 
Rose. No, it is the truth. You see, when a man is wrapped up 
in a woman, as 1 am in you, he finds out everything that concerns 
her; and your hoy, Tom, tells me that Robert is as fond of her 
as a cow of a calf.'* 

" He fond of that Racbael ! No I" 

" Why, Rachacl is a well-looking lass, if you go to that." 

"And 80 she is," pondered Mrs. Mayfield ; and in a moment 
many little cirouni stances in Ruhcrt's conduct became clear by this 
new light Hickman had gi%'cii her. She struggled, and rceorered 
her outward composure. "Well," said slic, stootJy, "what is it 
to me ? " 

" W\ty, not much, I hope. Give me your hand. Rose ; / don't 
fancv any girl but you. And name the day, if you wUl be so 

"Xo, no!" said Rose Mayfield, nearly crying with x'exation, 
"I won't mnrry any of you, a set of rogues and blockheads. And 
if it is true, I don't thank you for telling me. You arc a sly, 
spiteful dog, and 1 don't cure bow often you ride past my house 
without hooking bridle to the gate, Dick Hickman." 

Hickman bit bis lips, but he kept his temper. "What! all 
this becriiise Boh Hathurn's tiistc is nut so good as minel Ought 
I to suffer for his folly ? " 

"Oh, it is not for that, don't think it! But 1 don't want b 
lover that hiis ruined other women ; it is not lucky, to say the 

"What, all this, liecauae a girl jumped into my arms one day. 
Why, 1 am not so hard upon you. I hear tales about you, you 
Icnow, hut I only laugh — even about Frank Fairfield and you. 
(Mrs. Mayfield gave a little start.) Neither you nor I are angels, 
you know. Why should wc be hard on one another?" 

Mrs. Mayfield, red as fire, interrupted him. "My faults, if I 
have any, Iiave hurt me only; but yours never hurt vou, and 
ruined others ; and you say no more amiut me than you know, ur 
you will get a slap in the mouth, nnd there's my door; you take 
it at a word, and I'll excuse any furtlier visits from you, Mr. 
7'hese words, with a finger pointing to the door, and a flashing 






eye, left notiiing for Hickman bul to retire, which he did, boiling 
with indignation, mortitication, and revenge. "This is all along 
of Raehael. Slic has blown me," muttered he between his teeth. 
*• 1 have got the bag ; you shan't gain anytliiiig by it, Kacliael !" 

It vilt be remembered that when Patrick lay dying or dead, as 
he supposed, this Uickuian had a good impulse, and tuld Hachael 
be would never desert licr: in this he was perfectly liincere at the 
moment. People utterly destitute of principle abound in impulses. 
TlicT have guod impulses, which generally come to nothing or 
next to nothing; and bad impulses, which tlicy put in practice. 

3fr. Hickman had time to think over his good impulse, and, 
accordingly, he thought better of it, and found that Kose May- 
field was Coo great a prize to resign. He therefore kept out of the 
vay more then a week, (a suspicious circumstance, which Mrs. 
Maylield did not fuit to coii]>le with old Patrick's words), and his 
pity fur Uachacl cvnporatcd in all that time. *' What the worse 
is she lor me now ? Hang her, 1 offered her money, and what 
not; but 1 suppose nothing will serve her turn but hooking me 
for life, or else naving her spite out, and spiUing my milk for me 

It was M fixed notion in this man's mind that Rachael would do 
all she could to ruiri his suit with Mrs. Mavbcld, and when he got 
the " sack," or, as he vulgarly called it, '• the bag," he attributed it, 
in spite of Rose Maylield's denial, to some secret revelation on 
Rachael's part, and a furious impulse to be revenged on her took 
possession of him. 

Now this bad impulse, unlike his good one, had no time to cool. 
As lie went towards the stable, the devil would have it he shnuld 
meet Koliert Hathom. At sight of Iiim our worthy acted upon 
bis iaipulse. Robert, who was coining hastily from his father, 
with his brow knit and his countenance flushed, would have passed 
Hidtman with the usual greeting, but Hickman would not let him 
off so easily. 

*' IVfiat, so rou have got my old lass here still. Master Kol>ert ? ** 

■• Your old iass ! Not that I know of." 

** Hachael Wright, you know." 

*' iiachael VV right, your lass !" 

" Ay! and a very nice lass too, till we fell out. She gave me a 
broatl hint just now, but I am fur higher c.-ime. Vou could not 
lend me a spar, could you, Mr. Robert ? Mme is broken." 

•• Xu." 

''Nevermind; good morning! good morning!" 

Hickman's looks and contemptuous tones had eked out the few 
words with which be had stabbed Robert, and, together with the 
libertine cliaracter of the man, had etl'eciuuUy blackened itacbael 
in Robert's eyes. 

This done, away went the poisoner, and chuckled as he went. 

Robert Plathom stood pale iis death, looking after him. To 
this stupefaction succeedca a feeling of sickness, and a sense of 
despair, and Robert sat down upon the shaft of an empty cart, 
and gaacd with stonr eyo ujxm uie ground at hia feel, H'xa tee\- 
U3ga were inexpressibly bitter, li'ijere waa he lo Impe to tini 



a woman he could respect if this paragon was a girt of loose i 
duct. Tlieii came rcuiorse *. for tliis Rachael be ti»d diis moment 
all hut quarrelled with his fatiicr — their first serious misundcr- 
standintf. After a fierce struggle with iiimself, he forced himself 
to sec that she must be wrciiclied out of his heart. He rose, pale 
but stern, after a silent ^ony, that lasted a full hour» though to 
him it seemed but a minute, and went and looked after his fadier. 
He found him in the barn wntchins; the thrashers, but like one 
who did not see whnt he van louking at. His countenance was 
fallen and sad ; the great and long-cherished wish of his heart had 
been shaken, and by his son ; and then he had giren that son 
bitter and an^y words, and threatened him ; and that son had 
answered respectfully, but firmly as iron, and the old man*s heart 
b^an to sink. 

lie looked up, and there was Robert, pale and stem, looking 
steadfastly at him, with an evpression he quite misunderstood. 
Old I lathorn lifted his head and said sharply and bitterly to his son, 


** Father," said Rolwrt, in a languid roice, ** I am come to aslc 
your pardon." 

Farmer Hathorn looked astonished. Robert went on. 

" I'll marry any woman you like, father — ^they are all one to me 

___ " ' 


" Whr, what is the matter. Bob ? that is too much the oClier 

" And if 1 said anything to vex you, foi^ve me, father, if yon 

" No I no ! no ! " cried old Hnlhom, *' no more about it, Bob ; 
there was no one to blume hut my hasty Icmper,^ — no more about 
it. Why, if the poor chap hasn't taken it quite to heart, hasn't a 
morsel of colour Left in bis cheek I" 

*' Never mind my looks,** gasped Robert. 

"And don't you mind my words cither then. Robert, you have 
made me happier titan I have been any time this twenty years !" 

" I am glad of it," gasped Robert. ** I'll look to this, if you 
have anything else to do," He wanted to be alone. 

" Thank you. Hob ; I want to go into the villaffti ; keep up your 
heart, my lad. She is the best-lookint; woman I know, with the 
best heart / ever met, and 1 am older than you, and you see the 
worst of her the first day ; her good part you are never at the 
bottom of; it is just the contrary with the sly ones. There, there ! 
I'll say no more. Good bye." And away went the old farmer, 

" Be happy," sobbed Robert*; " I am glad there is one happy.** 
And be sat down cold as a stone in his father's place. After 
awhile he rose and walkeil listlessly about, till at last his feet took 
him through habit into bis father's kitchen ; on entering it his wliolc 
frume took a sudden thrill, for he found Rachael there tying up her 
bundle for a journey. She had heard his step, and her head was 
turnL'd away from the door; but near her was a small round, old- 
htghioned, mirror, and glancing into thta Robert saw that tears wero 
staaiiog down iter /ace. 






Ttfv laatoTy of the War in Afghanistan has b<^en woriliilj written 
br Mr. Kavc, We then: rt-ad of a greut natmual crime, signally 
ind promptly punished; ami pven the first successes we olil:itnetl 
0d1t inlleo its the more completely into a fatal security, anft be- 
cune a part of tht" penalty. Tlie choice of comnjandcrs was most 
aof«>rtnnalc, and prohalile victory was conrerled into almoRt cer- 
bun disaster whilst Nott and Sale played suhordinatc parts to 
KesoD and Elphinstouv. 

One of the ablest, if not the ablest man, who serTod in that war 
w«s WflUmm Nolt, ihc hero of Candabar. To Pollock, Nott, and 
Sale, more than to any plan of lite Government, were owing the 
icstoniion of presittje to the British arms in India, and ihe con- 
vemon of a long scries of disgrnco-i inio honourable viclorj'. If 
in any nuncr ihe history of ihaL war, told in sacb animated 
iKagoage byhs giAed anthor, conld have lieen even more interest* 
iBg, it would have been by the papers of Sir William Nott. Had 
those b*en forthcoming, a few mote grapbic pagt-s would haro Iwen 
added to Kaye's adniirablo history; and Not ('k cfaaraeter, wliich 
was b%- DO ucans an ordinary character, and had strong contrasts 
of ligbt and shndi. — Nott would then iiarc been painted by one 
able lo appreciate bis manly indfiiendcnce. The letters of Nott 
are amongst the most interesting written at diat slirring period. 
Wttb such a theme, and with these letters, a biography might have 
been written which should satisfy the pnldic, vindicate Nott from 
Bn3u»t criljcii^m, and form a valtiablc supplement to Kaye's great 
btUory. " The business of a biographer," says l>r. Johnson, " i« 
In gire a complete account of the person whose life he is writing, 
■nd 10 diftcriioinatc him from all other persons, by any pecidi- 
aniiea of cbanu^ter and sentiment he may happen to have." In 
Um latter quality, so reiini^itc to make a bio^raplij intcrciiting, 
Mr. S(o<'«acler i» completely deficient; and thongh Nott was 
eminently possissed of qualities which diatinguiahed him from 
Other men, the editor has not been at any pains to point them 
out, and (liiiB an opportunity is lost of impressing on the public 
mind the features of a lorty character. Tlie letters, reprints from 
tlif Hurkaru, and general orders, are strung together, in many 
reapects very carelessly, and somclimcs without the rcqnisiie com- 
nent Indeed, we should almost have preferred the Ivtlers by 
tkeniselTes, wholly unaccompanied by onr cicerone. Nott liim- 
^K i» intereatiiig, but Stocqueler is evidently not eqoal to the task 

a has uodertakeii. 
W« regret to have to s^ this; bat it is impossible not to fed 

• Mmoirs and Corre<pomlCT>cr of riminal Sir WBIinai Nott, G.C.B. By 
T. U. Siocquclcr. 2 tuh. llut>t atiU UWketl : \&iA. 



taortification vlicn a noble tlieme like this is spoilt for other hands, 
aud ou opportunity it. lost of uortraying in lasting colours a singu- 
larly indcptiiidciit, manly, ami t^lruiig character. 

Nott had one ^rcut faith, not iincomninnly fotind in alliance 
with oiilitary genius ; he was a very obsliuate^ si^lf-wiUed man. 
Moreover, he was quick to taki: offunce, and in fioine in»Uncos 
discovered a disposition to underrate those around and about 
hiui ; auiong the^c darker traits, hovcver, tlivre rose iu relief many 
of the truufil iiobilify. Nott was a line specimen of a soldier, 
Trunk, manly, fearless ; yet ever pnideni, warm in his friendships, 
as he was Kiroug iu his antipathies, and not hhiinking from respou- 
sibiltty under most difiicuk circumstances. Had llie hero of 
Candahar had the conduct of aff-drs at Cauhul, the whole aspect 
of thai disastrous war would most probably have been changed, 
and Kott might have incurred Llie responsibility of putting astde 
Sir William McNafthtcn. A stattsman, irhose opinion has ac- 
quired a tenfold value since his death has revealed the extent of 
our loss, thought must higlily of him. Whilst jjrojKisitig a vole 
of thanks to the hcrocK who redeemed tlic national honour at 
Cauhul and Ciliuznec, Sirltuberl Peel «pokc of Sir William Nott 
as possessing "a uoblo spirit equal to any ciuergcncy." Nott 
came from no " long line of noble ancestors," but was himself the 
founder of bis family. Charles Nolt, his father, was a farmer, or, 
to use the language of the editor, singularly ap]>lied when s|h!ak- 
ing of an English yeoman, " farming was his milter." JJut the 
euUuislasm of hi» 6un for arms showed itself at fifteen, when he 
enrolled himself a member of the Carmarthenshire volunteer 
corps, and soon afterwards obtained a Bengal cadeLship. His pro- 
gress was slow and uuas»i:itud by fortuue or by patronage, and 
wljen he rose to command, he was thwarted by Sir John Kcane 
and by others \%*ho became jealous of his superiority. He had 
not the good fortune of the Great Duke, and no Marquess of 
Wellesley to feel a warm interest in his career. When honours 
poured in at last, he was worn out in the public serrice, and 
brulien down by disease of the heart acquired iu Affghanistan. 
His lin^L wife was dead, and lie had Inst many of his children. 
To one so wann and strong in his affections, these repeated afflic- 
tions had made him yearn fur retirement, nor could even the 
splendours of Lucknow, nor the income of au envoy, detain hiin 
in India. One inlcrcsitTig trait of character must be mentioned 
as showing the sterling worth of iliis able soldier. During his 
long occupation of Candaliar, and amidst the horrors of a mors 
than usually horrible war, Nott's constant companion was a volume 
of Scott's Commentary on ihe Bible. Had some of liis letters 
been omitted, others abridged, and the whole accompauied with 
judicious comment, these two volumes might easily have been 
Drought into one. Nott's characler, in many respects, indeed, 
might have been studied witli advantage by those who are training 
for military service. As it is, his life, with its strong mond teach- 
ing, self-reliance, and manly indcpeadcQce, remain* yet to be 



be m 


TaBiR llisTOBV — Past akd Pbesent. 



Thik liousc appears to hare been oueof the moat Hucieut erected 
in LoodoD, bciug referred tu in a puritanical piiraphlct published 
at the bi-f^iniiinf; of the Heventeentli century as one of the play- 
hoi»»M destroyed by the " cautious citizens" iu 1580. Descjint- 
ing on the vices of that period, the writer says : — " Manv goodlv 
citizens and n'e]l-<Ii-4p05cd gentlemen of London, considcriug that 
playhouM:s and dicing-houses verc traps for young geutleuien and 
others, and perccintig that maur incourciiieuces and great dninage 
would ensue upon the long stilfcriiig of the same, nctjuainted some 
piuuf niagistratcs thereof, «*ho tbereupou made humble suite to 
Uueeiic Elizabeth, aud ber Privy Counciil, and obtnincd leave from 
llcr Mnjeaty to thrust the players out of the city, and to pull 
doiru aU playhouses and diciug-houaes irithiu their liberties, whicli 
accordingly was effected, and the playhousea in Gmcicua Street, 
£»hop«gatc Street, that uigU Tnul's, that on Ludi^atc Hill, and 
the Whit^-friars, were quite pulled down and Huppnj:);i>cd by these 
religioua senators." The playhouses here referred to, in addition 
to Ihe Wbitefriara,* were the three inu-vards of the Cross Keys 
iu Qracechurch Street, the Bull in Bisliopsgate Street, and the 
BeUe-Saurage on Ludgatc Hill; "that nigh Paul's" was the 
aiagitig school at the buck uf the Convocation House. 

From lliia time there is a blank in the history of the Wliite- 
fWars Tlieatre until 1613, when a licence was granted by James 
the First to build a theatre on Lbc spot. During the interval it 
was no doubt in ruins. In the offiec^tiook of the M'aster of the 
Itevels tliere is an entry — " July 13, 1013, for a licence to erect a 
new playhouse iu the Whitefriars, 2(W." It is doubtful, however, 
whether the proposed scheme was then put into execution, ua in 
l<>'.jy a new theatre ci'ected iu Salisbury Court. 

Referring to the resumptiou of this licence, and explanatory of 
the number of theatres which had nprung up iu the metropolis, 
ku extract may be given firom Edmund Howe's continuation of 
Stew's "Chronicle" (1631). After describing the destruction of 
the Globe by fire in 1613, and the buruing of the Fortune a few 
yrsn later, he alludes to the rebuilding of both houses, iind the 
erection of " a new fair plnybouse near the Whitefriars." The 
writer then adds; — 

* Th« name ttf ihis localtty i% derived from the charch and conTcnt of the 
Careidilo, or W|ut« Friars, founded in tliit place ia tli« yvia 1:141, by Sir 
Bieturd Grey. 



" Autl tills is tlic seventeenth stage, or common pln^houac, wliich 
hflth been new made within the space of threescore ycnra within 
Londou and the suburbs, vix., five inns, ur couimou hostelries 
turned to playhouses, one cockpit,* St. Paul's sinj^ing school, one 
on the Bankside, and one in the Whitefriars^ which was built lait 
of all, in the yeut one tbousaud six huudred aud twenty-nine. 
All the common jilayhnuHes, besides that new-built bear-gnr<lon, 
which was built as well for plays and fencers' prizes aa bull- 
baitiug; besides one iu former time at Newitigtou ^utts. Before 
the space of tlireeacore years abovcaaid I ncitber knew, heard, nor 
read of any such theatrca, »ct stages, or playhouses, aa have been 
purpwely built within man's memory." 

It m probable thnt the 'Whitefriars Tlicatrc of 1629 was not 
erected on tlic site of the one previously situate in thnt locality, 
for Prjiine speaks of it Jis then newly built, not rebuilt, nnd in 
the name place he mentions tlic rebuilding of the Fortune and tlic 
Ked Bull. 

The history of WilUam Prynne who is here referred to is not 
unconnected with that of the stage at this period. He was a man 
of lofty principle and of stern integrity, and was born in Somer- 
setshire iu KiOO; trained to the bar, he rose to eminence iu his 
calling, and became a bencher and reader of Lincoln's Inn. In 
1632 appeared his " IListrio-Mastix," in which the profe^ion of 
the actor was severely libelled, and in which the author, in 
addition to Lis own invectives, furnished & collection of passages 
recorded by other writers ngniust thei;trical representation s. 
Severe rcSectiona upon female jierformcrs were likc^'iRc given, 
which were cou»trued to be pai-tially levellttl at the Queen (who 
bad played iu a pastornl), and a prosecution was commenced. 
Prynne was brought to the Star Chamber on the 7th of l^ebruary, 
1632, and received the following sentence: — He wa* to pay a fine 
of 5,000/. — be expelled the University of Oxford and Lincoln's Inn 
— stand twice in the pillor}*, losing an car each time — and remain 
a prisoner for life ! After the degradaiiuu of the piUorj- he was 
removed to Carnarvon Castle, and subsequently to Jersey. In 
1G40 he regained fais liberty and liis station in society: elected a 
member foi' Newport, he bore a prominent part in the trial of 
I»Hud, his former persecutor, and died on the 2-lth of October, 
1660, holding at the time an appointment under Goremmcnt. 

The jiarticulars of the Whitefriars Theatre appear to be almost 
confined to the date of its demolition (1580) and reconstruction 

The house was evidently open in 16^, being referred to in the 

ilowing memorandum from the MS. hook of Sir Henry Herb 


Henry Herbert, 

Master of the Kevels to Charles the First : — 

"I committed Cromca, a broker in Long-lane, the 10th of 
February, 1G34, to the Marslialscy, for lending a church robe 
with the name of Jesus upon it, to the players in Salisbury -con rt, 
to represent a Fliuucu, a priest of the heathens. Cpon his peti- 



Diuiy Lane, 

f"— H 



of mbmissioQ stkI nckimwlcdgmcnt of hia faulty I released 

^iam Ibe I7tli of Fcbnian-, IfiiU." 
The Whiiefriare Theatre probably shared tlie fate of the Black- 
friara and the Globe, and was fiually removed at the commcocc- 
Dieat of the Commou wealth. 




Of this Uouea — which was situated bctireen Whitcoroas Street 
and Goldcu J^oe — information is less barren tlum that of some of 
it* contcuporary structures. It was the large»t and be»t uf Uio 
theatrm tbit had been raised in ICugUiid. The coutract fur iu 
erertiaa is still prcscn'ed. It ia dated tlte 8th day of January, 
1599, and the cugagenient is entered into ou the one part by 
Philip Hensluwe and Edward AUeyn, and ou the other tiy Peter 
Strectc, a builder, "for the erectiugc, buildiuge, and setting up of 
a uew bouse and stage for a playhouse, in and uppon a certaiuc 
plolte or peeec of grounde appoynted onte for that purpose, seituate 
and being Mar Golding-Une, in the parish of Saint Giles without 
C^pplcjpte of Loudon." From this indenture wc lauii that the 
hooM bmd three tiers, consisting of boxea, rooms, and galleries ; 
that ^e width of the stage was forty-three feet, and the depth 
thirtr-niac aud a half, whicU included, probably, the " tiring-house ** 
at the back. In the construction of this house, the plan previously 
idopted at the Globe (with the esceptiou of the shape) appears to 
IWTV been selected. The document already qaotnci contains the 
CoUtwriii^ : — " With fower ennvcnient divi&ions for gentlemen's 
foaoMs* and other sufficieut aud convcnieut divisions for twoo- 
pennie roonics ; with neceesaire scats to be placed and SL-Ct ns well 
m thoac roomca; as throughont all the rcat of the galleries of the 
■aid bowse ; and with such like stearcs, conveyances, aud divisions 
without and within, as are made and contrived in and to tlic late- 
ereciad playbouac on the Banckc, in the said i*ari»h of Saint Sn- 
vionr, called The Olube; with a rtadge and IjTving-howac to be 

made, erected, and sett npp within the saidc frame The 

■aide itadge to be in all other proportiunt contrived and fashioned 
like unto the stadgc of the saidc nluyhouse called The Globe." 
According to the termn of this inaenturc, the theatre was to be 
OOffipleted before the " fire aud twentieth daie of Julie next, comc- 
ingemAer the date hereof" (1599); and Peter Strcete, for his labour 
ai^skilljwaato receive "the full ?omc of fower hundred and fortic 
powndct of lawfull money of Knglande." 

A memorandum in the liandwriting of Allcyn affords an insight 
iaCo the entire cost of the building, with the inheritance of the 
land adjoining—" So in all it coat me 1320/." Likt- the Globe, 
which it resembled in its details though not in form, it had to en- 
oouoter dc»lmeti(ni by fire. A letter in Dr. Bircli's Collection in 
the British Muneura, bearing date December 15, 1021, conveys the 
fallowing intelligence : — " On Sundny night here wai a great fire 
* Our pmeat boies. 



at the Fortune in Goldlng-Iane, the first playhouse in this town. 
It was quite burnt duwiie in two hours, and all their apparell 
and play-books lost, whorcby tlioso poorc couipaniuiis are quite 

The Fortune was a playhousu of considerable size, at ^hich the 
Lord Admiral's Servnuts porforiiiRii. The prolof^ue to the " Roar- 
iiig Girl" — acted at this house, and printed in 1611 — has the 

*' A rosriniE R>>'t< whose notes till now D«*er «er«, 
SJuiU 611 with Ijiuglilcr our va»t tKcJilrc;" 

and Prynue, in his " Ilistrio-Mastix," says that the house on its 
being rebuilt was still further enlarged. The front of the theatre 
was adorned with cither a statue or pictnrc of Fortune, to winch 
Hoywood miikcs reference in his " English Traveller" (1633) : — 

"I'le rstUerstacKJ here 
Lik« a 8tatu« in the (bre-front of your house 
For cv«rt like the picture ofdmnc Foriuoc 
Before the Fortune playhouse." 

The managers of this theatre were favoured with th'c smiles of 
the goddess who adorned their tetuplej and "made money." Of 
Ilenslowc we have an uccasiDiial notiec when Uen Junsun, or an 
equally nnfortunate brother playwright — whose name would now 
eall up a mingled feeling of re%'ere»ce and respect — sought of him 
the loan of a few shillings, to be repaid by the labour of the brain. 
In Hcusloffc's diary of July, 1597— he beiug then a theatrical 
manager — he records a loan of four pounds to " Benjamin Jousod, 
jilayer;" aud on the 3rd of December of the same year he further 
advances him twenty shillings, " upou a book which he was to 
write for us before Christmas next." Sueh were the straits of 
genius. Jonson, iu anticipation of his " Comedy of Humours," 
produced at the Ilo&e, received au advance of five shilUugs, and 
ten shiUings, and " onee a pound." 

Of Edward Alleyn we have a more grateful remembrftncc. lie 
was horu on the 1st of September, 150:2, and was endowed with 
the most essential requisites wliieh compose a good actor. Baker, 
iu his '* Chronicles," says, " lie was such an actor as uo age must 
ever look to see the like ;" whilst Iluywoud observes that he was 
"Proteus for shape and Rosclns for a tongue." As chief pro- 
prietor of the Fortune, he applied his weiUth to a noble purpose. 
On the 2lst of June, ICLO, a licence was granted him by James 
the First to found and establish a college at Dulwich for one 
master, one warden, four fellows, si.x pour brethren, six poor 
sisters, and twelve poor eehulars, "tu be maintained, sustained, 
educated, guided, governed, and ruled according to such statutes 
as should be orduiued by Mr. Alleyu himself in his lifetime, or by 
other persons after his death." the ** College of God's Gift " at 
Dulwick was thus founded. At first there was a surplus of 200/. 
per year, which has since increased to some thousands. 

Edward Alleyn died on the 25th of Iv'ovember, 1626, but 
the good work bad been accomplished, lu 1811 the master. 




wflrd«o, and fellows of I>ulwicJi College were bequeathed the pic- 
turn of Sir Frsncis Bourgeois, nith funds for building a gnllery 
nnd defraying the expenses of the preservation of the pictures. 
The paiutiiig8 in this collection were collected by Hfr. Noel 
Desenfans, a picture-dealer in Tjondon, for Stanislans, King of 
PoUnd ; bnt in consequence of the dismemberment of that 
kingdom, mnny of these pictures remained in the hsindsofMr. 
Dcscufans, who, in 1807, hetiueatliwl them to his friend. Sir FrnnciB, 
It vhoso death (Janunrr 8, 181 1} tliey became connected with the 
institution of Edward Allcju. 

The plories of the Fortune Theatre are gone, save in imngina- 
tion, and the spot it occupied is ditficult to be traced; but the 
"College of God'tf Gift" reuuiina, and unceasingly speaks of a 
pUycr's libendity. 

There w but little to be said of the remaining tlieatres of this 
pf^n'od. The Red Bull waa situate near the upper cud of St. John 
Street, ClerkenwcU ; and during the civil war was much reputed 
for the representation of Droih. The Curt nin was in the neigh- 
bourhood of Shorediteh, the original sign ufwhicli, hung outside, 
was n striped curtain. The date of its erection is not clearly de- 
fiued, but it is mentioned in Heath's Kpigrams as being open in 
IGIO. The performers at this house were called the i'riiiee'* 
tervaDt still the accession of Charles the First, soon after which it 
appcan to have been used principally by prize tighter s. The 
locahty has still its Curtain-road. The Swan, the Rose, and the 
Hope wore situate on thcBaukside. The two littterhouties brought 
forward the works of some of the first dnunntiats : the Rose, for 
tnatance, produced Marlowe's "Jew of Malta" in 1591; whilst 
Den Joncon gave his "Bartholomew Fair" to the Hope in 1G14. 
These theatre* fell into decay in the reign of James the First, nnd 
the Hope was ultimately used as a bear-garden. 

Al the close of Shakspere's career (ICIG) the theatre had 
rencfaed its height of reputation ; and such was the passion for 
show and representation, that not only at Court, but in the houses 
of the nobility, daya of rejoicing were celebrated by masques. 
TbU >prcics of entertainment was produced at great expense. In 
the reigii of Elizabeth the masques were tittle more than the old 
pAgeants, iu which heathen dirities walked in procession amidst 
loud nin»ic: but those produced in tlic reign of James were cou- 
cctTcd in the spirit of a high literature, and such men m Ren 
Jonson and Fletcher were eugngcd in their composition^ ivhilst 
Iiiij^o Jones supplied much of their decoration and effect. From 
UAHl to 1033 these masriuea were produced at Court by Jonson, 
whiue prose descriptions uf the pageantry arc written with great 
cleg«iee. Even tlic City was anxious to participate in these cn- 
terlaiumcnts, for the records of the Merchant Tailors' Company 
inform us (hat " Sir John .Swyuncrten is entreated lo confer with 
Master Beujamiu Jouson, the poet, about a speech to bo made to 
welcome Hts Majesty, and about muitic and other invcuttotis 
which may give liking and delight ; by reason that the Companv 
doubt that their schooImosCcr nud scholars be uot acquaivited «\xVt. 



such kitid of entertaiutnents/' One uf the latest of Jonaon'* 
mawucs — "Time Vindicated'' — was performed at IVKitflmil qu 
Sunday, the GtU of January, 1623. A storua vas cveii then ga- 
tlicring in the distance, and of its uuticipated approach thi» pro> 
ductiuugeatly wluspcred. It ultimatety cameiu ita fearful realitfi 
and upon the very spot on which this pngennt had been repre- 
scntcd was a portion of its fury eiihauatcd. Puritaaisro, from 
various concurrent cause^t, increased its streng^Ui, and the civil 
warfare nas fatal alike to the Monarchy and to the Stage. 


In 1613 there appeared an ordinance of the Xiong' Parliament, 
coramandiug the cessation of plays, on the plea that "public 
sports do not well a^ree with public calamities." The rtclors, for 
a time, obeyed this injuoctiou, though their menn<i of support 
were, thereby destroyed ; but gradually theatres again began to 
open, when the Loug Parlinment issued its flocond mandate. 
This was dnted September 2, 10i7, and stated thnt "the distressed 
estate of Ireland, steeped in her own blood, and the distressed 
estate of Kiigland, threatened nitb a cloud of blood by a civil 
war, call for all possible means to sppcnic and avert the wrath of 
God." This decree not having the desired effect, a far more 
stringent one was issncd on tbe llth of Febrnarv, 16-W, com- 
manding the immediate and total Mipprc^sion of tbe theatres 
under great penalties. Those wlio presumed to follow their pro- 
fession were coniddercd as rogncN and vngnbonds;* and, being 
convicted, were to be publicly whipped; every spectator was to 
forfeit five ahillings to the poor; aud, lastly, the Lord Mayor 
and magistrates were authorised to pull down and destrov'iill 
boxes, galleries, scats, ifcc., used for stage exhibitions. 'I'hese 
orders were strictly cuiforocd — the theatre* were demolished — the 
actors dispersed. 

Charles the ^irst passed from an npnrtinent in Whitehftll to 
the scaffold ; but the *' poor plnyer," tbougb ruined iu his avoca- 
tion, was Irnc to his sovereign, and this loynlty furniahes a bright 
pRfrc in tbe actor's history. On the lUh of Se|iti'mber, 1G55, the 
pcrforracrs at the Red Bull, and at Southwark fair, enlisted tbem- 
seKcs into the army in the cause of royalty. Most of the playera 
(except Lowin, Taylor, and Pollard, who were superannuated] 
hkewisB took part with their sovereign. Mohun became a cap- 
tain, and whilst serving in Flauderi received the pay of a major; 
Hart was a lieutenant in Prince's Itupert's rcj^iment; Burt was a 
comet in the same troop, and Shattcrel a quartcr-matiter. Allen, 
»be Cockpit, became a m^jor, aud quartcr-master-gcnerBl at 

r Act i Oto. IV. c. 8S, thf tnrRil)«n n£ the ptofcMion wvtv ng longer 

" romws sod vagabontU," itiosv opprobriaas terms, ■• apjilied to 

> ui tbe finyt of djuk rntuuiciioi), beiag iheo erased 








Oxford ; whilst Swnnston {of the Blaclcfriars) was the only player 
of note vrbo MiJcd with the opposing party. 

Music 9ip[)t')ini to hnve Imil its troubius in these perilous times 
as well fi« the drania. In the "Actor's Remonstrance," pub- 
lished m 1643, the followiug complaiDt is made, in reference to 
the closing of the thentrcH, and the little patronage given to the 
umstciau: — "Our innsio, that was held so delicate and precious 
that ther scorned to come tu a tavern uuilcr twenty shillings for 
two hoars' salary, now wandur with their inHtnitnents under their 
cloak — 1 Rieaii such as have any — into all houses of good fellow- 
ship, saluting any room where there is company with — ' Will you 
hare any music, guntlemcn ? '" 

Before the promulgation of the severe ordinances referred to, 
the perfomiauces uf the stage had been frequently interrupted, 
cvci> from the coniroeaccmcnt of hostilities between ttic King nnd 
his Pnrliaoieut. When the fate of their royal master was sealed^ 
the surviviDg dependants on the drama were obliged to return to 
the exercise of their profession. In the winter of 1648 they ven- 
tured to act ■ few plays nt the Cockpit, but wero interrupted and 
silenced by some soldiers, who conveyed thom to prison. After a 
fc* jtiiuiUr aUeuipts in tlieir owu proper quarter, uo public exhi- 
biiions are recorded for some time. Performauees, however, were 
oocasionaUy ^ren at the houses of the nobility in the country, 
and likewise in the vicinity of London. One of the places of 
shelter fur the proutrate drama was Holland Houbc. The fury of 
relipoua teal threatened tlic complete extinction of the art; but 
its eutirc ovortbrow whs happily prevented. lu 16j0, Sir William 
Davenant — to whom Uie stage is considerably indebted — gave 
" entertainucata of dcclamntiou and music, after the mnnncr of 
the Ancients/' at Kutiand House, Charter- Uuusc-squnrc; two 
years later he opened the Cockpit, where he |)erfurmed nitlmut 
tHudcstatioiu CharIc-8 the Second ultimately retuiiied from exile 

-pateuts were gntuted — and the Uestoration saw a ucw era 
opcuing for tlic drama. The theatres thai subscqucutl}' sprung 
mto existence remain to be described. 



When the patriarch of Uz exclairaed in agony of spirit, "OU 
that miue adversary bad written a book," lie did not mean 
(although such an interpretation lias bt;i.-i] {pvm to his words), tliat 
the crime of writing cnrries the punishinciit along with it; bnt he 
might have had a mental forcsn ad owing of the "calamities of 
antliorp," witli an anticipation of huiidrirdsoftliousands of prospec- 
tive Tolnmes, many of which might he spared. The itimi King of 
Israel spoJcc more explicitly, and from positive experience, some 
six hundred years later, for he savB, " Of making many boofcs there 
is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh." But nei- 
ther Job nor Solomon appear* to have thought of the race of *' re- 
viewers," a necessary evi? arising from the superabundance of lore ;' 
condemned to labours nearly as onerous as those o( Hercu1e.ii, and 
whose duties, if conscientiously discharged, are as agreeable and 
satisfactory as those of the physician to a fever-hospital, who 
finds himself compelled to pronounce sentence of death on more 
than half the patients submitted to his care. The h-ish of criticism 
is sometimes as unmerciful as the knout of the Russians, and 
immolateit more victims than a campaign on the banks of the 
Danube. One morning, after a stout literary contest at a convji-ial 
parly on tlie preceding evening, Boswell, seated by Dr. Johnson's 
bed, observed, "A pleasant mt'eling last night, sir." "Very," 
growled Lexiphanes, "we had some capital talk, had not we?*^ 
'* Yes, sir," rejoined the shadow, " you lo«jed and gored a good 
many people." It may ho pastime to the bull lo Lntt, but he 
should use discretion in his strength (unless under very great pro- 
voc»lion), and, remember, thai it is not ]>leasanl to be hurled into 
the air. 

The poet Gray, writing to a friend above ninety years ago, said 
that life had no enjoyment equal to lying on a sofa and reading 
pcr])cttial new novels by Crobiilon and Marivaux. He spoke like 
an indolent voluptuary with very questionable taste. The anec- 
dote rcniiriils us of the bcgt^ar who asked charity of the latter writer. 
" My good friend," said Marivaux, " strong and stout as yon arc, 
it is a shame that you do not go to work." "Ah, master," cricoj 
the beggar, "if you did but know how lazy I am!" "Well, 
well," replied Marivaux, " I sec thou art an honest fellow, here is 
ha1f-a-crown for you." Gray was cjuitc as lazy as the sturdy meii-j 
dicanl, but he bad no occasion lo work, and read novels instead.* 
Since his days, the love of light literature has increased with the 
spread of education, bnt the style which pleased ihtn has lew ad- 
vocates now. Marivaux was metaphysical, and Crcbilton grossly 
indecent, while both were as dull as these two disltngiitshing qua- 
lities could render them. The novelist who hopes to please, and 
obtain popularity in 1854, must study from very different models. 





AV riling m«j be compared to cookery. Stnrt not, fasiidious reader 
■ — ihcrr is nothing either Mnsuol nr dpRrading in the assnciaiion. 
'Jbe tvro Dublt; arts rt^quire entliu^iubin and gt-nins, without wbicli, 
noihing great will he acliiuvud in citlier. A muster td' his science 
irjll extract a palatable dish from the scantiest matena)«, while a 
bungler can do nuthiiig with the ino«t costly coadinicots. A late 
ingenious author said lie would umlertake lo trriio an amusing tour 
round a broomstick. Vde would have componnded a piquant 

(wlagv with iuiOniuo,a)K:pper-box,andajiigof hot water. In ihu 
landling of liie ingredit.-iit.s lies all the mystery. Wo hare never 
calculated the exact amount of novels, tales, and romances pnb- 
lifrhed auuuallv in Kugland. They are many, but are far outnuui- 
bcred on the CoiUinenL Of the sixty thousand literary coutribu- 
liiins to the great fair of l,i-ipsic, one-third are said to bo works of 
fiction. It is needlet's, therefore, lo dispute that the tide of public 
taste, whether for good or evil, runs with un overwhelming current 
in ihU direction. Dr. Johnson, who looked into everything, de- 
clared that he never met with a book so utterly valueless, but that 
Bumethmgprofiiable might be extracted from it. Yet, an Rassanio 
says, it is scarcely worth sifting whole buithols of chaff for the 
chance of djacovering a single grain or two of indiflorent wheal. 
Ijifc and li^tNure seldom suHice for this tedious operation. The 
anxious inquirer will find n-'views useful sign-posts, which direct 
him JD the best course, while lliejr point out high-roads, and 
how to avoid labyrinlh.s, 

Noceli continue to be written, and the hi.vurions world still looks 
.tejito ordinary amusement, although taxes increase, the war liu- 
Ipmlmid the Emperor of Kiis^ia is not yet beaten to his knees. 
•* Hide and Seek,"* the first that presents itself on our well-re- 
plenished table. i» from the pcu of an author who has previously 
von favour with the public by " Anionina" and "■ Basil." Both 
his furtDer works hare been liberally praised, hut we consider this, 
by seieral degrees, the best of the three. It has more power of 
conception, greater di^Iinctne»•s, and a sustained purpose, wrought 
out with suponor ellVct. The opening chapter, descriptive of the 
chddhottd and early iraioingof young Zdchariuh Thorpe, reminds 
us of Dickens, whom Mr. U'ilkie Cullinn emulues rather than imi- 
Ulea, and with gtMxl success. Mrs. Peckover, the spouse of the 
•trolling clown, Valentine BIyth. the eccentric, but kind-hearted 
plinler, his invalid wife, and their adopted Madonna, or Alary, the 
lillle dt-sf and dumb heroine, are well-drawn pnrtraiu. The idea 
of the luller is conceived with skill, and has t«everal traits of origi- 
nality, though she cannot play a very prominent part, from her 
po«itioD and physical deficiencies. The account of her infancy, 
childhood, and the accident which occasioned her lo» of hearing 
and consequent inability to speak, is the must touching and attrac- 
tiie portion of the book. Few characters arc introduced, whether 
principal or subordinate; but Lhey are ingeniously contracted, and 
each seems necessary to the progress of the story. Mr. Mathew 

• " BMe BDd Seek." By W. Wilkle Collm., suihor of " Anlonina," " BawV," 
ftC. **ul«. 1854. 

VOL. XXX tr. a. 



Marltsmau (or mther, Grice), reminds iis of soin« old acqtiaint- 
Bnce?, willi his fealurcs and dress considerably c-l)aii};rd. He is 
not aUoRclht'r agrpcable, and, from the nature of his life and ad- 
renLores, his perceplions of moral propriety arc niithec very rigid 
nor delicair, but lie acts an iitiportant parlUiroughout, and malios 
his final ftxit in perfect teeping. " Zacli," ihc hero of the talc, 
is a high'Kpirilcd youth, mIIiuI hotii a luij^taken plan of education, 
and drivi'ii into irre^^vilniitics by the obstinnte, ill-planned disi:i- 
pline of the patrmal roof; not \in0115ly inclined, but paRily led 
astray, and yielding to iinpuKsv from lack of jndgineiit ratlier than 
al}>^ence of principle. 'Iliere \» a n'antof retineiaent in his ihoiif^bls 
and actions, pcrfcctlv natural under the circumstances in which he 
is placed, and suitJ^d to the KCfrnc-s in which he in engaged. The 
story nii^ht have been morecnndensed. and is somewhat elaborate*! 
towards Uic end, but tho interest and niyslPiT are wcdl preserved, 
and ive are really grateful to Mr. C'lllins for sparing us the usual 
wind-up of a happy marriage. Tliis he rendtirs impossible, as the 
hero and heroine are discorcicd at last to be brother and sister, 
and no other parties are introiiuctd with whom ihcy can be 
respectively joined in the bands of holy wmilcck. Thorpe senior, 
the bad man of the tale, nnd the originator of all ihc mischief, is 
treated more indulgently than he dt-ser^-es, allotted To die in the 
course of nature, vrith time for penitence, and an afTeclionatc wife 
to attend him in bis scchision from the world. Zach returns liome 
frum travelling in ihe nilds of America (on facaring of his fathers 
death], a wiser and steadier man tlian he was uhcn he depaited, 
and the curtain drops on the family group, rc-unitcd in the painter's 
drauing-TOoui. These scenes and incidents winch are confined to 
every -day life and homely posiiion, ore rendered extremely exciting 
by the attistic sliill of the author, who borders on romance n'ith- 
oul R-icrificing probability. 

Of a dilTerent character is the next book which falls under our 
observation — " The Heir of Vallis."* Here wc soar into a higher 
walk of life, and become entangled in wild flights of melodrama- 
tic adventure. The eharaclei's and incidents shif^ as nipidly as 
the views in a diorama; they clinnge from Kngland to France, 
and Italy, and back again, with the rapidity of the electric tele- 
graph, and the plot is so complicated thai two or thref< altoiitive 
pcrnsols arc required, before we ran satisfy ourselves that wo 
understand it clearly. It is almost as puzzling as that of Cor- 
neille's " Heraclius," which no reader or specutor could ever 
thoroughly comprehend, and tlie author himself was unable to 
explain five years after it. was coIllpo^ed, At the same time, there 
are passages of great power and pathos, vigorous writing and 
animated description ; but no relief from eccentric or humorous 
delineations. This is a great fault in the novelist, who shotdd never 
forget that the muss of reailers like to be anuiscd, while they are 
excited or tnsirucied; and in thin nitful blending of serious and 
comic interest, the gieat roastev* of modern fiction, SScoll, Cooper, 
Bnlwer, and Dickens, most coDspicuously exliibit their skill and 

• ■* The IJeir of V.^llis." Bv William Muthtwi. hi 3 »oli. IM4 




coperioT worltmanship. Martial lays down the c&noTi, and the 
■ jetaon for it wry satisfactorily, when be says, — 

"Srria cum postim, quod delectantk malim 
ScribcTv. tu rausa rs, Wlor." 

'The tnste of the imblic sliotitcl be carcfiill}' studied by the author 
vbo hopes to achieve current popularity. Many very clever, use- 
! fill, and elaborate workx, with a good M>uiid moral at the end, are 
floid afcide Wforc Uicy are half fini.shed, and luvcr opent-d again, 
I l»eraiisf the impatient reader remembers only his htadaf he, and 
illif iitlev want oJ' variety by which he was wearied out. Wilbout > 
[incident, a noiel will soon become an in'e^isuble opiate; hut, aa^ 
, Hamlet says of his praises to Uonitio's face, there may be **sotne-< 
i»hinfr too much of this." Tlie incidents in the " Heir of Vallis**' 
lare no crowded one on the other, that they confuse by their rapid 
^aiicccxKion, while there i<t a want of dramatic coherence in the 
border in whicb tbey occur. Neither does the couclusioii appear 
^k> UK to be in fitrict aecnrdance vriih poetical justice. The death 
l-dln'ATch-villain Wilton is too sudden and siiminar)*. He 
pdftwe* to be executed by instaliuenls, while pour Inez might 
|}iare been spaied, uller her lon^' AuQi-iiuR, for a short inlerral ufl 
f-WMored happiness. The "Heir of Vallis ** is preeminently a 
ibook of action. 'I'lie next that follows, '* Counterparu, or tho 
kCroH of Lore,''* is one of dissenalion. The object is expressed 
tin ibe motto, whirh we confess to be ralhi-r beyond our compre- 
Efceosioa, and is taken from u niauusciipt by Coleridge: **'i'wo| 
^fonns that difler in order to con-cspond : this is the Irne sense 
lOf the word Connierpart." What does this mean-' ''Mass! 1 
cannot tell." 'Ihe iiulhor flpplies the definition to the state con- 
nubial, and considers happiness in nianringe the produce of op- 
pos'ites. Not, as Mrs. Mulaprop says, "that it is safest tu b'-gini 
with a little aversion," but that it is quite unnecessary for domes- 
lie banoony Uiai tiste or disposition i^hould conimingle. Tlio 
conHilioo sounds like a paradox, but nothing is impossible lo 
KSthcliral, syucretislic, or idiosyncralical reasoners. The reader 
of this work must he prepared to ihiuk, deeply enough; and to, 
lercivc opinions, very exircme ones too. He will stave a liltlt 
|.«Dd perhaps add a start, when he is lold ihal " * Zanoni ' is a bnolci 
for buys, thuugii the subject is peihaps the hij^hest, except t^ 
Tenled religion ;" and that " Mr. Dismelt knows mure than all lli( 
rrtt of the norld put logelher, and dares not reveal the half of ^ 
what he knows." If this bo so, the ex-Chancellor of Ihe Ex- 
chequer must walk ilirough the worlil, a very uncomfortable, ovcr- 
1< advd indiM<l(, bending iinder the weif;ht of his unimparted 

M'isdom, as the late L<ord A did under the oppressive know- 

tedjje of a gliual story, so appalling that no listener was ever found 

br»«e enough to endure ihe end of it. The lovers of the mystical 

,aud obscure may positively reiel in tlie pages of '* Counterparts,*' 

feomc of which ascend to ihu lii<;b stibliuic of incomprebeusibility. 

* *• C()ant»p«r(f. or the Cross of Love." By the sutliur of •• Charles 
AuehMtrr." 3 voU. )6Jt. 



Carlyle is clear and e«K>- of »o!iitii)Ti in conipariBon. Everybody 
iiow-a-dAyfi has a tUeory, on which he mniinu and rides nway at 
a furious gallop, and tliU author's theory is, tlial wervthiti); de- 
pends upon trinpcraiiiciit, and that Kuichcnbach is the gruatusi 
j(hiloso]incr that ever lived, much too profound to be tranidaied. 
There is also a great deal about whnt is called *' Odyle," ** «i>ecilic 
infliiciici;«," " ilectro-maKnetisTn," " the law of campen^liou," and 
other sublimities, such, for instance, as that marriage is a greater 
myntcry than denth. Of the latter casualty, he nays, "They t.ilk 
al>out dying in tlm newspapers. Can they remember they have lo 
die? That'slh(;(]ne«tion. What is death ? And stranpcly enough, 
it's a question one would never put, if there were ihe slightest 
chance of its buiug answered." This is scarcely good English, 
ralhrr foggj" in meaning, and might he called incoherent rhap- 
sody ; but many may think it very clever and sublime, nolwith- 
Fiaiiding. To become popular, it is by no means necessaiy to be 
intelligible. Not long ago, being in conversation with a liicrdry 
lady of more than average pretension, she vt-benicnlly lauded a, 
recently published poem of a very wild and questionable cha- 
racter. On our asking her rea.'*on, she replied, with great nahvtf, 
" UecflURe 1 don't understand a word of it.'' We may venture to 
take this sample as the representative type of a numerous family. 

" Naiioitn and her Lovers !"* 'lliank Heaven, we here return to 
sublunary earth, and leave metaphysics for actual humanity. Mr. 
Gwynne, whose funner works have acquired for him a just repu-. 
taUon, is, as an author, the very antipodes of Oerman ininscen-" 
dcntalism and occult philosophy, (le deals with a working-da) 
world, and studies and reprtseuts man as he is. lie indulges ii 
no recondite lucubrations, but carries out a plain and wholesome 
moral from the simplttst materials. Ilia scene lies at the obscure 
village of Hi. Eloy, in remote and rustic Normandy, during the 
early fury of the first French Kevolution. It is more than difficult 
to strike out anything palpably new or original from a subject and 
an epoch which have been so repeatedly made t)ie (heme of the 
imaginative writer, and the terrible realities of which exceed the 
wildest fictions of romance. We have at the beginning a mur- 
dered cure, a ransacked church, a burnt chateau, and a guillotined 
marquis. Then there aru Nanette, the village beauty, with her 
brace of devoted lovers: the accepted and affianced Antoine 
Chfirpentier, a selfish rou^, — and the rejected, Arsene Polier, a 
true heart, worth a hundred of his successful rival. Theru is 
also a revohilionaiy petit-miiitrc, Jean Francois Daridolte, called 
Citizen Mucius, in couformily with the jargon of the day. Nanette 
is simple, loving, and conlidiug, but has plain cumuion sense and 
sound notions of propriety. 8he refuses to be married by civil 
contract only; and altiiongh exireuiely in Io\-e, rejects the pressing 
solicitations qI' her suitor, and determines to postpone giving her 
hand to Anloine until religion is restored in France. The two 
lovers are drawn as conscripts. Both provt; gallant soldiers; but 

. • •• Nuvette and li« I^vcre." By Talbot Gwynne, aullior of ihe " School 
for Fmlwri," -' The Life and Death of SJIat Barn»tarhe," &c. IBM. 



Aratar i? straHy, nhilu Antoiuc is gay and ilrK^tpatcd. An^ne iit 
difuiblfi) in Iiis fim bnllle at MontcntiUo, and retires from thtt ser- 
vice Willi a mutilated hand and the ranlc uf »ergeant. Anioine 
l>ecorars a captaio ; his hcait ts inflated wiUi vanity ; he now con- 
ndcni Nanette and her humble connections infinitely belon- liiu ; 
he rvlit-Tps her finrej her enKa(<«'ment, ami pursues bin career of 
prontotton ; ho becomes a pimester, an intidel, and a licbauchee. 
N'aiM^tto morries Artrne, nt)d their lires pass as hap]>ilv hs com- 
petetKc, earned by honest labour, mutual love, and obscurity, can 
render them. Antoine marries the daughter of General Lun>;eval, 
becomea a colonel for his gallantry at AuBterlttz, but aoon dis- 
tipatea his wife's fortimc, is separated from her, falls into disgrace 
and abject poiertr. and dies a beggar in the mill of Nanettt^ and 
Awrn*", where he bad been received through common charitv, 
without their knnwing him, and worn out by premature decay, 
brought on by drunk iniiess. From ihcjic Klender ingredients, Mr. 
Ciwyime hiut compounded a pleasant and profiiabtc story ; short, 
well expre«sed, and hastening on to the derelupmeut, mthout 
tedious cpi&odcs or wearisome digressions. The whole is com- 
prised in one small, widely-printed volume, ond contains more 
matter than iK often enpAtided over three goodly octavos. He is 
a writer whu studies brevity, and appear? to have a constitutional 
horror of tiring his readers by circuiulocuiion. All his works ai'c 
abort, and partake of this character; he has one defined pur- 
poM in Ticw, and neror deviates from it. There is wholesome 
utire combined with the instniciion, but tuimingled with gall or 
biUameas. A good wnnd is received with additional welcome 
wben tbna couTeycd. Vie take leave of lliic book, convinced « ith 
Nanette, in her concluding reflection, even if we had any doubts 
before, that "everything it for the best to the righteous, if not io 
this world, at least in that which is to eome." Mr. Gwynne is 
gifted wHh a clear head, a sound underetanding, a just appreciation 
of ngbl and «n)iij;; and he never sufTi-ra the fervour or exuberance 
of language to obtain an umltie iiifltiunce over bis judgment, or to 
mv«ti)y his ideas. It is refreshing to stumble on a writer with 
such true Knglish honesty of thought, propriety of feehng, and 
clearocss of expression, when our national literature is in danger 
of being emasculated, not ao much by ihe introduction of foreign 
idioii), as by adopting the laxity of continental opinions on the 
most aeriouE subjeels. 

"A mbrose the Sculptor,"* by Mrs. Robert t'artwright, is a work of 
higher pretencinn than the laM we have noticed, and more studiously 
elaborated. The urtisl tells his own story, and speaking always of 
himself in the first person, rather detracta from the general inlerent 
uid effect. 'I'hv authoress, by tlms circtimscribiDg the circle of 
composition, has increased the difhculties of her task. But she 
has executed it well and gracefully, and has added much to 
her formt-r reputation. There are too many French and Italian 
interpolations which disligure the \voi\, while tliey exhibit an 

• "^Anbroie the Sculptor; an AutobWraphy of Artisl Lire." By Hrt. 
Bobmt Cart wriglii. author of *• Chrutabelle, ' tte. 2 vols. 1654. 



engcrncRS to display a Inowledge of foreign laiiRuagea, equally 
iinneccMHry Binl ustentatifius. T!)i» is a besetting sin of many 
writiTs of ilic present day, by no means confined to novelislB, aud 
cannot be too mvich condemned, as tending lu comtpt nnr pure 
Saxon vernacular, if nol to siiperseiie it entirely. Tlio point and 
moral of this story is to bIiuit iKe (iata) couis(.'i)ueuces of unfounded 
jealousv, but llie joalnnsy bting in tttis cufte 9*i utterly bnKult-KS} 
and resiing upon itiich unreasiblf suppo»icion!i, considerably de- 
stroys our sym|iathy fur the pruicipal vuflerfr and liglim, wbu is 
hurried iuln Huicidu upon the sliglitcst grounds uhieli ficliou has 
e\er detiscd. Mra. Cuitirright, it is true, has contrived an apology 
for the bliudcd «ttukuess of her heroine by giving her Spanish 
hinod. engruvcd ou an Italian stock, jiisl as Shakspeare ni^ikei 
Othello a Moor to account for liisinJlamniahlc tcm])erainrnt. Bnl 
thesiliialion& arc totally dissimilar, and the lu^chinery handled with 
very difl^-rcnt grndntions of skill. Mating the nliglit bhitnishcs 
tiQUied above, there is a pnrily nticl feminine elegance in the style 
of wrilrng which cannot be too nuicb connnended, while there is 
no absence of strength in cr>mpo»i!iun, wlit-n strength is required. 
But, again, there is no relief, and no light, joyous characters iulrn- 
duced to enliven the nontbre ftialiireK of the tale. AiubroHe, the 
Senlfitor liiuisc'lf, vindicates througUiiul. in every actiuu of his life, 
the high moral supremacy of true genius, and supports the piin- 
ciple laid down by Llie authofL-xs in her picface, ** in favour of a 
class whose talents and itttr.inments entitle them to a degree of 
Hocial distinction to which they have not ns yet been admitted in 
some of the most liberal conntiies of Kui-ope." England, with a 
few honorable exceptions, i^ behindhand in this liberal patronage. 
With ns the accidental Hristocrncy of rank and wealth still lakes 
place of the more genuine nobility of education and lalenU 

"Clara MoriRon"* reads tamely after the strong excitement of 
" AmbroRC the Sculptor." 'J'hiswork is of the cpictine class which 
it is dilBcLilt to determine. There is nothing positively to con- 
demn, and litllu to praise. 7'he staple consists of dull, matlcr-of* 
fact lellei-s, long, prosy conversations, and almost a total absence 
of incident or advculure. It appears that llie writer cuibodic» her 
own stxjry. An orphan, dispatched by a cohl, calculating undo, 
lo seek a livelihood at Adelaide, iu South Australia, as a goremess, 
for which »he has been competently educated. Disappointments 
and vexations fall upon her, and bhc is reduced to the condition 
of a fiervant-of-all-U'ork,liut hnally marries a settler with sulhcient 
means, and re-ascends to the station to which she has been ac- 
cuMouied. The epoch goes back to JB^l, and dtsciibes the 
manners and society uC the colony at that lime. In a place where 
ovcrj-thing gallops, and of which so much has been more recently 
written, three yeais constitute a very respectable antiquity. To 
thuso who desire to read all iliat a])pcurn iu print coucciiiing the 
newest Kl Dorado^and who arc satiHfied with innocuous gossip, these 
liule volumes may prove acceptable. 

* *' <3an &(oris«a : a T«Ie of South Auslralin during the Cold Frrtr.' 




It is not a little curious lo obsene wlint amount of liberty inav 
rlth impunity Iw allowpfl to the " feathered tribe" iu their dumo»* 
timU-'d »tale. My blacKbird was, bowever, indebted, in the first 
inslnncc, io cbanci! for the froedctin lio ciijnyeil. Upon opening; 
, 1it» c^ge one niominf^ to cbant;c bis hutb, tiu i>tc-ppe<l fortb, hoiI 
beforv it was possible to arrest bim, be w as on tlie higbcst puint of 
tlie frame of ibi-- lorgc open window, looking down for the ftrst tinia 
ia bift life on ibe broad expanse of naUirc, m ilb no barrier betwi-en^ 
Lin bikI iu cnjoynicni. Ili-avcn knows it in in no tspirit ofj 
-tnockrry or disrespect tbnl I say it. but never d<ics his iuiage, al' 
Ibat Hioimnl. rt-cur to inv niL-iiiury without bringios; uilli it that of] 
I'ope Pius the Sixth, who, alWr having servril all bis preceding 
life a lowly, unaspiring', monk, on bearing that bu was elected 
Pope, drew himselt' up to a liei};ht which no one bad suspected 
biui to poi'svss, and reeling al las.1 scope and power for his im- 
mPUMJ and noble tnlrnts, Imikin^ round wilh a flushing, all-anlici- 
'^ting eye, upon ibe a*«emlded crowds, gavcoui Iiis aspirations inl 
|ilio Lwo little words "Suno Papa." I^o did not utter words, but 
,bis Rlnncingeye, bin arching neck, now turned to the right, now to 
tbo Irft, now up to beat-en, now down into the far-t^treti'bing valley 
bcneulh him, Kpiike as clearly as words could have done, " and thit', 
ill ihU, is niiue !" I was afraid to move or speak, lest I should pre- 
tiptUle lii» flight, which I ^uppoxed, nowoithy thfit I was, would 
1)U fnial: therefore there was no disobedience or trcacbeiy in his 
et<uducl;an the contrary, so unconscious was he of doing wn>ng, 
that he paused at leaKl five ininulcit on liiii pinnacle, as if slowly, 
luxuriously iubuling llie first coubcionsness of perfect freedom. 

If the truth must he told, I believe that, for those five minutes he 
lost all meinorv ol the past ; of rules, of discipline, of " heatole^ • 
eten of me ! For that short time he lived in llio present, his being 
wsftinwhsi be saw, in what he felt; his original nature hud resumed 
ila ftway. 1 kno$f th>s was so, for when al last I ventured to pro- 
nounce bis name, he heeded, nay, I am sure be heard me not; but, 
aa if ret'ovcring a little from his proud ecstasy, he arched his nei-k 
two or three times nioie rapidly, more boldly, as it were; fixed his 
'•jras upon one high true between uf^ and the garden ; Happed his 
wings two or tree limes, as if lu try their strength, found it siifli- 
cit-nt ; and iu auolber monient wun ou the tup of that tree. The 
faiinsebold went in pursuit of him, tliu only eOcct of which was lo 
drive him to another tree, which was within the garden — there hu 
rvmained several hours without food, without motion, and without 
uDEWciing when culled. It seemed as if the sense of libetly were 

' The ItAlian uame for the faTourile worm which the blackbird* vnL 



Still all-sufficient for htm ; but after some lime, m I belicre ix not 
iinfrequentl^' llie cbrc, more subsUnlial wants began to make them- 
ftelvtM full. I.ibi'rty i& no doubt ddigtilfiil to those who arc inde- 
pendent of nil other beings for every want and every wish; bul, 
alas ! who is ? Lvn, at least, was not, allliouKh l>is wild nature 
enjoyed it for a moment ; he became scon coDviuced that it wan no 
longer suited to him nor he to it. lie 6rsl began to answer to the 
well-linown call, tlien to hop down from branch to branch, again to 
ascend as if the point whence he could see his former house uus 
the safest, and finally he flapped bis wings once more, hihI flew into 
the window whence he ban llowii out in the morning. Another 
accidental et-cape, and siveedy rulum, proved his matured judz^- 
mctit and apprerialinn r>i civilised life, and he had ever after his 
reward in all iitt comforts^ in addition to a moderate and rational 
degree of liberty. 

Ar thr fn'jil duly of a biographer, however, is impartiality, I must 
conft'SB thiit if Leo had all the virtues, he was nut free from some 
of the vvraknci^svs of htiiiiau nature. He was haughty, Jealous, 
and somewhat tyrannical. The solitary sparrow and the uightin* 
gate were the chief objects of his jealousy. I know not tvhy, for 
there ccrlainly was one canary, al least, which 1 loved better even 
than tliem. It niight have been thai as she was a lady he con- 
sidered her privileged, for I do not like lo admit that another 
circtnnstauce could h^\e had any influence, namely, that the 
canary's food was difftTcrvt from, while that of the nightingale 
and the solitary sparrow was the bame, as his ; but. even between 
these he made Mome dtstinclton. The nightingale being so much 
Bmaller than himself, and light, active, and expert — partly from 
generosity, 1 hope, and partly from the prudent determiiiaiiou of 
making a merit of necessity, generally submillcd, with a tolerable 
share of philosophy, to his having his portion of iho favourite 
worms in peace ; but my poor Azini, my solitary sparrow, whose 
coyly-yielded and ever doubled affection — doubted, at least, until 
camelhelafit sad proof — 1 prized, for ihat reason, more than all the 
rest, he being about the same size as Leo, and inSnilety more 
timid, reserved, and retiring by nature; indeed, more so, I b<;lieve, 
than any olher European bird, was less favoured. What a victim 
was he during his short, unnatural life, to the jealousy and tyranuy 
of his more worldly companion, uhenever he dared to make auy 
advances of intimacy towards me! What rendered this the more 
dit'tressing was that every such effort on Azini'spart was a violence 
done to hii) misanthropic nature, \>Ti to his well-founded horror of 
our race. 

My very first occupation in the morning was to feed my birds. 
The blackbird, nightirir;ale, solitary sparrow, and blarkcap, all 
ate worms of various kinds— the cjstole, already mentioned, a 
hllle maggot, found iu chealnuls, and called iu Italian gian- 
»e//o, and many others — and raw meat; hut ihey so much pre- 
ferred the liornis, thai only Leo ale the raw meal willingly.- 
The great contest, then, was always for the worms, uhich 1 kept 
in a piece of hollow cauci in order to dole them out with due 



economy zoyself, becaa&e they were not aln'ays caetly obtained; 
while of all utlier food the birds had ad Uhiiurtl. WetntB procecd- 
ins, I nin«t mention thai every b»r<l in iny avinry knew: its own 
j/itluidual rnune es n'ell as household dogs do. The names of tho 
\ blictibirrl and soliinrr spnrrow 1 liave already mpuiioned j the 
iBigblingale'^ name was Peri, that of lh« blackcap, Pio, &c., 
[sod whun 1 called one, Ihe others would no more utteiupl to coma 
'fimrard, tlian tJiu one called wuiUd fail to comr. I'be arrange* 
[iwnLs of their morning repast were invariably as follows: — Lc 
Itook his place ou thu floor, at one Kidu of uiy cbiiir ; Axiui at the 
ilhcr; Peri always at noni*; dmtiuicc, as much out of bi^ht as ira*J 
iristrnt with tlic kccnrst and most accurate observooce on his 
')MUt of all that pas&ud, with the rapid and uever-miiiiiug Kuizure 
oftbc wnna iDteufU>d for him, and, 1 fear, the mental feasiing upou^j 
Utoce of the otlicra. Now, my groat fiuancial scheme was to j^xt^ 
Itwo urtlircc wonna to Aziiu and Peri for every one to Leo; not- 
I-fcr lorittg them better, but because he suffered less in eating meat, 
altbough I do not at all know tliut he did not also enjoy mora>| 
eating wonnsi I>*^r strougly-nrgauisvd bird \ but as our beet aim ia 
lliis world should be lo lessen pain, rather than to incrcose enjoy- 
ment, fio my object was to enlist Leo's robust stomach into the 
, •qualiulion which nature loves. And nov it is that I can scarcely 
expect to be heliered by those who have not aviaries tliemselves, 
id it ia precisely for ihem that I do not write — if I attempt to- 
;ribe the diliicuUy I had in eluding his vigilance, and couso-J 
^ue^t jcalonsy and rcscniment upon these occasions. 

My usnal plan was, fir^t, to give a worm lo each, then, wbtle he- 
I vts«ager to snatch the second, to give htm a piece of meat instead, 
land while be was occupied with it, lo slip another worm to my poor 
expecting Azim an tbe other hide ; hut seldom was my sliding scalo' 
icruwned with succe?-!?. Leo generally seized the meat, indeed, hut 
I it was with that ungracious Hnalch thcit marked ht.s already excited 
tanipteioD; and, although having taken warning by the dog and the 
I shador. Iio held it firmly in his beak, until, rushing round my 
chair, and cau&ing my poor terrified Azim to drop bitt prize, htt< 
succeeded in securing it fur bimM-ir, theri'iipun raiKing bis haughty 
liead, niih tht- nnmistakeabhi uxprcs&iou of " Veai, vidt rici." 
Upon other occawoiis, however, when wonns were so scarce aa to^^ 
vliarpet) my ingennity by necessity, and when I had succeeded,! 
not in deceiving, hut in being tooqniek for him, and when on rufih-{^ 
ing round he lias found himself fairly overreached, 1 yet beheld 
what 10 Qtliers would seem the ludicrous, but to my partial and 
, iavestig&ting eyes, the interesting and olmost startling air oft 
[olfended pride and wounded feiiling with which he would lumand] 
^hop away at a quicker pace Lbiin usual, to quit our unworthy 
presence. Although sometimes be turned his head and came 
^back at my earnest entreaty and reiteration of the word "beatoif," 
which he understood as well as his own name, and always became 
c&cited on hearing it, for oflener did the moral f< eling overcomul 
, the physical appetite ; and, [tcrsisting in hi& withdrawal, as 'if hn 
VOL. xxzvi. 1 



heArd me not, for many hours he woald remain so resentful as nol' 
even to accept anything I could offer bitn. 

The tii^hliiigate, as I have said, he seklom mt'ddlod with. I 
always put hit portion on my open hand, and, hohling il high up, 
called " Peri," upon which he would instantly fly forth from His 
concealment, hffht upon my hand, ent his worm, and retire unlit 
again summoned forth. One day, however, Leo shon-cd that, if he 
was too noble to hurt a creature so small, gentle, and aristocratic, 
it was not because ho viewed with indifference his intimacy with 
rac. TjCo's place, while T breakfasted, was on my left shoulder,' 
whence he ate of my bread, and drank of my coffee from my lips. 
If 1 let too much lime pass between his supphes, what indignant 
and enquiring eyes did he not 6x on mine, while ducking his beak 
repeatedly towards my mouth, he lefl no room for affecting to 
misundersUind his meaning. At breakfaxt tioie also, I always 
placed some little delicacy on my lap for Peri, in order to pre- 
sen-o our ilelighlful intimacy, where he regularly came to eat it, 
while my canaries, one in particular, were on the table, disputing 
with me my egg, and pecking my fingers to reprove their slowness 
in opening it. Ou one occasion, I suppose I remained beading 
forwards longer llian usual caressitig and talking to Peri, for, pre- 
sently, I fell my ear laid hold of, though with perfect gcnltenesa^ 
and my head drawn back into its natural position. It was by' 
the beak of Leo. When he relin(|uished his hold, his eye, not 
aliogi^ther as assured as usual, 6xcd itself on mine, to ask if I bad. 
not deserved it. This fact 1 give, as all others I have related oi 
shall relate, upon my veracity, although it docs not depend on thauj 
And now, why do I speak of my Leo as having been? Alasf 
alas ! be exists, at least, no more for me. J.)esiring to visit my^ 
fiiends in England, I was obliged to disperse my dear fairdi 
amongst the kind friends around me, who invited ihcm. Leo fclli 
to the lot of one whose lovely villa, embowered in trees, and whusi 
amiable family made me only fear that his affections might 
weaned from me. Ah, my poor Leo ! how unjust was 1 to measui 
thy Constancy by ours ! He wa.s sent in his owu cage, and with.! 
a supply of all his own sorts of food, especially of his favoriiai 
" healole^ and the lady who took charge of Iiim had even endea-( 
vourcd Lo modulate the tones of her own most musical voice upoafj 
Uiose of mine, in order to beguile his car in pronouncing fats name : 
but it was all in vain. Never, from the moment he left rac, could he 
bo induced to eat one single morsel of any kind ; and, although the 
lady wrote to mc that he bad escaped from liis cage to join tho< 
^ieatherad songsters around him, 1 shtiddcr to think that it was not 
lis body which escaped, but 1 hare never hod courage to enquire, 
aud I never wish to be informed. 


Tn Uie month vhich has jaat elnpsctl, tctt ^cat progress Iim 
been made, if uot in nctiul wiir, at lunst in dispulliug^ the dela- 
lioos which hung like clouds upoti it, and prevented eitlicr fore- 
light or free nctiou. One of the triiths, irhicU from the first we 
pbunly dt-nionst rated and strennonsly asserted, has hecn now 
rcndcrt'd mnnifcist hcyond the posmbihty of qnestionin;;. This is 
the utter indifference of Prussia to the ohjcet of the war, »nd its 
iat^n'cntion in conferences iind negutiutioiis with the mere view 
of befriending Rusaia and rendering; active or strenuons mrnsnre* 
ioiposftibie. The " Times** itself, which so long clung to the idea 
that Pnisxin mnst be ur{;cd, nn<l might he rehed un, for the 
coercion of the Cstnr, hn* at Icnf^th ahnndoncd it, and frankly dc« 
Totea the I'russinn monnrch to the iafemal Gods, uny, goes so far 
as to tiireatea him with tho IcTiathans of Napier and Parscval 

Vi'c have now still more cause than ever to regret tlmt Prussia 
was not left to her natural Htate of noutrality. By forcing 
Prussia into the Kiiropeau conferences on the state of the Lo- 
vant, wc have thrown Austria and Prussia together, and ho linked, 
thetu. that one can no longer take a ntcp without the other, j 
And as oue of the Siamese twins nas predetcrniincd from thej 
first not tu move in hostile advance, Austria ftndn herself equally j 
arrest^fl in her warlike operations, or supplied with the most-^ 
convenient pretext for backwardness and hesitation. What ex- 
ultation was not indnlged iti, when the treaty of four articles 

rat to be signed between the German powers t Prussia was to 

mobilize her laudwehr, and Austria, secure in Prussian support,. 

would be at liberty to pour forth her legions on the Lowcrj 

>aDubo. We said at the tiuic that all this was moonshine, and 

mt a treaty between Prussin and AuHtria, by which eacli gua- 
itecd the existing territories of the othrr, and stipulated tOn 
:h to each other's aid in case of attack, could have no otheif] 
It tliau to tie tlio small iiurtiuu of spirit and forwardness that] 
iraa in the one, to all the pusillanimity and insincerity of the 

Circumstances have sliown how fully we were right. Althonj 
Autria's march to occupy the PrincipaUties was certainly meant] 

ltd arranged in a manner to be really useful to Russia, and 
'little hostile to her as possible, still, at the word of the Cznr,' 
signified through Berlin to Vienna, the advance of the Austrian 
armies has been suspended, and we arc still left to the perplexity 
of determining whether the armies of the young Emperor nrc 
icidly to be for us or ugaiust us. 

At the same time it must be admitted, that the overluTC^ ol\V& 

TOL. xxxri, « 



Czar uoiT for the first time contain verv important concessions, 
lind that if these concessions ure fmnkly made on one side, deve- 
loped and rendered efficient on the oilier, they offer possibilities of 
peace more worthy of consideration than the ambiguous advances 
of Russia nt any previous time. 

It is »aid now, that Kussia offers to concede, nhat previously 
she never would listen to, the ndmission of a joint protectorate of 
all the European powers, for causing the lires, liberties, and 
interests of the Chriatiuu Rayahs of Turkey to be respected. 
Tiicre are some who recoil at the very mention of a protectorate 
as injurious and menacing to Turkey. Ixt us, however, not 
stick at u.-imea, or (|uarrel about theuj. The atlentiuu of Europe 
is now 89 fully fixed upon Turkey, and our commercial and poli- 
tical relations with that country arc not only now so many and 
80 universal, hut certain to augmcni daily, that th« interest borne 
by the Christiiins of the West to the Christian races in Turkey, is 
Homethiug tliat cannut be eS'accd. IJI<jt the word prutcclurate 
from every tn;iity, and even omit the use of it in crcry nego- 
tiation, the protecting hand of the Christian countries and go- 
vernments of Europe will not less he felt; and any grave out- 
rage upon the Christiatia of the Levant, every act of opprossioD 
and oblivion of their rights, will infallably arouse public opinion 
to demand remedy and reparation. In this state of things to 
banish the word protectorate truni treaties will he of no avail. 
The feeling and the necessity will always exist. It is for the 
Turks to leave this Rymptithy and protecting feeling no object, 
by at last treating their foi-mer Rayaha as brethren and as equals. 
If Utev do not advance towards this, Europeans will interfere, 
if not by amis, at lea^t by agitntion and expostulation, and in the 
end, perhaps, by material sympathy, or an imitation of American 
flibustery. It is better far to obviate all this by a common treaty 
betweeu all the powers of Europe, to which Turkey itself need be 
no party. This treaty may provide, that no one power apart 
from, or iudependeut of the other, sball interfere or demand 
cither reparation or amendment with regard to the trentmeut of 
the Christian subjects of the Porte. 

Some doubt, however, exists as to the fulness of the concessions 
on the part of Ru-tsin, which, it is said, excepts the rights of the 
Ku««u>Gt'eek Church at Jerusiilcm. As Russia is aloue of this 
persuasion, it repuiiiHte?i the idea of Roman Catholic or Pro- 
testant governments inlcrfcrinx in negotiations with regard to 
a subject to which their ideas must be foreign, and their interests 
Opposed. Such a demand, if made, is ni>t admissible ; and 
wrhntever specious reason Russia may have for alleging that this 
ijuostiun regiu'da merely her and the Porte, it is plain that tbc ex- 
ciusivo protectorate or interference of Russia can in no ca-io be 
Admitted, as it would reopen the door for all tbo^e quarrels and 
cnibarrassments that have occurred. If, however, Kussia has 
iDude iu good faith the concession of establishing a joint, instead 
of an exclusive protectorate, over the lUyalis of Turkey, it is plain 
that she must abandon any similar claim with respect to the 






jPfttrmrdi, nnd cvmi tlic Clirlstiftns, wlio will be touch wder under 

flb« general ganrautee of Europe, tlmu under tempcniry stiptitu- 

ftions, drawn up under tiie pressure and in the precipiutioii of war. 

TIic other point which llussin is represented as williug to cede, 

is the complete freedom aud opening of the Daoubc. If Russia 

be ■aincere jn this offer, she must be prepared to abandon her 

lutino and vexatious establiahiucots and batteriw at the dif- 

it outlets of that greni river. Its atnJnm must bccmne really,] 

well as nominally, free. And no Russian colours, i^uus, aa- 

litarr or other authorities, must bo seen upon the Danube. 

If these two concessions he frankly nnd fully madc^ nnd at the 

twoe time the speedy evAcuatioa of the Principalities promised, 

• it then Ixrcomts a qucntiou ^vhctUcr such cunc(.-t>siuus uuglit nut to 

titfy the belligerent powers, aud whetlic-r they mi^hc not bo 

[made the bnsis of future peace. ^Ve most confesa here, as an 

ipiiiiou, thai BUL'h otl'urs arc not to be despised or scouted. They 

[ooght not, indeed, to be Allowed to interrupt military operations, 

' until we hnre proofs that the offers are real and sincere, and will 

lie allowed to be citcndcil to the full ^itisfiictiun of the Uu prcnt 

«omplaiuts and dangers which they meet. But, at the same time, 

"we are decidedly of the opinion, that such oQers ou^-ht not to be 

'li^itlr rejected without a hearing on the f^unil that they are 

jlntiimaesc, and that the allies had not yet acquired cither the 

l^uuiteea or the glory, which would warraut their putting an 

lend to the war. 

The ubjtn-'tions to entertaining even a thought of peace at this 
Ivomrnt — objections hut loo general — are, fir^t, that we have not 
jluid glory enough, and thai wc have not struck a good blow with 
'cither fleet or army. Aloreover n guarantee is to be obtained 
«lon^ with glory — a material gunrantec, such as Lord Lyudhurst 
intistcd on. Let it be Bessarabia or the Crimea ; a conquest, in 
fnct, of some kiud, to exist as a proof that Russia was humbled. 
*Iliere are utliers u'hd do not prc&d so much for permanent con- 
4)acst M for a great ftcliicvcnieut— the capture of Sebastopol, the 
deatniction of the Russian fleet. And many would fain follow 
this up by stipulating that Russia shall never ngftin be atluwcd to 
have an overgrown lleot on the Black Sea menacing to Constan- 
tinople and t» Kuropc. 

Such sentiments and demands are certainly very natural, nnd 
by no means nujusl. But are they prudent (o entertain? ^Ve 
ahall be much delighted Co hoar that Sebastopol is dustmyefl. 
Mid thatCmnstftdt in taken. "Wc should be eveu still more pleased 
to learn, that Omer I'acha, Lord Raglan, and the Marshal Ht. 
Arnaud had advanced, and defented the Russians in a pitched 
battlr. But the "Jidinbnrgli Review," tlic orgftn of the Whigs, 
lusurefl us, that an advance of the English army is impusstblu 
until it can collect means of transport from Asia, RunijK: affurd- 
iog none. The "Times," another ministerial organ, though, wc 
admit, a very independent one, presses for aSehastupol expedition, 
on the very ground, that an advance beyond the Danube is impos- 
sible, and that a battle or even stnitegic manoeuvres ate uoX, VqNi<^ 

It 1 





expected from armies so destitate of cat&Iit as ours, and so fnr 

short of tUe immense masses to which the east of Europe is accus- 

"We do not licltcvc in these obstacles; and we deprecate such 
dixsuasioDS, fur rcaaoas thHt we shall show by aud by. War should 
never stand still, and wc do not see insurmountable obMruction to 
auy of these achicvcmcots. But, after all, their success it not 
^certaiu; and we should thiuk wli»t we might ask of Kumib even 
f^er their succesafiil accomplishment, in order to arnvc at a fair ' 
conception of what we onglit to demand previous to incurring the 
risk, tlic loss of life, the expenditure of resources, strength, and 
means, which must be the rnsult of nil great naval aud iniUtaTj 

First of nil, what is meaut by material guarantees? that por- 
tentous word, invented by Lord Lyndliurst, or, indeed, taken bj 
him from the Czar's own vocabuhirj-. The capture of the Crimea, 
and its pcnunncnt retbutiou from Russia, or restoration to the 
Turks, would, indeed, deprive the Ituasians of a seajwrt, and iuca- 
pncitatc thciu for some time from lording it on the Black Sea. 
But the restoration of the Crimea to the Turks, or its retcntioa 
by 118, eould be inserted in no treaty of peace that was not pre- 
ceded by a campaign, or eampuigns, overrunning Itussia, and 
threatening it with pcrmaitoiit occupation. Napolcoa demanded 
little more of Alexander than that he should proscribe English 
increbaiidisc, and make war upon Etigliah policy. Ratbcr than 
submit to this, Alexander atlowed his capital to be burned, his 
couutry ravaged aud occupied by -100,000 men. Nicholas must re- 
sort to a Mimdar extremity rather than abandon the Crimea; and 
unless we arc prepnrcd to emulate the French expedition of 1812, 
wu had better not demand that ivUich liusaia cauuut grant without 
signal dislionour and deep Immillntion. I f we cannot take thcOrimea 
permanently from Russia, what material goarantee ean we have that i 
she shall never meuace the Porte? To deprive her of Bessarabial 
would give no such guarantee. Had we not better bo contented 
■with other than a materiid guarantee? Turkey and its position 
aud its independence make no part of the general law of Europe. 
They were exclndcd at the congress of Vienna. Let it now become 
B law of Kuropeaa policy, that no existing power shall extend its 
territories nearer to CtmstJintinoplc. Let the Dardanelles and the 
Bo«ph(>ru8 be tabooed to the Hmbilion of any and of every slate. 
Let tbe Danube be declared free, aud the Principalities neutral. 
Let all future relations of European nations with tiic Porte be 
mnnagcd by a general commission, not individual claims orcflbrtt. 
Let Russia solemnly accept such terms; and Europe, we thiuk, 
need not require any other or more material guarantee. 

There are, however, some politicians iu both Whig and Tory 
ranliH, who think that the present war ought not to be allowed to 
pass nway without compelling Russia to recede from her advanced 
jwsitiuns bouth of the Cnncasus. They recommcud the tiiking of 
the Crimea, the destruction of all Russian domination over the 
CircassiaiiB, and their expulsion from Georgia, The "Edinburgh 



rirw" even recommends that OmcrPncha and liis army slioiilc 
"be trmnsferrcd to Krxerum to effect the Intter object, leaving,' thp 
l>atiubiRn proviuces, with tlie aid ofAuBtrifl, lo take care of thcm-i 

It would, iDdccd, bare hcca most desiraMe to hare maintniiicd 
I the independence of Ocorfria nnd Arnicnia — a great objcrt, wliicU i 
[<Ki^lit to have been looked to from the coiunieneeineut ol" tlie rejgr 

' Nicholas. Unfortuiintely we have allowed Rii>8ia to nssnmo| 
tn this r<'^ioii the chnrncter of the ouly Christian protecting! 
jiower. iMcuaccd and maltreated by the two great Mnh»ui«dnuf 
nnd emijires, the Chriattnns of tticse regions have found am 
igcr and a gu.irdian in Kussia. We, in order to tear thcn^J 
F/rotu UuMia, have no other «»y of doing »y than of allying withtj 
|tlie .Mu»snl[DDn tribes and empires, and restoring their domina-j 
m. We m»y make it plain in Europe, that in supporting foi 
the moment, and for the mnintcaancc of the c\isting empire, thtt^ 
Crescent against the Cross, we by no means wish permanently tuj 
degrade the Cro*3. But how are we to convince the Georgians of 
this? English officers lead the Tutkish nrniics iu Arnitmia. Oui 
'lia»a! odiccrs and our diplomatic agents have fraternised with tha-" 
I prophet Sctiitrayl and the Circassian Mahomcdiius. Bat this is'i 
far moro menacing than eiiconniging to the Georgian Christiaus^^ 
who seem to ser\*e the Czar with enthusiiwrn, and who have no 
kffjuon to re>{Hrd the Kiigli»h as liberators. Supposing thaC^ 
rGcorgift were rescued from the Cznr,whsit is to be its fate? Is iCiJ 
be restored to Persian sovereignty or •uxeraitity? How is it-' 
[to be protected from the mountain triljes which seeli to dominate 
loTcrandplundcrthe inhabitants of the lower regions and valleys?^ 
Vc may get over the diBiculty of having Greeks and Slavons<4 
ittgaiust us iu ThcssQly and in Bulgaria; but, in Georgia, we can 
Btithcr bring the same forces nor the same nrgumeut.s against the 
Kussinas. We cannot march to the liberation of a people who* 
do not wish to be liberated, nud who prefer a Christian to a Ma^j 
bouedan sovereign.* 

Iu the programme, however, of the requirements which we 
fthonid imist upon in making peace with Russia, was the indepen- 
dence of the Circasiiaus. \Ve canuot, it is said, abandon a people., 
with whom wu have opened coiunmnicatiou, to whom we sentf 
l«(lic«rs and arms. Tiord Lynilhunt insisted upon this, and no 
doubt there is n general feeling throughout the countrj- and in 
Partiament in fiivour of the Ciroissians. Their indulgence in 
their own peculiar, but not cruel, slave-trade, does not destroy 
I their popularity with us. We are not inclined to quarrel with 
them on account of their patrinrchal Imhits. But we miiitt say, 
that to stipulate in a treaty Cor the independence of the Circas- 
Binns, is to establish the causes of eternal war. Could wo send 
1CK>,000 men from India, move them from Bassora to Tiflis, nnd 
drive the Russians fi-om Transcaucasia altogether, then wc might 

* 8i« hi Haxthaiuca'i Transcaucasia, the aenlimeals vf* tbo AmMnians 
lowanli Kussii. 



pretend nntl liope to establish the Cancnsua itself ns indcpendnit. 
But to tdl KuMia that Geor{;ia and ArmeiuH »K»II be left her, hut 
ihnt the Tcry niiul to hoth shiill he bloclicd up nj^aiiist her, ih to 
aim ftt what is iniprnrticnblc. Were Russia to stipulnto th»t she 
irould respect Cin:at» independence, she could ntntx obsene 
such stipuintion ; the feuds would be eternal, the causes of quarrel 
daily. "Wc hnvc no doubt that thi^ vcrr question of the indepen- 
dence of the Circnssinnii forms one of tbc chief considerations of 
the Cabinet, called as it is at present to wei<;b the oilVrs of 
Russia, which arc known to content the Pnissittns, and which has 
not been stamped by the disapprobation of Austria. The Vienna 
Conference is, no doubt, to meet again to discnsit and answer 
them. But they are too grave to be cren discussed at Vienna 
before rrrerencc is made to eacb court, and n decisive opinion 
obtained. Tlils decisive opinion is a very difficult matter to 
arrive at and be n^eed about iu the British Cabinet. Austria and 
Prussia arc, of course, nyerse to any tcnderncsx for Circnasia 
atanding iu tbc way of peace. Austria*8 anxieties are for the 
Duuubc, not the Koubaii ; and if wc arc to continue the war fur 
Circiissin, it is quite evident that the succour of the Gcrm:in 
powers ii not to be counted up^jii. "Whether Frauce is likely to 
prolong the war for the sake of the Cireassitms, in another point. 
But it ia much to be feared that, however we may count upon the 
staunch alliance of Franco, and the wretched racillnting MupporC 
of Austria, forthcEnropcin quc-siion of rirndcnng Constantinople, 
the Danube, and the Principalities independent ol" Itutaia, we 
cannot count upon their support nud alliimce for the purpose of 
any Asiatic policy. 

But to come to any conclusion respecting the justice or expe- 
diency of conditions of peace, we must consider tlic actual state, 
and prospects, and possibilities of the war. Looking to them, it 
must be admitted tliat the Russiaus have egrcj;ion^Jy failed ia 
their offensive operations, and have not obtained any one sinijle 
object proposed by them at the outset. Never had a great mi- 
litary monarch fairer opportuuilic». He had seized the Principa- 
lities, turned to the use of his armies its resources, and had months 
to prepare in Bucluircst for any plan of offensive operations that 
militiiry talent and eipcricnce cuuld devise. The TurLa had never 
more ilian 80,000 men, of which a great portion were in-efridam. 
Of these men 15,000 were in the Dolirucbeha, 30^000 in Widden 
or at Sophin, The Danubian fortrcsscji required their garrisons, 
and Omer Pacha had actdom more than 30,000 men at Shumla. 
If the Russians were at all eqiuil to tlieir reputation, here weic 
ample opportiiniticH of victory. But no use was made of tlicia. 
The Russian soldiers ahowcd a want of conrage at Oltenitxa, and 
faltered when called on to march to the assault of even u ditch. 
At Cctnte they were equally worsted when on the defensive. Gorts- 
chakofF was paralysed by the vieiuily of our fleets, whose atcamers, 
it waa Ihonght, would penetrate the mouth of the Dauuhe, and 
disturb oiieintions on its sonthern side. Paskeaitch oTcrnilcd 
tb/t hesitatiojij nod j'usbed Luders over the river quite needkwly : 




"wt nerer dnraioci) of penetrating into the Dnnube, intcrferinf; 

rith tl)p enemy's oj:cnitioiis, or Hdvniiciitg lieliind Buchnrest. But 

■11 llitT Russian caution nnd prcliininnry movcineuts k>»t fur tliem 

prccicns time i nnil when ther did form the siege of Sitistniij it 

^ma too Into to mftke regnlHt iipprondies to it, mennced ns were the 

_ trswith the allies frum VHrna. The Russian genemi, thcrc- 

|ireci|)itntcd tin; opcratioiia of the aiegf, risked prciniitnre 

:s, which bilcd and dishenrtencd the soldiery. The csHitiplfri 

during of ollicers nud {;onernl could uut supply ur restore their 

tt; Mild I'nskewitch was obliged, for the first time in bia 

'career, to nbnndon n military enterprise. 

This failure has had ita effect upon the Czar. If, with the 
A 11^1(1- French but lonming in the (li&tnnce, he whs nnahic to bent 
the Turlift, to win a fortttied pftssagc over the Danube, or strike 
a blow at Schiimla, bow aliould he bo|>e for any rquid aueccbs when 
tbct allied troops advanced, and eren Atutrin was bound to mnrcli 
to their aid tinleso Rusajir retired from the Danube? The Cjtnr hn«.| 
«vow«d himself sensible uf this by the oiler of ibcfic terms of pcncOi 
rliiefa ve hare been discussing. They coiitnin certainly much.] 
Iter coucewious thnn he w»a willing to ninke at the- con)>.| 
icemcnt of the cani|)Hign; bo that the war m far, Itowevet 
martcd by no rcry astounding trait of heroism or military genius, 
cannot be wiid to have been unproductive. 

It IB, huvevcr, iiut fair to calculate or sum up the military 
nrsiiUs of n canipHi^n in the mouth of July, by whicli time the 
fprrliminariea for striking a gri?«t blow may only have been coiu- 
>letod. We happen to have good sources of intelligence from the 
laltio, and we believe the eoiincttou of the aavnl commanders 
there is, that Cronstadt may be reduced. There has hitherto been 
■bown the utmost caution in making known to the enemy even the 
power of attack, lest they might be induced to alter and improve 
their mode of defence. The new mortars and the spherical shtlla 
have not been ever tried, except at Woolwich, so lliiit their employ 
and their deatructivu rcMuUa iit Croustadt will piobuhly be theti 
introduction to the world, ThotM; mortnnt cau throw their shcUs^ 
a dktaace of betu ecu three and four miles, and wiih such preei- 
^NBon aa to full within a space of tivcnty yards square. The acliuu 
these thelU, thrown from the anchorage hitcly explored, and 
rfaicfa is completely without the range of the giiii;* of either the 
IbrtrcM or iU forts, is such i\5 to render certain the destruction of 
erery wooden count rnct ion within the town, and harbour, and forts- 
of Croastadt, including, of course, the twenty sail of the liue^ 
The latter feat achieved, or even half achieved, the admirals would 
brave the fort« ^t ith their line -of -battle Eihip.4, and follow each other 
' -elusc tu the chief batteries of Croll^tadt itself. It has been onid 
of late, even in Parliament, that a vouci uf wnr cannot engage ia 
■ contest with a stone battery. This u[>iiiion hu* been a subject 
of derision in the fleet. Of the auenitited batteries in tiers, it 
it well known that it is only the first dischiirgcs that arc formida- 
ble, so bbudiug is the smoke. It is Sir Charles Nupicr's opinion, 
tbat there is no battery ia c:Ki6tencc that coitlA \w\\ owt \.ttevA^ 



minulcs before tlic brondsidrs of the DnVe of 'VVrllinfrton poured 
fortb at the rnte of three rounds in two luiDUtes. Our line-of- 
hiUtle &htps have uot yet durini; the wnr brcn placed in front of 
a batter)*; when they arc they will blow, tiot only the stone bat- 
tcrleSf but the piles of theory built upon them, into the nir. Sol- 
diers, however, are requisite to complete the work which snilors 
have commenced. The cnptiire of CroiiHtmlt renders the destinic- 
tiun of St. Pctei-sburf,' I'casible — how or why, it is for ibe pri;sfiiit 
premature to explain. Jiut whenever the results of wnr hnve been 
achieved, und when it is desirable fur our fleets iiud troops to retire 
from CroustHdt, it h quite possible to restore the islaud on which 
the fortress ia built to its originnl state ; that is to a mere snud- 
bank, over %vhicL the waters llow witeiicvcr the prevalence of cer- 
tain winds einixei tliem to rise, as it does, in a kind of title. 

The conquest of Cl"on»tftdt, with the subsequent operations for 
the (Icstructiuu of St. Pctei^bu^, luust nut be supposed conclu- 
sive of the Cznr's subniia&ion. He ucvcr pretended to compete 
with IDngland iu nuval power, much less witli Kngland and 
France. And his furtresaes and even his capital bcin}; knocked 
about by the most powerful alliance and mightiest Hect that the 
world ever saw, may make the Cz^ir still more determined to wear 
out hiti oppoiuMit!!, Hud defy tlient, as Alexander did Napoleon, 
from his vii<it solitudes. What the capture of Cronstadt would 
not do, could the capture of Scbastopol eftcct t The conquest of 
Scbastopol U admitted on all hands to he a mllit»ry more than 
n uaviU operation. It is a lortiv^'s completely dependent on the 
Und. It is conimaniled by higlier grounds, and from those Ingher 
grounds it is even supplied by vvnter^ which is not to be had 
otherwise within the towu. Sebastopol must therefore be rc- 
doced by a laud fiirce, and that land foi-cc must be an army equal 
to the conque<>t of the Crimea. 

At present the tide of public opinion sets strongly for an ex- 
pedition to the Crimea. This is a craving for something tangi- 
ble, and most doctors deprecate a prosecution of the war on the 
hanks of the Seretli or the Pruth. The "Edinburgh Review" 
cTcn recommends the transference of Oracr Pasha and of his army 
to Armenia and Georgiiu It is, however, upon the D»nube, the 
Dnicbtcr, the Thciss, and the Pnilh, that the fate of empires in 
the south rtnd rjist of Knropc have always been decided. We 
have said before, that lleeta do not decide tlie falc of kingdoms. 
\Vc uiiglit add, neither do nicgcs. Napoleon, tliougb an ar- 
tillery (itficcr who first rose to eminence in the conduct of a 
siege, still hnd a horror of sieges. Jlc ncrcr undertook one when 
lie could help it. He knew it to be one of great dilliculty, time, 
and losH, with no propoi-tionatc result. That, which iu war, is 
productive of most results, is the winning of a battle, or victory 
ui the licld. An army that takes a toMU or fort, may not take 
another. It may be considered an isolated exploit. But a 
general that bents the armies uf a potentate iu the Iteld, will be 
presumed able to beat other armies. Tlic i}atllcs of Jena, of 
Auateriitx, of Wagruw, were decisive. The beaten monarch came 




to tbc ftct of his mnquisher. No siege, uo blockade, no caphure 
of a town, or even of n capital, can have thcsnuic I'csiilt. If, there- 
fore, wc »ro beiit on decidedly liumbliufi; the Czar ; if wc arc not 
to be coDtented vith the freedom of the Danube, or the joiut 
protectorate of the IHirkish llnyahs — if we must have raatcrial 
gturautcea, »iich as Fiulanit, or the CrimcA, or Georgia, — and if 
wo pretend seriously to drive Kussih from the Black Sea^we 
miuit make np our mind and oiu* strength to bent her in the 
6eU. There i» no other way of doing it. Sebastopul, Cron- 
•tadt, Georgia, oil these are false scents. The field of battle nud 
of conquest lies before our armies at the present moment. The 
KuksinuB ue ill Moldavia to the iioi-th of the Danube, whilst the 
Turks and the Anglo- French ore encamped upon it. March 
npou the Russians and beat them — that would be Napoleon's 
plan. ]f we cannot do that, we had better make peace. There 
U no use, nor dignity, in blustering against Kussia, and not at- 
tacking her armies where they arc to be found. To go aside 
from tbcm, to run to the Crimea, whilst they are iu Moldavia; 
to plead that wc have no mules to carry officers' portmanteaus, 
that we cannot move wttliout the means of transport, tlmt wc 
have not cavalry tu meet the s(|uadrun8 of Russia, thai, ihc coun- 
try M too vast to enter upon, too low to be healthy, too rude, and 
depopulated, aud sterile, for occupnlion — all these are but ex- 
cuses to evade aud escape tbe true bruul of the war. Tbcy 
betray fear, and a disindiuntiou to meet even a diiicorafitcd 
enemy, which can but embolden that enemy, aud allow him to 
recover streugth and courage. "We know the difficulties to he 
coateuded with, the risks to be ruu. The army which attacks 
Baada is no liomogeneous one, obedient to a single command, 
moved by a genius and a will. There arc scvcrnl commanders, 
who hasc to connect nud tu combine. War has not proved or 
developed the lalrnts of any general, or given him the ouly true 
right to commimd, the oidy daim to be listened to and obeyed 
without demur. 

It matters not. Great things have been done, and great cha- 
racters achieved at first by men who had very defective materials. 
Look at Kapoleou eiilcring upon his first Itidiaa campaigns. 
Did he write to the Directory that he could not move because be 
wauted means of transport ? Did he hesitate to march his shoe- 
leas troops through the snows and rocks of the Alps? Did ho 
wait to discipline his revolutionary bands? No — he merely 
soogbt out the nearest aud surest way to reach the enemy. Na- 
poleon, with 30,000 men, and less, attacked double the number of 
foc». Wc do not expect to see such wonders or such military 
genius M'pcated. But the 100,000 Anglo-French arc alone, un- 
supported hy cither Turks or Austrians, a full match for the force 
wiueh the iiuBsiaus have really in tbe Priucipalitics. The gal- 
lant Turks are ready to support tbcm. A bold aud instautaueoua 
advance of so spirited and ample n force, would, we will be bound 
to say, terminate the war iu uue cauipaigu by tbe utter rout 




Bt Silutria nnd 

and discomfiture of those soldiers who 

Talk of giiarantepfi, mntcrial ones I there is no ^unrnntec ccituil 
to thnt of beating one*a enemy in the field, nnd humblin;? Wa 
militarj' n-putntion. This is wlnit wc tmght to expect and aim at, 
hut which certainly nur war-ofliw; will not enjoin. It is siifll- 
cient to pcrnsc tho4C organs vhich \itivc Bcec« to ralnistfrinl 
thoughts to see titat every man in anlhority shriiika from a bold 
campni^, or a decisive battle, a» aonictliinj; far too full of risk to 
be contemplated. Accordingly one recommends ut to nm to Ar- 
menia, another would send the tn>ops under cover of the fleet to 
Sehastopol. Any roail is {:ood thai leads away frnin the camp 
and the mitin body of the foe. This i* the system of making war 
vitbont risk and without result, taking the longest time about it, 
and incurring the latest expense. Thus did we make war untU 
the Duke of Wellington arose ; and thus ^hall we make war until 
wc get a general who hna earned a reputation, nnd can impose 
his will upon a wnr-offic^- at home, instead of being the pnppct of 
its feeble pulling of the strings. 

There arc no politicians, or no people, more fitted to wage a 
Btrenimus war, than those whose mind i;* quite elcr.r as to what is 
to be desired ns the end of that war. Nothing is to be so depi-e- 
coted or combated as n vague and indcBnitc desire for gloiy or 
vcngeauce, stirred by calumnies against the Cxar, vilifying his 
every act. or cahcnturing htm in the ahnps as Satan. All tlm is- 
puerile, nnworthy of a great nation. Our enemy wanted to con- 
quer and subdue his neighbour. At liis nge we ourselves had iio- 
otlicr desire a» a nation. He hns employed aome cunning and mucK 
faUchoofI to attain his purposes. Wc have seen throngh tins, un- 
masked it, nnd have alremly defeated his purpo>es and discomfited 
his nmhition. Hut we must go fniiher, not with n view to puni'^h 
him — veiigcancc may be heroic in romance, it is puerile in the 
present age of history — but with a determination to preclude any 
micK attempt for the future. 

There are two ways of attempting this. One is, to show him, 
that his aim at conquering Turkey is impossible ; that Knrope will 
never admit it ; and that two powers, or even one, are snHicieut 
to prevent it : compel him to submit to, and join iu, a general £ii- 
rojicnn trcJity, to the effect of rendering Turkey, ns much ns France, 
or Germany, or Spain, a country, which, ^thatcver its iatcm&l 
revolutions, no other power or powers can despoil, or subdue, or 
pnrtition. If Russia will not consent to this, make war upon her 
till she does; not to conquer or to humiliate Ruwisi, or deprive 
her of ronqucsts such as mnke a natural portion of her umpire, 
but merely to bring her in to the common law of the civilised 

The other wny of attacking and eeehing to fmder Russia harm- 
less, leads to nothing less than her conquest, the heating her armies 
one after the other, nnd advancing into her country, nnd dic- 
tating terms at Moscow and St. Petersburg; which terms might be 






to TFsiore Rnlnnd to Sweden, Bessnrabin to Turkey, the sliores of 
the Block Sea ta a Tarlnr prince. 

We do not »»y but tbnt llic extreme obstinncT of Jtnssin, nnd 
Uie dclrrminntioii of tlie Cznr to iitrolve all Kumpe in n snn- 
Kuionn* and inretcmte war, rnthcr than Hbnndon hts designs iipoa 
Turkey — ve do not say tlmt lie miglit not provoke Kiirope to trcst 
brm Its Kurope trentcd Niipoleoii in 1KI5. Hut for ihc prewnt, it 
woatd Rpprar to us sufficient to compel Russia to mitke thriic fnir 
lenni, nitliout inflictin^r noy very severe or scusibic blow upon her 
national power. Then? is, we believe, no mediiiro between the 
two lines of policy. We must either reduce Russia to enter into 
recofrnisnuceB, and into a commou bond with Europe, without 
woanding her national pride; or we must proeced to such extreme 
war as can only be tcrnjinatcd at Moscow, or, if needs be, at To- 

There is no medium between there altcmstii'es : for if we humi- 
liate and control Russia without absolately crushing her, she will 
■u^ brood over vengeance, nwait her time, and niti-a-muck nt 
Barope when an opportunity offers. When wc join to this consi- 
dcratioQ tbo imjiusGibihty of cxpectint; thtit the Ctermuu powers 
will go any length nt all in reducing Russia, and the doubt that 
FniDc« wnuld be inclined to embark, lu a long war with the pros- 
pect uf i^ing to Moscow agRin, must induce every ratiouiil pi-rson 
to desire to stop nt the first nltcrnntive — that i.% to grant Russia 
irh terms as will not riidicnlly humiliate, or irritate, or hurt, 
rhibrt. they eflectUMlly pnnrantee the future inte°Tity oflHirkey, 
with the freedom of both the D.'^nube and the Black Sea. 

The most serions obstacles to nn early nnd model ate accommo- 
dation are presented by the tortuous nnd ambiguous atyle of the 
ILaninn Chancer^' ; and this by the tone of superiority wliicK 
B^Maforthe last hnlf century has been Hllowed tnnsHume. and t)ic 
language of ndnlntion in which she has hccn universally addressed. 
yS'e do think that the late terms sent from St. rctersburg-, ad- 
dreaaed to Prussia and to Austria, contain the principal eoneessioua 
desired. But the;i' have been so ambiguously stated, and aecom- 
prmicd with such Kordy exceptions about the ri^its of the church 
a6 antiquo, and sn on, that to a plain English eye the Russian 
offer appcnnt dictated by a mere wish to deceive. 

In the statement of ministerial views nin<lc by Lord John Rus- 
sell Ui his supporters, at the mreting which he convened of them 
on tbe 17tli, he treated the offers of Russia as trifling, and not 
worth a momeut's oonsidRration. He did nut ileuy that ihey met 
nil the wishes of Prussia, and that the .\nstrians did not think them 
insufficient in thrmselres, but not enLculnted to satisfy the nn.ikcucd 
•nweptibilities and increased exigencies of the Western powers. 
This Was preliminary to fresh demniids of money, which of course 
have beeu freely granted. And England determines pruiiecuting 
tlie war, as, indeed, ought; to be done, even if the minds of the 
public and uf mitiisten were made up to accept niodcr.ttc terms. 

What renders Lord John Rtiasell doubly right is, that the alti- 
tude auumed hj- Austria reodcTM it imperative on tbc <)V\tiit 9\\vc» 



to iJrovc tlicir superiority to Russia unaitled by that power. We 
lire rcjuiced CIihI Austria luis held buctc, for by nmrchiiig into 
Wallnchift slm woold have separated tlie two great nrmics, in- 
stead of showing the iuferiurity of one or other, bv which a settle* 
nieut can bo sooncat nrriveil at. Taking post between tliem, a 
■moral and also a physicnl srbitcr, Austria, in occupiing the Prin- 
ci^julities, nii^'ht have fipun out negutiatioii ad injinilum. Ditt'cr- 
cncc of opinion sceniH to have prevailed between the French nnd 
Engbsh — one, perhaps, for Roing to Scbastopol, another for niarch- 
iag upon turdy Austria. Now, however, things have assumed an 
aspect uhtch renders douht and difference impossible. 

Russia, tindiug that the oft'ers which she made were not likely 
to be accepted, and that much more would be asked of licr, ban 
summoned Austria not to aid the allies in obtainini; that more, 
and has asserted her abihty of lierself and alone to keep the allies 
in check. To accomplish this her armies have been recalled from 
their retreat towards the Sereth, and called back into Wallachia 
to dispute it. This is brave ; and it has the advantage that it will 
bring the war to a speedy decision. The Turks not only will, but 
liave passed the Danube. They have taken Giiirgcvo by the skill 
of Omer Pacha aud their own bravery. They are deternnued to 
maiutain themselves, and the Anglo-French must march to their 
succour. To all appearance the Russians arc determined to stand 
on the defensive around Bucharest, and to offer battle in the 
licinity of the capital of Wallachia. 

Oortscliakoft' is evidently a commander who has no objection 
to an cstcniled Hue; he kept his troops spread over the whole 
breadth of Wallachia. Paskcwitch is, on the contrary, a com- 
mander who concentrates his forces, lie seems to have had the 
right instinct, but not tho judicious vigour to act npou it. Pas- 
kcwitch lost a month before attacking Silistria, solely to give time 
to the corps of Ludcrs to occupy the Oobrniischn, ajid advance 
upon Silistria, so as to cover it oti the side of Varna. It turned 
out that there was not the least use in the movement; for the 
Russians very easily threw bridges across the islands below Silis- 
tria, and catnbUshcd a communication in a few hours, which it 
took Ludcrs weeks to do. And after all, the Russian army was 
stopped by a redoubt, such as the French cuirassiers took at Bo- 
roilino with a cliars;c. There -wtm. not even a ttone-Iacing to the 
redoubt of Arab Tahia, nothing but grass, which a child could 
run up and down. There was never more than -WK) Turks in this 
redoubt. The Russians directed a division of G,OUC> men against it. 
It was not that the Russian soldier could uot take Arab Tabin, but 
that they would not. The goncnila and officers sacrificed them- 
selves iu vaiu. There is etideutly something wrong with the 
Russian soldier. He wilt tight when lie must, and when flight is 
impossible. Hut the enthusiasm necessary for a daring hand-to- 
haud fight the Russian wants, while tho Turks possess it. A 
continuance of the war would, no doubt^ equalise this; for the 
Russian cannot want n.itura! courage. But the few encounters 
that hare tukeu place ought to encourage thti geueral of the Buro- 




pean annies to press on, aud figlit a geoeral battle this campaign 
rather tbau nc\t. 

Ttie Kussimn commandere arc not tlie only ones of tbc present 
war who do ia Jane aud July wliat they miglit have done in April 
and Ma-jr. Ic is only now, for cxnmplc, that the British have 
deoiroycd the Kussiaa forta at the SuUiia mouth of the Danube, 
and taken passcssiou of tticm, ImmcdiHicly upon news of this, 
the Hiiuians are abandoning Tunktchn, Toultsch, and Matchin. 
Woald they have ever takeu ibctu had ne been in possession of 
the Sutina forts? It may be considered that they woiihl not. 

To separate the Russians from the Danube altogether, take 
tiieir flotilla, aud isolate thctu from the sea, will be a great point 
gained, aad would, indeed, uf itaelf totally preclude the possibility 
of theJr staying in Wallachia. Meantime Otncr Pacha lias pnssed 
the Danube at Giur^cro, and he has a division of the tVench 
army to support him. We ahoidd hope that the ]i)nglish will not 
go ao for westward. Were they to pass at SiUstria, and march 
by Slobodsie upon Oalntz, of course supported by a simultaneous 
Mdrance of French and Turks, GortsdiakofT must either abandon 
JIuohiKit, or, in defending it, expose himself to be attacked on 
two aides. Tliere are but two ronds from AVnllachia into Mol- 
da»ia, that by Galata aud tJiat by Foksan. Jiy occupying the 
foruieri aud clearing the Danube from Silistria to Galatz, and 
from Galats to the sea, all want of commisisariat or transport 
would be avoided, and supplies of every kind could be received 
from np and from down the stream. It Appears that the Russinns 
are abandoning the fortrcMcii below G.ilalz on the two southern 
moaihb of the river. louiail, wliich is above, they will find it 
im|)o«sible to retain long. 

To tight a decisive action is, however, an object 8U[)erior to all 
otbcrvy and to which all others should give wuy. When one 
con«ders the Ktiunina and high morale of the British and French, 
wicli the xoIdicr-Ukc qualities of which the IWks have shown 
Uieiuselvcs possessed, not to bring them in line against the Kus- 
tianv, and compel the latter to an cngA|:emeiit, would be an 
cnormoua dereliction of duty and of skill on the part of the 
leaders. Success ncbievetl without vVnstria will deprive the 
Court of Vienna of the pretext and the power of cither retarding 
negotiations or rendering less effectual and final the conditions of 
llw pence. As Russia, therefore, thinks fit to take advantage of 
the month's respite which Austria has girco, so ongbt we by an 
immediate advance of our armies. We may depend upon it, that 
To beat the Russians in the fields of Wallachia and Moldavia, sup- 
ported by the French and Turks, will be a far easier matter than 
tu take Scbastopol. And if we are not to keep Scbaatopot, or to 
occupy tbc Crimea, but merely to burn a few ships, spike a few 
cannon, aud blow up the whole ammuuition, the capture of the 
fortnsH wtU be of no permanent influcnee on the war, whereas 
ft battle gained in the Principalities would finish it. 

But lu-dent as we arc for prevsiiig the war, especially in that 
direcoon and in those phcea, wlwrc the enemies arc to Vtc cotcv« 



Up wiib, we must conf&ss ourselves to be of tUc opinion, 
peace ouglit to be made with Russia on iuodcr»te turms. It is 
not the task, the basiQess, or the policy of Kiiglnnd to rEfduce 
Jiussin from being m first-rate poirer to the mnk of a sccondarj 
oue. We want to say to her peremptorily that her empire is 
nlrcndy large enough, and it sfanll advance no further along the 
coast* of that sea. In the freedom of that element we are com- 
iDeruiaily iutcrtrsted, nnd vc cnutiot admit such ngglomemtioii of 
power and uiouopolies of territories and of [tortu, which really cnonot 
be made use of by a nation so poor and of such few resources ua 
Kussia. Coustautiuople must not be Jicrs uor ret the Princi- 
palities. But having said this, wc hare said all. \Ve do not seek 
the ruin of Russia, uor yet do we want to establish eternal rivalry 
ivitb her. We do nut like eternal rivalries. We paid dearly 
for that, which was allowed to f^w up between us and Fniuce, 
and which has been happily put an end to. The bhiid multitude 
%ronld very much like to supply that expiring hatred by another 
Mul * new hatred for the Russian or the Yankee. We beg to 
ilepraoate the ueces»ity or the sentiment. We can live without 
inrcteratc foes. We must not nllow either Russia or America to 
roufEh-nde their neighbours, or overrun the Murld. But we must 
avoid natiuunl hatreds, and shuu the danger nud expense of set> 
tiDf ourselves up as rivaU or as foes to either Russia or America. 
The g^obe is vide enough for all ; and all hare their duties and 
thoir f(.-elini^. That they may fulfil these should be our desire, 
withuul uiakmg it nfcc«ary to our glory or our security to humble 
others. We go with Messrs. Brijflit and Cobden to the hmits of 
what is sensible and Christian. \Ve beg to stop short of the ex- 
travagaut, the sheepish, the factious, and the absurd. 

Strongly in favoor of a rigorous war, when there ia war, and 
of striking blows home at the armies of the enemy, instead of 
CHting shells iuto their towns, or parading before their ports, we 
an at the same time of the opinion, that peace anil its n;sntta 
would have far more effect in counterbalancing the power of 
Russia, than war can have to bring it down. Burning the tar, 
killing tlie serfs, or dismantlings the batteries of Rnssia is but 
destroying wliat a short time must replace. Nothing that war, 
or at iea»t that the present war can do. can cripple the develop- 
ment otKiiaia. liut the iK-.-icr, which shall follow tlie present war, 
by opening the Danube and the countries round the Black Sea to 
the commerce and communication of Kurupe, will run up n host 
of interests nnd influences, and resources, and ideas, which will 
act as moro powerful checks to llussia than armies. Let us take, 
Ibr example, the Oirittian provinces or kingdoms south of the 
CktUMBUS. IfOug oppressed by Persin, and only tevered from Ma- 
honadan tyranny by Russia, the Gcorgiana and Armeninn«i know 
no countries and no powers save those of Russia and of Turkey. 
Twenty years* peace and free communication with the mere efforts 
of the now large body of Armenian Protestants, wnuld awaken far 
different dispositions in the people of those countries. Towards 
Uie dose of the century Armenia and Georgia might aspire to 




be independent, or to vicid that influence otct the regions 
«outb ftad east of it, for whicU uature seems to h&ve tnteuded 
ihv cnullc of tlic finest of iLc liumao race, and wbcre, provi- 
dentially, the germs of Chrtalianity have never been stifled or 

How Tninly has it been hoped or attempted to stop Russian 
prugreu iu the ea«t of Eurofie duhug the Hit century ! Why? 
BecaUBC the powers of Kiirojie were not sufficiently ativc or in- 
ttfesCcd. Let there be thirty vears of peace, and at the rate nt 
which the world progresses, the Huropeaii public will be as much 
interested in Georsia and Circossia, as it is now in the countries 
of the Danube. The Itussians built forts, for the purpose, they 
aay, of preventing the export of youug females. Hud they 
liuocked down the castles, and facilitated the trade of tlic Cir- 
cudan coast with Europe, the chiefs there woidd soon have found 
•OHM other article of tnide, than the sale of the one or two youug 
females of their family in the course of a life. 

People arc always thrcatcuiug and alarming us with the pos»- 
liility of irnr, with the iiivasiou aud conquest of our Indian pus* 
sessions, for example, by war. If it was of vital importance that 
£ugland should continue for centuries to rule and to mouopolise 
India, wo should he far mure alarmed at this rule and this muuo- 
poly being inrnded and destroyed by peace than by war. For, 
whilst we utterly discredit and deride the idea of an armed 
Itusstan expedition to India, the peaceful progresa of I^uropean 
power iu Asia is most likely one day to iuterfere with our domina- 
tion. We have the Americans in Chiua and in Japan. W'e went 
to war with Bunuab, chiefly because au American consul was 
about to be established iu Ava. We have Ruesians nt Khiva aud 
^Bokanij and if she is wise, Russia will occupy both places, unt 
her guns, but her caravans and traders ; we having ourselves, 

rith' prescient liberality, ui^cued the [lurta of all our colonics to 

fureign tradent. And tlic (crcut eonutries of Kuroiw, France and 

Germany, will take advantage of it. In this we have been wise. 

for Asia is like Kurupe, if two colossal powers shared it, as 

""^nglnnd and Franco did Kurope at the commencement of the 

.'ntury, they would dispute it with a quarter of a century's 
wasting and bootless war. Whenever, thcu, that quarter of thej 

»bc, like that beneath and nround us, comes to be swayed hf\ 
icting aud numerous interests, the peaceful struggle may mj 
continued and the warlike onca be few aud unimportant — until] 
^Aiis, cither by its own regeneration, or by accepting F.uropeaa 
ideas of organisation and governmeul, become once more a civiU 
^iBcd portion of the globe. 

But what we should bear in mind for the present, and labouH 
Iu avoid for the future, would be to engage in a fierce aud 
eternal rivalry with Russia. At the pre:«cut moment onr allies 
iu Europe have far more limited aims than we. Prussia is 
gainst us. Austria is already satistied, and whilst suspending 
the march of her armies, has sent to know what we uiciin by tho 
guaraoteoa required for securing the iudependcocc of Turkey and 



the peace of the Levant. M'hat France requires ia, thut other 
powers should not extend their frontiers whilst hers rcninin sta- 
tionary. All, iu fact, are more easily satisfietl tlian we. And 
when they are satistied European peace will follow. Let us not 
80 muDHge, or be so inrctcratc, that an Asiatic struggle would 
then but commence m soon as the Kurojiean diO'crcnce was over. 
To a peaceful rivalry and sirui^ii^lc we have no oltjcction. But we 
have uo wish for the days of Darius and Alexander, even though 
we should prove to be the Macedonian, and never for a twenty 
years' war with the Continent, no, though it should end iu n 
second Waterloo. 


The foregoing was necessarily written and printed before Lord 
John Russell made lii» disclosure of llie views of the Briiish 
Gorcmmcnt In that statement the niinisLci- made known what 
were now ihc offers of Russia, when it became aware that the 
Allies would not be contented with the old etafua quo, and would 
require kucIi guarantees as the di&aruameut of ScbaKtopol. But 
Russia had made offers previous to these, in which she consented 
to evacuate the Principalities. Nay, she had begun to evacuate 
thcDi. To represent the later and seml-defianl attitude of Russia 
as the only ofl'cr she had inadc% is not jusl. If she now re- 
occupies Wallachia, and refusesi to evacuate the Principalities, it 
is that she is nwaro of her concessions being useless, and her 
offers being rejected. 

It is plain, however, that from the moment that England had 
determined to demand the dismantling of Sebastopol, and the 
disarmament of its fleet, there could bene accommodation ; equally 
plain, that peace is impossible, until it is dictated at the point of 
the Bword. In order to arrive at this, we adhere to the opinion, 
that the defeat of the Russian armies was the shortest and the best 
way. The consequence of our abandoning the countries of th« 
Danube will be, that tlio Austrians will not advance, and that we 
shall be obliged to nndert.'alce, in 1855, that expulsion of the 
Russians from the Principalities which might have been much 
more easily accoinplisht'd iu IH'i-l. 

With TGspect to Kcba-itopol, the enterprise, wc need not say, 
is rendered ten times more difficult by the full disclosure of 
our intentions; and that which was pomblc in the montli of 
July, will become a Herculean task in August. How despotic 
tnonarchs must laugh at the nnfitueew of constitutional govern- 
ments for war, with forces so slow to move, and plans of cam- 
paigns, which it is necessary to divulge previous to execution ! 


Bv CnABLCs Keadz, 


}uo llathom paced down tlie village with his ook stick u happj: 

I ; but for nil that lio was a little mystitied. But two hours ago 

i Robert had told him he loved Uachnel, and had asked liis leave tt> 

• marry her, and in answer to Iiis aii^ry, or to speak more correctly,^ 

lhi» violent rcfuKnl, had told him his heart vras bound up in hor^ 

|Sndhc would rather die than marry any other woman. What 

I could have worked suuli a sudden chanjjein theyoungninn'smindy"' 

M&y be 1 »hn1I tind out," was his concluding reflection ; and he 

vos right; he did find out, and the information came from a most 

vnex[)cctcd quarter. As he passed the villui^c puhlic-house he was 

li&tled from the jjarlour window ; he looked up, and at it wa» 

farmer Hickman, mug in hand. Now^ to tell the trutii, Hathnrn. 

I vos not averse to ale, especially at another man's expense, and, 

;tI)ougtit he," Furmer is getting beery, looks pretty red in the face; 

liowerer. Til sec if 1 can't jump something out of him about him 

I ftnd Rose." So he joined Hickman ; and in about half an hour he 

'also was redder in the face than at first. 

If the wit is out when tlie wine is in, what must it be when the 
beer is tn. 

Old Hathorn and Hickman were much freer over tlicir glass 
than ihey had ever been before, and Hathorn pumped Hickman ; 
but inasmuch as Hickman desired to be pun)|M;d, and was rather 
cunr.i ' ..If drunk than sober, the old fanner drew out of hit 

noil iv Rose, but lie elicited an artful and villanous mix- 

ui irutU and falsehood about Uachaet Wright; it was not a 
_ le sketch like that witli which he had destroyed Robert's hap- 
|Hnes» ; it was a long circumstantial history, full of discoloured 
truths and equivokes, and embellished mtb one or two good honest 
lies ; but of these there were not many ; poor Richard could not l>e 
.lionest even in dealing witii the Pcvil, a great error, since that 
'^personage is not to be cheated ; lioncsty is your only card in any 
tittle transaction with him. Thesympo^ium broke up. Hickman's 
bor«e was led round, he mounted, bade Hathorn good day, and 
went ufT. In passing the farm his red face turned black, and hej 
thook his fist at it, and said, 

" Figiit it Out now amongst yc.'' And the poisoner cantered 

In leading Robert liathom and others so far, we have &hot 
ahead of &ume little matters which must not be lett behind, since 
without them the general posture which things had reached when 



Bobert found Racliael tying up her bundle could hardly be under- 

When Mrs.Mayfield gave Hickman "the sack," or, as that coarse 
young man called it, "the bag/' she was in a towering passion, 
and not being an angel, but a female with decided virtues and 
abominable faults, she was just now in anything but a Christian 
temper, and woe to all who met ber. 

The first adventurer was Mr. Casenower: he saw her at a 
distance, for she had come out of the bouse, in which she found 
she could hardly breathe, and came towards her with a face alt 
wreathed in smiles. Mr. Casenower had of late made many 
tenders of bis affection to her, which she bad parried, by posi- 
tively refusing to see anything more than a jest in them; but 
Casenower, who was perfectly good-humoured and light-hearted, 
had taken no offence at this, nor would be consider this sort of 
thing a refusal ; in short, be told her plainly that it g^ve him great 
pleasure to afford ber merriment, even at his own expense; only 
he should not leave off hoping until she took his propos^ into 
serious consideration ; that done, and his fete seriously pro- 
nounced, he told her she should find he was too much of a gen- 
tleman not to respect a lady's will ; only, when the final "No" 
was pronounced, he should leave the farm, since he could not 
remain in it and see its brightest attraction given to another. 
Here be caught ber on the side of her good nature, and she replied, 
"Well, I am not anybody's yet.'* She said to herself, "the 
poor soul seems happy here, with his garden, and his farm of two 
acres, and hts nonsense, and why drive the silly goose away before 
the time?" So she suspended the final "No," and he continued 
to offer admiration, and she to laugh at it. 

It must be owned moreover that she began, at times, to have- 
a sort of humorous terror of this man. A woman knows by 
experience that it is the fate of a woman not to do what she would 
like, and to do just what she would rather not, and often, though 
apparently free, to be fettered by sundry cobwebs, and driven into 
some unwelcome corner by divers whips of gossamer. One day 
Mesdames Hatborn and Mayfield had looked out of the parlour., 
window into the garden, and there they saw Mr. Casenower, run- 
ning wildly among the beds, with his hat in his band. 

" What is up now ? " said Mrs. Mayfield, scornfully. 

"I dare say it is a butterfly," was the answer; "he collects 

« What a fool he is ! Jane." 

" He is a good soul for all that." 

" Fools mostly are — Jane t" said Mrs. Mayfield, very solemnly. 

"Yes, Rose!" 

" Look at that man ; look at him well, if you please. Of all the' 
men that pester me, that is the one that is the most ridiculous in 
my eye. Ha ! ha I the butterfly has got safe over the wall, I 'm 
so glad ! — Jane ! " 

C "Tou mark my words — I shan't have ftie b^Lterfl^'a luck." 



** What do you mean ? " 

" That roan is to be my huKband ! — that n all." 

"La, Row, hnw can yuu talk so! tou know he ia the last man 
tyou will ercr tuko/' 

*'0f course he is, and so he will take mc; I feel he will; 
1 can't bear the sight of him, so he is sure to be the ninti. 
Tou will see! — yoa will sec!" — and casting on her cousin a 
look that was a ronrvcUous compound of fun and bitterness, she 
left the room brusquely, witli one savage glance flung over her 
ithnuldcr into the gurdon. 

I do not say that such misgiTiugs were frequent; this was once 
in a way; stiU it was characteristic, and the raider ts cntitLed to it. 

Mr. Cnscnowcr tlien came to Mrs. Maytield and presented her 

ft cIqtc pink from his garden ; be took off his hat with a tluurlsh, 

and said, with an innocent, but somewhat silly playfulness, "Ac- 

'Crpt this, fair lady, in token that some day you wilt accept the 


The gracious lady replied by knockins^the pink out of his hand, 
and saying, "That is how I accept the pair." 

Mr. Casenower coloured very high, and the water catne into hisi 
eyes; but Mrs. Mayficld turned her back on him, and flounced 
into ber own house. When there, she felt she had been harsh, 
and luuljing out of the window, she saw iiour Caseuuwer stniHling, 
dejected on the spot where she had left him ; she saw him stoop' 
and pick up the pink; he eyed it sorron'fully, placed it in his 
bosbm, and tlien moved droapingly away. 

" What a brute I am I " was the Mayfield's first reflection. " I 
hate you!" was tlie second. 

So then, being disconteotcd with herself, she accumulated blt- 
temeas, and in this mood flounced into the garden, fur ahe saw 
Mra. liMhorn there. When she reached her, she found thai her 
cousin was looking at Rachael, who was cutting spinach fur din- 
tfer ; « bile the old corporal, seated at somo little distance, watched 
his granddaughter; and as ho watched her, his dim eye lighted 
every now and then with aflection and intelligence. 

Mrs. Maytield did not look at the picture; all she saw wat' 
Rachucl ; and after a few trivial words, she said to Mrs. Hathoru 
in an under-tonc, hut loud enough to I>e heard by Rachae), " Are 
these two going to live with us altogether?" 

Mrs. Ilathorn did not answer; she coloured and cast a depre- 
cating look at her cousin : Itachael rose from her knees and said 
to Patrick in an undertone, the exact counteri>art of Mrs. May., 
field's I " (Jrandfalhcr, we have been here long enough, come — ^' 
aud she led him into the house. 

There is a dignity in silent unobtrusive sorrow, and some such 
dignity seemed to belong to this village girl, ICachael, and to wait 
upon all she said or did; and this seemed to put everybody in 
tne wrong who did or said anything against her. When she led 
off her grondfalher with those few firm sad words, in the utterance 
of which she betra;j-ed no particle of anger or pique, Itlr^.ttiivWiTn 
fCUt a glance of timid reproach at her cousmj and t\\e Wi^fcM 

1. "i 


tamed paler directly ; but she replied to Mrs. Hatborh's look only 
by a disdainful toss of the head, and not choosing to talk upon 
the subject, she flounced in again and shut herself up in her own 
parlour — there she walked up and down like a little hysna. Pre- 
sently she caught sight of the old farmer, standing like a statue, 
near the very place where Robert had -left him after announcing 
his love for Rachael and his determination to marry no other 
woman. At sight of the farmer, an idea struck Mrs. Mayfield — 
"that Hickman is a liar after all; don't let me be too fiasty in 
believing all this about Robert and that girl. I'll draw the 

" I '11 draw the farmer ! " my refined reader is looking to me to 
explain the lady's phraseology. That which in country parlance 
is called ''drawing," is also an art, oh, pencil! — men that have 
lived thirty or forty years and done business in this wicked world, 
learn to practise it at odd times. Women have not to wait for 
that ; it is born with most of them an instinct, not an art. It 
works thus: you suspect something, but you don't know: you 
catch some one who does know, and you talk to him as if you 
knew all about it. Then, if he is not quite on his guard, he lets 
out what you wanted to know. 

Mrs. Mayfield walked up to Hathom with a great appearance 
of unpremeditated wrath, and said to him, " A fine fool you have 
been making of me, pretending your Robert looked my way, wJien 
he is over head and ears in love with that Rachael ! " 

" Oh ! " cried the farmer, " what the fool has been and told 
you too ! " 

" So it is true, then }" cried the Ma}'field sharply. 

Machiavel, No. 2, saw his mistake too late, and tried to hark 
back. " No ! he is not over head and ears; it is all nonsense and 
folly ; it will pass : you set your back to mine, and we will soon 
bring the ninny to his senses." 

" I back you to force your son my way \" cried Rose in a fury : 
" what do I care for your son or you cither, you old fool ! — let 
him marry his Rachael ! the donkey will find whether your 
mock-modest ones are better or worse than the fi^nk ones — ha ! 

" Rose," cried the farmer, illuminated with sudden hope ; 
" if you know anything against her, you tell me, and I '11 tell 

" No ! " said she, throwing up her nose into the air in a manner 
pretty to behold, " I am no scandal-monger — it is your aflair, not 
mine: let him marry his Rachael, ha! ha! oh !" — and off she 
went laughing with malice and choking with vexation. 

There now remained to insult only Robert and Mrs. Hathorn. 
But the virago was afraid to scold Mrs. Hathorn, who she knew 
would burst out crying at the first hard word, and then she would 
have to beg the poor soul's pardon ; and Robert she could not 
find just then. Poor fellow, at this very moment he was writhing 
under Hickman's insinuations, and tearing his own heart to pieces 
^ his efibrts to tear Rachael from it. 



So tlie Kfayfield rnn up sCnirs to her own hed-room and loclccd 
herself in, for she did not want &ense, and she began tu see und feci 
thnC she was hardly snfe to be about. 

Meantime Rachael had come to take leave of Mrs. Hathorn ; 
tbat good lady remonstrated, but feebly ; she felt that there would 
nerer be peace now till the poor girl was gone; but she insisted 
upon one thing ; the old iiiiiii in his vemk state should not go 
on foot. 

** You are free to go or stay for me, Rachael,'* said she, "but if 
Tou gu, I will not have any barm come to the |>ooro]d man nithin 
ten miles of this door." 

Su to get away, Rachac) consented to take a horse and cart of 
the farmer's, and this is how it came alwut that Hubert found 
Hacliacl lying up her bundle of clothes. Her tcarii fell upon her 
little bundle as she tied it. 


RoBBftrHATHORN'bad fuuiul in Hicltmau's insinuation a natnral 
solution of all tlint had puKzlcd biin in Kachael. She was the 
deserted mistress of a man whom she still loved — acting on this 
lie had apologised to his father, had placed his future fate with 
heart-sick itidifTcrencc in tbat fatlicr's hands, and had desjiaircd of 
the female sex, and resigned all hope of h cart-happiness in this 
world. But all this time Xlachael hud been out of Right. She stood 
now before him in person, and the sight of her, benutiful, retiring, 
submissive, sorrowt'u), smote hia honrt and be»'ddered liis mind. 
r'Looking at her. he could not see the pos.sibility of this creaturej 
liaving ever been Hickman's mistress. He accused iiimself of 
baviDg Wen too hasty ; he would have given worlds to recall the 
words that had made his father so happy, and was even on the 
point of leaving the kitchen to do so ; but on second thoughts he 
determined to try and learn from Rachat;! herself wliether there^ 
was any truth in Hickman's scandal — and if there was, to thinlej 
of her no more. 

" What arc you doinp, Rachael?" 

•* 1 am tying tip my tilings to go, Master Robert." 


** Yes I we have been a burden to your mother some time ; stil 
as I did the M-ork of the house, I thought my grandfather wot 
not be so very much in the vray, but I got a plain hint from MnJ 
Mavticld just now." 

"Confound her!** 

*'No, sir! we are not to forget months of kindness for a moment 
of ill-huniour. So I am going, Mr. Itohert, and now I have only to 
tliaiik you fur all your kindness and civility. ^'^ are very grate- 
ful, and wish we could make a return ; but that is not in our 
power. But grandfather is nn old man near his grave, and he shall 
pray far you by name every night, and so will I ; so then, as wc are 
very poor and have no hopes but from Heaven, it is lo be thought 


ibe AlmigfatT will facao- as and UoB ysD sleeping and waking for 
h t mg lo good to tlie iinAittuuite.'' 

Robert hid bis bet in bis faandi a nHHnent ; ibis ms tbe fint 
tine abe had ercr spoken to liiai so warmly and so sweetlyi 
aad at what a montent of daifc masptaon did these words come to 
fasm. Bobert rpc u reted himself aad said to Rachael, ** Are yon 
■ore that is tbe real cuue of toot tearing ns so sudden ?** 

Sacbael looked perplexed.' "Indeed, I think sa, Mr. Robert 
At least I sbonld not bare pute this Terr day but for that,'' 

" Ah < bat TOO know Teiy well Ton had made up your aiind to 
go before that?" 

*<Of course, I looked to go, some day; we don't belong here, 
gfai idf ftther and 1." 

** That is not it, dther. Rachael, diere is an ill report sprung 
up about you." 

** What is that, sir ?" said Rachael, with apparent coldness. 
" What is it ? How can I look in your face and say anything 
to wound you?" 

''Thank you, Mr. Robert. I am glad there is one that is 
inclined to show me some respect.^ 

** Do something for me in retum, dear Rachael ; tell me your 
story, and 1 11 believe your way of telling it, and not another's ; 
hot if you will tell me nothing, vhat can I do but believe the 
worst, impossible as it seems. Why are you so sorrowful ? Why 
are you so cold, like }" 

** I have nothing to tell you, Mr. Robert ; if any one has 
maligned me, may Heaven forgive them; if you believe them, 
forget me. I am going away. Out of sight, out of mind." 
* ** What! can a girl Hke you, that has won all onr respects, go 
away and leave scandal behind her ? Ko ! stay, and face it out, 
and let us put it down for ever." 

" Why should I trouble myself to do that, sir ?" 
*' Because if you do not, those who love you can love you no 

Rachael sighed, but she wrapped herself in her coldness, and 
replied, ** But I want no one to love me." 

** You don't choose that any one should ever marry you, 

" No, Mr. Robert, I do not." 
"You would not answer Richard Hickman so !" 
" Richard Hickman !" said Rachael, turning pale. 
When she turned pale Robert turned sick. 
" He says as much as that you could not say * No' to him." 
" Richard Hickman speaks of me to you !" cried Rachael, open- 
ing her eyes wildly. Then in a moment she was ice again. 
« Well, I do not speak of him !" 

** Rachael," cried Robert, " what is all this ? For Heaven^s sake, 
be frank with me. Don't make me tear the words out of you so ; 
mve me something to believe, or something to foi^^ve. 1 should 
believe anything you told me : I am afraid I eliotiid forgive any- 
^og .you had done.*' 



** I do not a$1c you to do either. Sir." 

••She will drive mc mad!" cried Robert, franticallv. " Kachael, 
hear me. I love you more than a woman was ever loved before ! 
Yon talk of being grateful to lue. 1 don't itnow why you should, 
hoc you say so. )f yoa are, be generoDs, be merciful! I leave it 
to yoo. Be my wife ! and then, perhaps, you will not lock yoar 
faeart and your story from your husband. 1 cannot believe ill of 
yim. Yon may have been maligned, or you may have been de- 
«nTed, but you cannot be jjuilty. Tliere !" cried he, wildly, " do 
word bat one ! Will you be my wife, Rachael ?" 

Rachael did not answer, nt leiut in words ; she wept silently. 

Robert looked at her despairingly. At last he repeated his pro- 
poMl almost 6ercely, " I ask you, Rachael, Mill you be niy wife ?" 

As he repeated tliis question, who should stand in the doonraf 
but Mn. I^luytield. Hhe wus transfixed, pctri6ed, at these words 
of RtilKTt, but, being a proud woman, her impulse was to with- 
draw instantly, and hear no more. Ere she was out of bearing 
however, R;ichBel replied. 

" Forgive me, Mr. Robert ! I must refuse you I" 

"You refuse to be mv wife!" 

"1 do, Sir !" but slilf she wept. 

Mt». J^tayficld, as she retreated, heard the words, hut did not 
see tbe tears. Kobcrt saw tlie tears, but could not understand 
them. He gave a hasty, despairing gesture, to show Bacliacl tliat 
be had no more to say to hrr, and then he flung himself into a 
chair, and laid bis brow on the table. Rachael ghded Hoftlyaway. 
At the door slie looked buck im Robert with her eyes thick «iih 
tears. She had hardly been gone a minute when Uose Mayfiold 
returned, and came in and sat gently down opposite Uu1>ert, and 
watched bim intently, with a counteunnoe in which the most 
opposite feelings might be seen struggling for the mastery. 


Hobert lifted bis bead, and saw Mrs. Mayficld. He spoke to 
iier ftoUcnly. " So you turn away our sc^^-«Ilts?" 
"Not I," replied Mrs. Mayfield sharply. 
•• It is not wc that send away Uachacl, it is you." 
*■ I tell you no; do you believe that girl before me?** 
•* You atfronted her. What had she ilime to you?" 
•* 1 nnly just asked her, how Inng she meant to stay here, or 
sofnfelUing like Uiat. Hung nie if 1 remeiobcr wh»t 1 said to her! 
They are a bad breed all these girls ; haughty and spitefol ; you can't 
•ay « word, but they snap j-our head off." Mrs. MayficM said no 
more, for at that moment Kachael came into the room with her 
grandfaiher and Mrs. Hatlioni who appeared to be smoothing 
tnattrrs d<iwn. 

*■ \n, Daildy Patrick,'* said she in answer to some observation of 
the old roan's, ''nobody sends you away; you leave us good friends, 
-sod you are going to drink a cup of ale with us before you go." 



A tray wits then brought in nnd a J115 of ale, and Patriclc drank 
his mug of ale slowly; but Uachael ])uL hers to Iicr lips and set it 
down again. 

Then Robert went and sat on the window-scat and there he 
saw them bringing round the waggon ta carry away linchael and 
her grandfather. His heart turned dead-sick within him. He 
looked round for help, and looking round he saw Mrs. Mayfield 
bendine; on him a look in which he sectncd to read »onie cnmpas- 
aion, blended with a good deal of pique. In his despair he appealed 
to her: "There, tliey are reully going; is it fair to send away hke 
that folk that have behaved su well, and were minded to go of 
themselves only mother asked them to star. Bee how that makes 
us look ; and you that were always so kind-hearted, Mrs. Mayfield. 
Hose, dear Rose !,'* 

Mrs. Mayfield did not answer Rybcrt, whose appeal was made to 
her in an undcr-tunu, hut she said to Mrs. Hathorn : "Jane, the 
house is yours ; keep them if it suits you, I am sure it is no busi- 
ue»s of mine." 

"Oh, thank you. Rose," cried Robert j but his thanks were cut 
short hy the voice of the elder Hnthorn, who had just come in 
from the yard. "They are going," said he, " I make no complaint 
against them. Tiicre is no ill-wiU un cither side; but 1 say they 
ought to go, and go they shall." 

** (io they shall!" said the uld corporal with a mystified look. 

The farmer spoke with a firmness and severity, and even withn 
certain dignity, and uU felt he was not tu a mood to be trided with. 
Robert answered humblyj — 

"Father, you are master here; no one gainsays you— but you 
are a just man. If you were to be cruel to the poor and honest, 
you would be sorry for it all your days." 

Before the farmer could answer, Rose Mayfield put in hastily, 

"There, bid tliem stay — you see your son holds to the girl, and 
you will have to marry them one day or other, and so best — that 
will put an end to all the nonsense th^^y talk about the boy and me. 
1 daresay Robert is foni enough t;» tliink I wanted him for myself." 

"I — Sfrs. Mnvfield? — never. — What malccs you fancy that?" 

"And," cried Mrs. Mayfield, as if a sudden light broke in upon 
her, "what are wc all doing here? we can't help folks' hearts. 
— Robert loves her. Are wc to pcrispcutc Robert, an innocent 
lad, that never oQ'ended one of ur, and has been a good son to 
you, and a good friend and hrollicr to ine ever since we could 
walk, I tiiiiik the Devil must have got into my heart, hut I shall 
turn him out, whether he likes, or no. I say he shall iiave the 
girl, old man ; and more than that, I have got a tliuu&and pounds 
loose in Wallingford Bank : they shall have il to stock a farm ; it 
is little enough to give Robert — I owe him more than that for 
Uxmore, let alone years of love and good-will. There now, he is 
going to cry, I suppose. — Bob, don't cry for Heaven's sake; I 
can't abide to see a man cry." 

" It is you make me. Rose, praising me just when cverj-body 
seemeti to tarn ii^'ainst me." 





" Tou are crying yourself, Rose/' whimpered Mrs, Uotiiorn. 

"If I am, I don't feci it," replied Mra. Alnyficld. 

Racliat'l trembled — but she said in her ]o\v tiroi voice, " We are 
goin^ away of our own accord, Mistri^ss .M&ytitld, and we thank 
you kindly for this, and for all — but we are going away." 

'- You don't love Kuhert, then '{" 

"No, Mrs. Mayfield/' said Knchnel, with the air of one con- 
fessing theft or !?acrilege, "I don't love Mr. Robert!" and she 
lowered her eyes with their long lashes, and awaited her sentence. 

" Tell that to the men," replie*! Rose, " you can't draw the wool 
oter a sister's eye, young lady." 

**The young n'oman is the only one among you that has a grain 
of sense ,^' said old Uathorn roughly. "Why don't you let her 
alone — she would thank you for it." 

" Can you read a woman's words, you old ass r " was the con- 
temptuous answer. 

" I am not an ass, young woman," said Hatliorn gravely and 
sternly, and I am in my own house, which you seem to forget — " 
Rose coloured up to the eyes-~" and I am llie master of it, so long 
as it is your pleasure I should be here." 

*' John!" cried Mrs. Mayfield, with a deprecating nir. 

"And I am that young man's father, and it is his duty to listen 
to mc, and mine nut to let him make a fool of liimself. 1 
don't pretend to be so particular as Robert is — used to be, I mean 
^-and 1 was telling him only yesterday, tliat suppose you hare 
kicked over the traces a hit, as you liave never broken your knees, 
least-ways to our knowledge. Rose, it did not much matter/' 

"Thank you, Uadfjy Hatliorn, much obliged to you, 1 am sure." 

'' But there 's reason in roasting of eggs : this one has been oH* 
lite course altogether, and therefore I Nay again, she sIiowa sense 
by going home, and you show no sense hy trying to keep her 

'Father," said Robert, "you go too far; we know nothing 

iiist lUchael, and till I know I wont believe anything." 
U'liy, Bob, 1 thought Hickman had told you nil about it — I 
nndrrstuod him so — ay, and he must too, or why did you come to 

■ me in the yard, and eat humble pie ;" 
" J don't know what you mean by telling me all about it, father; 
be hinted as much us iliat he and Rachel had been too familiar 
ow^ upon a lime." 

" Well I how often lins he told the same lie of a dozen others } 
that is a common trick of Dick Hickman's, to pretend he has been 
thick with a girl, that perhaps docs not know his face from Adam's. 
Father,'! can't believe a known liar's tonsue, against such a face 
■ that." ^ ^ 

%■ " Face as 'JiaC ! it is a comely one, but seems to me it does not 
wok us so very straight in the face just know; and there's more 
than a liar's tongue on t'other side, there 's chapter and verse as the 
caving is." 

'* I don't understand your hintSj and I don't bcUcve tVat ViWV- 

^ hen 


guard's. I am not so old as you^ but I have learned titat tmth 
does not lie in hints.^ 

" I *m older than yo\i, and a woman^s face can^ make me blind 
and deaf to better witnesses." 

" There are no better witnesses I For shame, father! Hickmanii 
no authority with Hathorn." 

"But the I^rish Register is an authority,** said the old man 
sternly, and losing all his patience. 

"The Parish Register!" 

" And if you look at the Parish Register of LongCompton, you 
will find the name of a child she is the mother of and no &Uier 
to show." 


"Ask herself !— you see she doesn't deny it.** 

All eyes turned and fastened upon Rachael; and those who saw 
her at this moment will carry her face and her look to their graves, 
so fearful was the anguish of a high spirit, ground into the dust 
and shame ; her body seemed that moment to be pierced with a 
hundred poisoned arrows. She rose white to her yery lips, and 
stood in the midst of them quivering like an aspen-leaf, her eyes 
preternaturally bright and large, and she took one uncertain step 
forwards, as if to fling herself on the weapons of scorn that seemed 
to hem her in; and she opened her mouth to apeak, but her open 
lips trembled, and trembled, and no sound came. And all the 
hearts round, even the old farmer's, began now to freeze and fear 
at the sight of this wild agony ; and at last, after many efforts, the 
poor soul would have said something, God knows what, but a 
sudden and most unexpected interruption came. Corporal Patrick 
was by her side, nobody saw how, and seizing her nrmly by the 
arm, he forbade her to speak. 

** Silence, girl ! " cried the old soldier fiercely. " I dare yon to 
aay a word to any of them ! " 

Then Rachael turned and clung convulsively to his shoulder, 
and trembled and writhed there in silence. All this while they 
had not observed the old man, cr they would have seen that the 
mist had gradually cleared away from his faculties; his mind, 
brightened by his deep love for Rachael, was keenly awi^e to all 
that concerned her ; and so her old champion stood in a moment 
by her side with scarce a sign left of age or weakness, upright and 
£rm as a tower. 

" Silence, girl ! I dare you to say a word to any of them ! ** 

" TTiere," sobbed Mrs. Hathorn, •* you thou^t the poor old 
man was past understanding, and now you make him drink the 
fitter cup, as well as her." 

" Yea I I must drink my cup too," said old Patrick. " I thoi^ht 
I was going to die soon, and to die in peace ; but 1 Ml live and be 
voung again, if it is but to tell ye, ye are a pack of curs. The Pariah 
Register ! does the Parish Register tell you, the man married her 
vith a wife living in another part ? Is it wrote down along with 
4k0t ebJid*s name in the Parish KegiatCT} han bis &Uwr fieH <m his 



IMS to his mother, a girl of seventeen, and Ijegged for the dear 
hie, she wouldn't take ilie law of him and banish him the country ? 
Whnt was she to think ? could she think, that when his sick wife 
died, he'd reward her for sparing him by flying the country, not to 
do her right? The Parish Register ! You welcome this scoundrel 
to your house, and you hunt his victim out like ft vagahund, ye 
d— — d hypocrites! Cooie, Rachael, let ua crawl awny liome, and 
die in peace.'* 

•* No I no! you mmit not go like that " cried Mrs. Ilathorn, and 
Robert rose, and was coming to take his hand j but he waived hia 
staff furiously orer hts head. 

" Keep aloof, I bid ye all," he cried; **I have fought against 
Buonaparte, and 1 despise small blackguards," — he seized Haclincl 
and drew her to the door: then he came back at them again — 
''Tis n*t guilt you have punished; youjiavejosulted iiinuccnceand 
hard fortune; you have insulted your own mothers, for you hove 
insulted tne, and I fought for tliem before the bc.«t and oldest of 
you was born — no skulking before the enemy, girl" — for Rachscl 
Tras drooping and trembling — "right shoulders forward, mahch!" 
and he almost tore her out of the Iioubc. He was great, and 
tlmndering, and terrible in this moment of fury; he seemed u giant 
and the rest but two-feet high, llis white-hnir streamed, and his 
eyes hiazed defiance and scorn. He was gix'al nnd terrible by his 
passion aitd his age. and his cotifuscd sense of past battles and 
present insult. They followed him out almost on tip-toe. 
lie lifted Rachel into the waggon, placed her carefully on a truss 
of hay in the waggon, and the carter came to the horse's heads, 
and locked to the house to know wlicthcr he was to start now. 

Robert catnc out and went to Rachael's »ide of the waggon^ bat 
she tunied her head away. 

'* Won't you speak to me, RAchael V said Robert. 

Kachael turned her head away, and was silent. 

"Very well," said Ilol>ert quietly, very quietly. 

" Go on," cried old Hathoni. 

The next moment there was n fearful scream from the women, 
and Robert was seen down among the horse's feet, and the carter 
woa forcing them hack, or the waggon would have lieen over him; 
the enrter dragged bim up — he was not hurt, but vcrj- pale; he 
told his mother, who came running to him, that he had felt sud- 
denly faint and had fallen, and he guve a&ickly suide, and bade her 
not l)e frightened, he was better. 

Ruse May&eld was as white as a sliect. 

" Go on,** cried Ute farmer again, and at a word from the carter 
the horses drew the waggon nut nf the yard, and went away down 
kite lane with Raehaol and Patrick. 

They were gone. 


Let tbosr faMcM dir fli^t, 

Ib rvn; kov tkA «^er tbem swiftlj flies ; 

Whose faess aie free and Urong 

As MOW wcB-cvoOed song. 
T^K <^ns 1^ CK- vkh ever freth turprise.. 

T> Wcahk-s An derotee 
To* &st dte mmitma Bee, 
Tiac obmI "^— m' to eoUen iuoes briog ; 
Axi FnKs SAOed child. 

% Giocr'f inam bmUedi, 
To One bs land ■iLBlh woold stay tkf 

ThsT vSa Invr WaragJ to bind 

TW w^zoB aad renins nhid 
la mA conttax >o Fkamic^s nsT car, 

Msj s^ b> hoU tfaee back. 

Aad Ea^ «« the tnc& 
T^u scBifs M ij&v !■ I ■■■111 from a&r. 

Bat by the bean Uiat tons 

To tWMe ociotial b»s 
That «iib Lord's dew for enr oveifiov, 

CDcbemSnl are tbe yean 

No sTnpaifaT endnus. 
When all tb; floven droop bniealfa tbe tnov. 

What bolr spell b tUoe 

To bless a WmHt ^hnne. 
Or vakr glaij whoes «bete no music flowi? 

Wfav to a banvn ihin^ 

Wiih seas«4oss atdor cfiog, 
Orfatdens tiD that oeTcr rield a rose ? 

Yet wbeo deroUon pore 

Bleeds coun^ to endure. 
And ;race to hallow the career of time. 

When for another's jot 

Thy momenu we emptoy. 
Like douds by sunbeams lit, they grow sublime. 

Tbe tender, true and braTe, 

DisdaiD a gift to save 
In wluch self only claims a weary part; 

Nor would thy course delay 

To pamper th«r frail clar. 
And life consume in tricks of soulless art. 

Haste, then, till thou hast brought 

The good so fondly sought. 
And Love's bright harvest richly waves at last I 

Then will I call thee mine. 

And liail thee as divine. 
The present cherish, nor lament the past. 



TuEiu HtsTouY — Past and Pkesent. 


What a crowd of nssociatioDS is produced Ity tlic mention of t!iis 
time-honoured house '. Tlie locality iu wtucti it stands becnnie 
connected vith the drnmn iu tlic time of Slialcspcrc, who may hare 
Tailed the structure then ucwiy reared. The Globe and the Black- 
iriara at that time ^ave an echo tn words destined to be immortal ; 
whilst the noted old tavern in Friday -street liatcncd tn those bril- 
liant "wit combats" between the grout poet and " Itare Ben." 
The Globe, the Blackfriars, and the Mcriuaid hare passed away, 
but Dmr^ Lane has still its theatre. 

Theatrical representations iu this neighbourhood were first given 
at the Cockpit, so called from its having hceii prcrioiisty used as a 
pit for cock-fighting. Tliis building was situated opposite the 
present C.istle Tavern, but was pulled dtiwii by an infuriated mob 
on the 4th of Mhv, ifil7. A ucw thcntru wa» coufilructcd on the 
Hme site, and was aometimcii called the Phoenix, its (rout being 
ornamented with an illustiatiou uf that fabulous bird. In 1609, 
Rhodes, the bookseller — who had been ward robe- keeper to the 
Blackfriars — fitted up the Cockpit (by which name the house 
appears to have been more generally distinguished), and there 
introduced his apprentice Betterton, who immediately gave proof 
of geuuiue merit. At the llcstomtion, patents were granted to 
Darennnt and Killigrew for the formation of two companies— in 
considertttion of services rendered by lliem to the lloyal cause. 
The actors employed by Rhodes enlisted under the banners of 
Davcnant, whilst the remnants of tho old companies joined Killi- 
grew, both parties lieiug sworii-in as servants of the Crown. 
These licences were the origin of the existing putent right of 
Dmry Lane and Covenl Garden. Killigrcw's company was 
known as the *' King's," whilst Dax-cnant's was styled the '* Duke 
of YorkV The former first played at the Red Bull, at tho 
upper end of John-street, Clcrkeuweil, from whence they removed 
to a new-built house in a Tennis-court near Ciarc-mnrkct, and 
Snally sought out the ruins of the Cockpit, upon which they 
erected the first structure known as Drury Lane Theatre. The 
fuUowing ia a copy of the playbill anuouucing its first open- 

" By Ilis 3r[ftjcsty'fl Company of Comedians, 

At the New Theatre in Drury Lane, 

This day, being Thursday, April 8th, 1663, will be 

acted n comrdr called 



LeoDtiae . Major Moliun. 
Lieutenant. Mr. Clause. 
Celia . . Mrs. Marshall. 

The King . Mr. Wintersel. 
Demetrius . Mr. Hart. 
Seleviua . . Mr. Burt. 

The play will begin at Three o'clock exactlj. 

Boxes, 4*.; Pit, Zs. 6d.; Middle Gallery, 1*. 6d.; Upper 
Gallery, 1*." 

It will he seen hy this announcement, that females had been 
introduced upon the stage; and that Michael Mohun, who had 
played at the Cockpit before the civil wars, retained the title he 
had gained whilst fighting in the cause of Royalty. The King's 
company at this time included Theophilus Bird, an actor prior to 
the Restoration, which he did not long survive; Charles Hart and 
Walter Clun, who as boys had played female characters at the 
Blackfriars; John Lacy, the favourite of Charles the Second; 
"William Cartwright and William Wintersel, the first famous in 
Falstaff, and the latter in Master Slender; Edward Kynaston, 
who played female parts even after the introduction of actresses ; 
Nicholas Burt, Robert Shatterell, Mrs. Marshall, Mrs. Hughes, 
&c. The additions subsequently made to this company included 
the then popular comedian " Joe Haines," and the still more cele- 
brated heroine Nell Gwynn. 

This theatre was destroyed by fire on the 11th of January, 1671. 
A collection appears to have been made throughout the kingdom 
for the benefit of those who suffered hy this calamity. No acconnt 
has been preserved of the sum gathered; but a contribution at 
Symonsbury, in Dorset, is recorded in the following extract from 
the register of that place : — 

" Ann. 1673. April 27. Collected by brief for the Theatre 
Royal in London, being burnt, the sura of two shillings. John 
Way, Curate; James Moreyard and George Seal, Church- 

The theatre having been rebuilt, it was again opened to the 
public on the 26th of March, 1674. The rival company, during 
this time, had been playing at the Duke's Theatre, in Lincoln's 
Inn Fields, under the leadership of Betterton. The public voice 
gave preference to the King's company ; but the rivalry of these 
old magnates of the drama — checked for eighteen months by the 
fearful ravages of the plague and the great fire — was brought to a 
close in 1682, when the Duke's forces joined their brethren at 
Drury Lane. 

At the close of the century the two patents had fallen into the 
hands of Rich, the pantomimtst, whose parsimony excited so much 
disgust that Drury Lane was taken from him. Serious disputes 
existed within the theatre at this period, and which were continued 
for years. These disagreements eventually reached to such a 
height that Queen Anne, on the 6th of September, 1709, com- 
manded die house to be closed, and the performances were sus- 
jwnded for some considerable time. After various changes in the 



propnelorsliip ft rovnl licence iras granted, on the IStli of October, 
1714, to Kichard "Sieclc, Robi;rt Wilks, Collcy Cibber, Bwtoa 
BwkUi, and Thomas Doggclt. The name of tlic latter p atcutca 
hu been pu^tuatcd by bis " coat and badge." 

It WM reserved, however, for the advent of Ganick (1742) to 
Attacli to Pniry T.nne its liigbest state of repute nad pro&pptity. 
There were riraU in the field, however, in these its palmy days, 
for tbo Tonngcr Rich, at C*)vent Garden, offered a stmng oppoiu- 
tiou to the Uoscim. In ir.'iO he streutttJiciiwl bis rivnU-y by tlie 
enfiigemeiit of Sprangcr Bam, a tmgedinu, whose ailvcr voice 
lifts assisted to preserve his name. Upon this actjuitiitiou to tbo 
itren^U of Rich the following impromptu appeared: — 

" One grfst Gotialh Gath could bout 

Of Philistinos of yort ; 
But Covciit (jnrdrr's thrvalciiing host 

Bouu oii« <ioliai)t miK«. 
Tflt fear not yc of Dniry Lanr, 

Bv litllc cli«in|iion led ; 
Thctr two Ooliuilts ronm in Tain 

While Datid '» at yout bead." 

fn 17i7Garrick, wit!i the assistance of friends, pnrchnacd fin 
conjunction with Mr. Lacy) the pAlcnt of Drury Lane. On Iho 
dcfltb of hifl copartner, in 1773, this unrivalled nctor bccnnic solo 
toanagw of the theatre, which he conducted until hia final retire- 
ment from the profession, June 10, 177G. A few mouths prior to 
this event he disposed of bin share in the property to Dr. Ford, 
Mr, Ewart, Mr. Liiiley, and Richard Brinjiley Sheridan. The 
bitter gave to this bouse, on the 8tb of May, 1777, his still popu- 
lar comedy of the " School for Scandid." 

Tbe bimrd* of Drury Lane, on the 29th of November, 1775, 
tirst felt tbo trend of the Siddons, who, during her firat season, 
failed to altrsct. She returned to the prorinccs unril October 10, 
1782, when she csoic a accond time and seized \\\H>n celebrity. 
]ler talented brother, John Philip Keiiihle, iras linit seen in Lon- 
don upon the same boartls, on the 30th of September, 1783 ; and 
here, two years later (October 19, 1735,] cntue the inimitabla 
Jordan, a competitor for the applause of the public. 

In 1791, when the theatre had been standing one hundred and 
seventeen years, moderu enterprise led to the supposition that the 
tAA tionsc was too anmll, and the sentence of demolition was 
puicd. Regret must have been felt nt this decision, for it was 
upon that stage thatOarrick and his illustrious compeers bad cou- 
cciiirated their mrs of talent ^ it was in that house that Johnsua 
t]mndered out bis giaut applause; aud tliere, too, Churchill 
^" him who blazed the comet of a senson'* — coUected materials 
for bbi celebrated " Rosciad." On the -Ith of June, 1701, tbo 
bouse 6nally cluscd its doors, the pcrformaucei* on that occasion 
being the "Country Girl," and " No Song no Supper." At the 
close of tlw comedy ilr. Palmer thus addressed the audience: — 

" IiBdics aud OentJemeu^ — Ou the part of ite proiprittlQM, to*,- 



UAgcrs, and performcra, I Imve to express their gratitude for the 
11 nprccc denied support with wliich you liave favoured them during^ 
tlic past season. When next we have tlic honour to appcRr hcfore 
you on this spot ve trust it will be in a theatre better enleulatcd 
for 3'our accomuiodation, aud more desen-iiiu Roval countenaiicej 
niul the patronage of this great metropoHa." 

Upon the final closing of this house (known as " Garriek's," 
and which was about the size of the present liayinarket) the fol- 
lowing pleasaiitrj' appeared :^ 

" On Saturday night, of a gradual derny, and in the hundred and 
seventi:enth year of her age, died old Madame Urury, vho cuisted 
througli six reigns, and saw many gcnenitioiis pass in review hc- 
fore her. She remembered Bctterton in hia declining age — Hrcd 
in intimacy with Wilks, Duuth, aud Cibbcr^ and knew old Mncklin 
when he was a atripling. 

" Uer hospitality exceeded that of the English character, even 
in its early days of festivity, having almost through the whole of 
lier life ('ntcrtainctl from one to two thousand persona of hoth 
aexes six nights out of seven in the week. She was au excellent 
poetees, could he grave and gay by tiimii, and yet sometimes 
(catching the disorder from intrusii'c guests) could be dull enough 
in all conscience. 

" Hur memory was most excellent, anil her singing kept on in 
such a gradual state of improvement that it was allowed her voice 
was better ihe three or four last years of her life than when sho 
was in her prime, at the latter end of the last century. 

" She had a route of uear two thousuud people at her house the 
very night of her death; and the old lady found herself in such 
high spirits that she said she would give them 'No Supper,' with- 
out a ' Sung/ which bi.-iug compUc-d with, she fell geutly back iu 
her chair, and expired without n groan. 

*' Dr. Palmer (one of her family physicians) attended her 
in her last momenta, and announced her dissolution to the com- 

The public were admitted to the new theatre ou the 12th of 
March, 1791, when an oratorio was given ; atid at the tortnliiation 
of I/mt the house regnlarly opened, (April 21), with the play of 
"Macbeth," when, to render the night long memorable, Charles 
Kemble was seen for the iir»t time in Loudon, his introductory 
character being Malcolm. During tho evening an epilogue was 
delivered by Miss Farren, in the cours*- of which a tank of water 
was exhibited, with an iron curtnin, to which was assigned the 
property of exempting the audicnco from harm, in the event of a 
COnflagTAtion : — 

" Tin* hnitMt fire shan't sinf-e a siniile fentbor s 
No ' I usuro our generous bpiicrAClorf. 
Twuuld uuly burn the scenery and tlic actors." 




By Grace Greenwood. 


EaillBtltCH. — HotTBOOD. — MlLROiK. AllBOTf fORP, — DrVSUDOII. NCW- 

CAarLc-uroM-TtiiE. — Vubk. — 'Vaa Mimtek. — Londox. — llAMrrdH Court. 

We reached Etlinburgh in a rahi, which prored to he the be- 
[iuning of the ecjiiinoctial storm, so that, Intuigh we have spenC 
dajs iu tbe grand old town, we hare had but nne day of 

^"tolcnible ireatlior for Hightseeing. On tliat, a friend, who kindly 
nndettuok the office of cicerone, conducted us first to the Castle, 
thiougb ulcasaDt planted groiiuds, wherv not innny ;ears ago wu 
a small loch. AN e fnuud lliu view from tlio raiiipartA tnil^ mag- 

.uificcnt, though obscured somewhat by an envious mist. Looking, 
down, tlic contrast bclwt^eii the dark, quaint, mouldering "old 
town," aud the elegant, cheerful, prosperous new town, is the most 
curioDs and sirikiug of conceivable sights. 

Of all foreign places which I have ever sccn^ Edinburgh wears 

'lo mc tlu: most lamiliar aspect. I joyfully recognize object after 

Iftbject, street after street, as though "to the mnnor born," and 
oiUv iflurued afivr a few yeare of wandeiing or weary exile, t 
needed no giitdu to point out Arthur's Seat, Salisbury Cnigs, St. 
Leonard's, the Grass Market, and tlic Canongato. 

In Uie moKt ancient part of tlio Castle we were shown some 
rude, Htrabre apartments, onco appropriated to ^lary Stuart — the 
one of most historical interest being a small dressing-room) ia 
which Jame* VI. was born. 

On dfscendiuj,' from tim Castle, we visitod some interesting old 
places, among lliem the house in which IJoswell lived when John- 
son visited Kdinburgb, the house of John Knox, aud the Canon- 
gato churchyard, in which reposes the poet Ferguson, bcDcalb a 
lomhsione erected by Burns, and where arc also the graves of 
Adaiu Smith, Dugatd Stcuart, aud Dr. Gregory. 

We went ttiruu^li the Parliameut House, a building of no great 
outward elegance, but containing t^ome magnificent halls. Wt 
unfonnnatcly had not time to cnicr the fine old Caihedral of St.' 
Giles, venerable as the scene of a tumultuous struggle fur the 
efitabliKhtncnt of prelacy iu the time of tlie first Charles, and. 
within whose walls the Rt-geiit Murray and the Marquees of 
Moutrosy were buried. By the way, uo Hf^ht wiiich 1 belield 
that d.\v more starilt-d my heart than that of ihc stone halcuny of 
an old house in the Canongate, from which the brutal Argj-le 
and the shamcJess Gordon bent exulting over and mucking at 
the great Muutrone, on his way to receive his sentence. 
The Tolbootb seemed no stranger lo my eyes^ and B-oAntqcA 
roL. xxxri. -ji^ 


Palace was as near as possible what I looked to see — a building 
Deilher grand nor beautiful in itself, and interesUng alone for its 
tragic aud romantic memories. After visidng the picture gallery, 
which we soon " did " few or none of the portraits being accounted 
^nuine, we were shown through the apartments of Mary and the 
ruins of the ancient abbey. The presence chamber of the unfor- 
tunate queen, though far from being of royal dimensions, richness, 
and splendour, according to modem ideas, mut^t hare been a 
handsome apartment in Mary's time. The roof is of oak, beauti- 
fully carved, and the walls are hung with quaint pictures and rare 
old prints. It is a silent, bare, and desolate room now; yet, as I 
stood there, Tision after vision of royal magnificence, and courtly 
beauty, and splendid festivity passed before me — the shadows of 
ages fled before the gleam of jewels, and the festal lights of gay 
masks and nuptial rejoicings; while the drear silence of long 
sadness and fear was broken by rich music, the regal mstle of 
brocade, the soft voices and pleasant laughter of fair ladies, and 
the galUnt words and light sword clang of noble knights, as they 
went down the dance. Standing in Mary's o«-n private apartment, 
looking at the bed on which her lovely limbs had once reposed, 
and on the mirror which had so often given back the fair reflection 
of her face, affected most powerfully my imagination and my sym- 

fatbies. The miniature which is here shown was nothing to me — 
scarcely gave it a glance, but stood gazing at that faithless glass, 
as though hoping, by the mere force of mj' pasMonate desire, to 
evoke again to its cold surface one warm vision of that rare royal 
beanty and stalely grace it had so often imaged forth in times of 
gladness and grief. The little room in which the queen sat at 
sapper with David Rizzio, on the night of his murder, and the 
private staircase up which the assassins came from the chapel 
be!ow, were next shown us. Here 1 felt little wonder at Marj's 
oath of vengeance, or at her relentless redemption of that oath. 
If the were innocent in the favour shown the Italian, the woman 
was vilely insulted by the black suspicion of the chief murderer, 
her husband; if guilty, the sovereign was outraged and deBed by 
the ferocious deed ; and, proud and passionate as she was, it is 
surely no marvel that she swore to avenge the murder of her 
favourite, by the wild death shrieks which rang through a heart 
which his sweet music had so often soothed, and by his fifty -six 
wounds, whose blood stained for ever the floor of her chamber. 
Standing on the very spot, brought the scene of this frightful 
tragedy and brutal outrage awfully near to the mind, and the 
passions of the time more awfully home to the heart. 

The old Abbey Church is accounted a fine Gothic ruin, but is 
of a very lonely and dreary aspect; the atmosphere seemed to me 
heavy and noisome, and all the shadowy places haunted. 

Our friend next conducted us to Calton Hill, from which we 
had a wide and beautiful view of the entire town and the surround- 
ing country. The clouds having obligingly dispersed for a little 
while, the sight was truly imposing and enchanting. On this hill 
there are several fine monuments — the first, and by far the finest, 



li flM Id Vagdd Slcwart. TUere is one lo Dtirns. iiol ren- Ustc< 
fol or well proporlioutd, auii imother lu PmfL-ssur Ilayfair ; then 
ihtui » the Neloon Towor, iid<1 tht- hcmtifui Lifjjiniiing of tlie 
^'■tiDoal Monument, on tbe moUcl of llic Tanheuvu. 

J had inexprcsRiblL- pleasure in cuntemptatiog the Scolt 3roiiu- 
nt»U in IViDCe iSirccl, which wc ocxt visited. This is a fur, 
CMDplele, UDbWt and Utliiig crecliun. 'ilie st^']o is a gorgroiis 
GamCt &Dd all ihc claburali,- duUil is vxquisilelv nroiiglit ouU 
II wmam to mc adiuirahly in kctpin); uitli Uie cLuracter and 
gHUD« of Seotl — a pure puelic crfatiuii, iii ttie gvacc of iu furm 
«nd iIk delicate buauty of iis ailoniuKjiiiK^ yet magniilccut and 
•talely in its proportions — a proud and princely structure. This 
monotneitt enshrines Cliantrcjr'g nobk- slatuv of ihv poet— ftitting 
grarrrully draped io a plaid, and with his faithful dog at his feet. 
On our walk hoiuu n'e were shovrn the hou»u iu which Scott Uvcd 
far i^TuruI years bc-Jurc he huilt AbbotUord. 

Our »tay iu Kdioburgli being so limited, and the weaLhcr so 
wretchedly uopleasant, I have not atlcinpti>d to see much uf 
society, hare not even de)iv«ix>d the letters 1 broughl, but coo- 
tcntni raywlf with a dinner and an evening at Uio house of Mr. 
Oeorj^o Combe, wiih whom I h-'id a «lif;ht personal acquaintance.^ 
I beiv net some people w1)0Q> 1 felt it a rare good fortune to know. 
First anong til cse 1 trust I may menlion my kind liosu.*8!; herself, 
tbc oaljr sorrifing djughtcr of Mrs. Siddons, and strikingly Uku 

' 3irr nobia and bcautifnl utoiher. It was, absohildy startling to 

^glance from the splendid portraits, by LauTence, of the tnimot 

tne, which adoi-nvd the w^U, to her living, speaking, 
uling picture in our midst. 
Mr. Combe seonis to retain vivid nnd pleasant rccolleclions 

[)ns visit to the Ihiitcd Sut«;'i, and to futtiifnlly cherish his trana- 

Ltlanlic friendships; and, what is more, he kee|>8 his earl; culhu- 

■Biaam for, and gcnemn.'i interest in, all qucsLions of true rcTana 

I And noble proKrcss. Amonf; other agreeable gueots whom I met 
at Air. Combers table was Mrs. Stirling, a Scotch authoress 
eplebrity, and a very channing woman, and Mr. Uobcrt Chamber^* 
who aiitonished me at first, by being a younger man, by some 
tveniy years, than 1 had expected to see, and charmed me after- 
Wards hr the kindly affability, fine humnur, and generous feeling 
which marked bis manner and conversation. 

I Imve Edinburgh with painful reluctance, a fueling of rehelliotisl 
di^appoinuncnt at having misled so many uf its noble sights. Of' 
ill the cities of the world, it has lung b«cn the one which [ havo 

•fcgardud with the most intense iuterei^t, and most eagerly desired 
lo visit. The dark struggles of early Scottish history — the long, 
iierce battle storms, lit by brief splendours of heruism — the pouip 
of feudal pow^r and old royal pageants— holy niarlyrdonis fur, 
freedom and for God — Mary Stuart's proud, sad, and tcmpcstuouai 
— t!ie romaii''e of Scolt, llic poetry of Bums — all have con- 
Lo give to this place a charm for my heart aud a power oier] 
■y imagiiuilioa pcctifiar and pre eaiinent. Thus it is only by a 
effort Uiat 1 tore myself avay, pledging m)&(t\C vAinuu\) 



to mj own heart to retuni at Bome "more conrenient season," 
lome golden, future day. 

Bladcheath Pork, London, October 15. 

The morning of our leaving Edinburgh, though far from bril- 
liant, was not stormy, or chill, and we were sincerely thanliful for 
a cessation in the pelting rain which had made " auld Reekie," with 
all her modem beauties, so thoroughly dismal for the days of our 
visitation. We slopped at the Melrose station, and, taking a 
carriage, drove over to Abbotsford, some three miles. The coun- 
try, though exceedingly pleasant, did not strike us as remarkably 
picturesque; and before we dreamed of such a thing, we were at 
Abbotsford, which lies low, on the banks of the Tweed, hidden 
from the road by a thick plantation. The grounds are very beaa- 
tiful, and have, need I sar, a peculiar mournful charm in all their 
lovely lights and shades of greenery, from the recollection that he, 
the immortal master, planned and planted, and found his purest, 
richest pleasure in adorning them. 

The house itself is a superb, baronial-looking residence, strik- 
ingly picturesque in effect, and wonderfully in keeping with the 
mind and taste of the noble builder. It is one of the most natural 
productions of his genius. You could almost fancy it in all its 
varied forms of antique beauty, quaint and strange, yet ever grace- 
ful and imposing — his light, enchanting poetry and his glorious 
romance resolred into stone. It is a curious pile — an odd yet not 
inharmonious assemblage of architectural ideas, half religious, half 
feudal, simple yel stately — the charming conceits and bold fancies 
of poetry and the spirit of olden romance, revealed in towers and 
turrets, arches and windows, gables and chimney tops. 

The entrance hall at Abbotsford is not very iarge, but is beauti- 
ful, and tastefully hung with armour, antlers, weapons, and inter- 
esting relics from many lands. But after the guide pointed to a 
glass case, which contained the suit of clothes last worn by Sir 
Walter, I saw nothing beside in this apartment. These brought 
the picture of the grand old man, worn down and broken before 
his time, with wondrous vividness before me, I could see him as 
he tottered about Ins grounds, or sat in the shade of some favourite 
tree, with his faithful Willie Laidlaw — the great soul light in his 
eye dimmed with deepening mists, and liis gigantic genius shrunked 
into a babe's bounded and bewildered capacity. I could see on his 
worn brow the troubled struggle of memory aud thought, in his eyes 
the faint momentary gleaming of the old inspiration ; but by the 
sweet, momful smile of his wan lips, I could see — ah ! nothing 
more, for the real tears which rained from my eyes seemed to hide 
the unreal picture of my fancy. 

In the beautiful little study in which the great novelist wrote 
many of his works, I felt the air surcharged with the living mag- 
netism of his genius. So near he seemed, so strangely recent his 
presence, so inevitable his speedy return, my mind grew bewil- 
dered, and my hear beat hurriedly and half expectantly. My 
very senses obeyed the strong illusion of my excited imagination. 
I looked towards the door by which he used to enter. I listened. 



And spolte low. I dared not approacli liis writing 1a1>Te and sit in 
his cliair, Un fear hti might i>[ir])ri&u me vrlieii lie should come in. 
But, Oh. how soon ]ias&t;d over tny heart the chill mWiniing wave 
of recollection, of reason ! Gone, gonu for wet— dust, dust, these 
twenty years! 

The library, drawing and dining rooms, arc rery elegimt npart- 

ntcuts, comuiaiidiag some chunnitig views. Thvru are seveiul lint) 

I pictures, by foreign artists, collected by Sir Walter; but of more 

tutere»t to me were (lie family portraits. Of these there arc two 

of the poet, taken in hh early boyhood, wonderfully like those 

{minted in his manhood and oht a^^c. 'Ilicrc ib n handsome full- 
mgth likeness of tho last Sir \V;iltor, and several portraits of his 
ftisler Mm. Lockharl, whoso snn is thn prcscjil niasti-r of Abbots- 
furd. or all the w(Ninoii.<i curious mid int'iiiorable in ttio armory, 
of all tlie valuable rc1ic», 1 was most moved by the sight of the 
pistols of Napoleon, Hob Roy's gun, and (he Kword of Monlruse. 
Ilie wet state oC the grass preventing our wandering about tho 

Cnds, wo wen? obliged to rolurn, much sooner than we would 
I chosen, to Melrose. 
Melrose Abbey we wea* disappointed to find In the midst of the 
little towDt DOC far from the railway station ; but we soon forgot 
this unromantic circnmstance when we found ourselves wandeiing 
under its grand pillared arehcs. It is a lolly, extensive ruin, re* 
lainrng mnch of the architectural splendour and sculptural beauty 
«r its timt! nf pride. GIoHouh as it was to tts seen under a dull 

'liky, I could nut conceive of anything inure majestic, more religi- 
Dudv beautiful than '* tair Melrose," viewed " by the polo moou- 


From Melrose we drove to Dry burgh, where the sun made ample 
amends fur all sliortcnmings, by beaming upon us in mellow, 
golden brightness. Dri-burgh Abbey lies tiff the public road, 
within a nobleman's park, dct-ply imbopomed iu noble trees, among 
whirh an) some of the gramlt-st old yews 1 have rvcr seen. It 
must hare been an imposing sinictnre once, of great size, nndi 

'*TiMO architectural beauty; but ii> is now a complete ruin — broken 
CTcrywhere, desolated, and ivy-growu — the most mournful, Imiely 
and solemu place I ever bclicld. Yet is the spot lovely with a 
calm, still, religious loveliness. Hie deep silence here is not 
drear and awful, but reverential, prayerful; ihe lunuiineSH is n< 
sad or oppressive; you f<-el that the prrsrnt familiar world is onl] 
•hut out; that the far, strange past may be brought near; and that 
Uie presence of Him who is '' from everlasting to CAorlasting " may 
bo more deeply felt. 

Oh. of all places in the wide world, this suroly is the one mosii 
meet for the last long rest of a pnet, who. in ihu midst of his glory, 
had suffered audsonowed deeply. As 1 stood by the tomb of Scott. 
I felt that it was well he should slumber then*, wliere the moss and 
ivy creep over the mouldering wall, and tliu winds sigh through 
the broken arches and sweep down the desolate aisles. Had he 
died in his Imppy and glorious days, in all the rigour and tpleudour 
of bia powers, 1 would bare said, let him Ue in a gorgcovu mausA- 



leum in ftome stately minster, in ihe henrt of a greal town. But 
lie shraok wearily away froui the uoilU in his last days ; so hliould 
llismTebe lonely. With his noble intellect iu ruins, and the 
sfatdow of deep sorrow on bia spirit, be felt asleep. So should he 
Test among the rains where the ancient shadons lie. 

At Melrose my firiend Mr. N was obliged Id leave na, and 

from thence Miss N and myself puraued our way towards 

London in the interesting character of " unprotecled females,'' 
We spent the first nipht at Newcastle-upon-'l'yne. On entering 
the Iowa, in ihe e^eninKi I bail been much strucl: by a brief riew 
of s sombre old castle, which towered over the railway, — built, the 
guard inld as, in ihe time of William the Conqueror, — and imme- 
diately after supper, as the ni^ht was clear, I proposed to my (rieiul 
a visit to an object of so much interest. J'he dislance was trithnfi, 
and our kind landlady gave us very can-fid directions, yet as 
the streets were crooked and no! very brilliantly lighted, we were 
obliged to arrest several errand girls in mid career, and press them 
into OUT service, as piuidcs, before we attained to the lonely dark 
square, surrounding on three sides the massive and venerable old 
strnn^^hold. Under a pali% uncertain uioonli)i;lit, in that shadowy 
spot, the effect was awfully f^and. The height of the great tower 
seemed Ktnpcndcus — certainly not less than five hundred feet. 

After this bit of romance and grandeur hunting, wc took a fancy 
Id see something of the better and business part of ibe town. For 
this pur|)05e we captured a small boy and were by him safely piloted 
down swift Satnrciay-ni'^ht tides, anil amid cross currents ol hurry- 
ing people, through SL-ieral handsome streets, and past innumera- 
ble Ituipling sliops. Our ostensible olject >v;ts to obutiu a print of 
the old castle whose black shadows yet linunted us. 

On the following day, as we were leaving at a Tcry early boor 
for York, we were astonished, and a liUle taken ab^ck, to find 
that the morning light had battered down that mighty tower to 
about a thin) of the altitude which had so im{)Oscd upon us under 
the wail, Weird light of a mistv moon. 

I ni mediately on breaklasting at York, we went up to the Minster 
to attend morning wrvice. At fifiil T was awed and bewildered by 
the vai^t bcight and extent, the unimagined grandeur, of this 
edifice, this ** mountain of architecture," iind felt glad to sniaeo 
my oppressed senses within thr beanlifn! choir, listening to the 
divine music of the organ and the The other ceremonials 
of the service were tiifliiig to me, the disconrsc which followed 
nolJiing. I had no patience with the man for his wejik sermon- 
izing. Ft seemed to me an iuipertiueuce, a y>iece of unpardonable 
presiimpUon, for any man to preach iu ihia solemn, majestic 
temple, tit alone for music and prayer. 

After nerrice, we long wandered through and aroimd the Min- 
ster, striving to familiarize ourselves to its cncecding grandeur. 
Oh for n mastery of vivid thought, for a wealth ofpicturinji words^ 
Ibnl I mii;ht give a clear idea of the greatness and luaguificeuce 
of this woadroos structure ! But a stray bird, fluttering btrwiU 
ifered amoag its g'gaD^c columns and richly-wrought arches, were 


scarcptytewcmpiiMe or n-pcaiing the organ notes swelling there, 
Uian I et wortluly painting the inner or outer glories of its 

A* tlie diij was iKaatifiil, mr frieDct and I look a Ion;; watlc an 
tlM okl wall of the citir, and an outsido ^iirvev of the C;istle, the 
SBO»t ancient ]>>>Ttion of which is so feaiftillr memorable as tho 
aeenc of the sfirih-stmction of fhonsands of besieged and perse- 
cub-ti Jvwa in the dark days of old. After mitini; the ruins of 
J*l. Mary's Abbey, wo retarued to tho Minuter for afternoon service. 
This time ve did not enter the choir, but remained in the nave, 
wnndcring slowly through the aisles, under iho ^lorv of thi> stained 
inuduwi», leaning against thu pillars, aud letting thv futl fluud of 
orf^an music and swelling aniheni sweep over our souls, as it surged 
along the vaulted roof and rolled down the columned distances. 
Music, BTchiteeture, and colouring seeraed to me a beautiful one- 
Bonled trinity there, bo that the sound of the first wo<dd give one 
bliml a tree ideal vision of the nnscen »plendors around him^ and 
tbe «igbt of the two ln«t triumph over the sealed sense of the deaf, 
and tnin^late melody by heiiuty. It seemed, that, cnitid thai grand 
organ hannony and that g)orinn<t 5>inging lake silent shn[)e, and 
pais into risible beauty, — such majei^tic, lofty forms and »uch 
ndianl, rerigious colouring ihey would wear,— or co»l<i those soft 
splrndors and rich glooms fade suddenly from sight into snch 
mellow serajihic strains, they would melt; or if those solemn 
arches and towering columns could di^olvu into sound, in billows 
of such sublime music as rolled from that grand organ, ihcy would 
pour themselves away. 

Nnishe.n! is chfl stmse of antiquity so impressive as in an old 
Minster like this. \» I gazed around me, I thought of tlie royal 
spWndvr, the magnificent array, of the bojuliful Thilippa's aiar- 
nagft procession, which once swept over where 1 now stood ; aud 
of the warlike pomp of the third Richard's coronation, when there 
was n sitktin surge of banuers under these arthe**, aud the clang of 
nmonr and tramp of mailed feet resounded through these aisles. 
I tkot^ht bow gentraliim after gf-neration had wondered and wor- 
Bhipped here — how many centnries of suns had been glorified in 
those gorgeons windows — thn)ngh what cunnlless days had ibu 
fhn-volumcd swell of holy sound been here sucrec<lcd by awo- 
" Btrock ulencc — the ebb and flow of melodious adoration, and how, 
while generation after gcneratiou of mon had bi.'cu swept from the 
earth, kingdoms wasted, dynastifs destroyed, religions nvcrtunied 
— this grand type of human as|>irat yu towards the vaslnvs'* and 
majesty of tlic divine life has endured, in almost its first sacred* 
ness and solemnity— & monument of ancient faith, a towered woj'- 
ship — God's praise in pillared stone. 

I hare been living very quietly, for ibe two weeks ])aRt, in one 
of the most pleasant suburbs of l.ondon. Yel 1 Ti-ar the b4-nutiful 
booiudife which has made nty deepff t happiness in health, and 
tny sweetest consolation in illness, while here, is a poor prepara- 
tion for the strange, exctiablc, restless life of the Continent. 

Omj day lately we spent at IIarn|>tou Coutl^Uftil ^»s»«to% <J\&. 


pabce of Wolser. It was considered a structure of more thau 
ton! magnificence in the time of the haughty prelate, but to 
■Ktdera laste is neither tmlr grand nor highly picturesque. It is 
a dingr, red brick, rambling edifice, or rather a congregation of 
<|Diiint edifices. The gnwd hall is gorgeously beautiful, and 
mmoDg the m-Ititades of piciures are many which it is a rare 
driigh: u> behold. The Cartoons of Raphael are here, and Van- 
dyke's eqae5Xrian picture of the first Charles — the grandest por- 
trait in the worM. Here are the famous Court Beauties of Charles 
II.. by Leiy and Verelst ; pictures too well known through prints, 
and the chjiming cescriptions of Mrs. Jameson, for me to under- 
take t.> rvproiittce by my tctt imperfect sketching. Through all 
llKKse n.^yil> acpointed apartments and lofty galleries there are 
cocntiess be-irt-stirnng pictures of those whose lires have been 
mMec in thie^^ds of ^ver brightness, or guilty blackness, or tra- 
fncal t-cod redeesf, ia:o the spiendid woof of Ecg'ish history. 
The fTVczids aloat Hampton Court and the Park vx the most 
fknious ccv-Z\7>$unfs 1 have seen in England. A riew or a walk 
down tho $:rvdt chestnut avenue would repay one for a pilgrimage; 
autd i'l :hc old trees of ibe immense demesne are mere regally 
hrauiifut than ore can conceive. They seem conscious of their 
royal estate — ctwwned with the gloiy and majesty of ages. 


Tisi* — Tkk Lorv«r. — Tui; M\rrit:NE, — Place de la Cokcorde. — Chapel 
«f St, V« xmxvn?. — Nr-.iiLT. — Hotel pes I.walidbs. — Tomb of Napo- 

<.EiVN,— NotKS i^ASS:. rc&C I.A ClIAI«E. 

Paris, October 22. 
Wk left London on the uiominp of the 20th for Paris, via Folk- 
stono and Houlogno. The day was remarkably fine, and the long- 
drpadovl Chauuel proved as smootii and tranquil as a sheltered 
iuUud lake. Uoulogue is an unpicturesqtie town, backed by a 
flat, tuiinu'ivsiing country. The only distinctively national sights 
at tho laudiuj: were tlie numbers of fierce-looking little soldiers, in 
ugly blue ciKitSi aiul uji'ier pointed hats; and of peasant women 
perforuuiig the work oi porters — bravely shouldering heavy lug- 
gagi'. and" carrjing it on shore iu triumph, to the evident admi- 
ration of thoir iazior halves. 

The oxauiinaliou of our passports at Boulogne was a light affair, 
as wus the exauuuatiou of our luggage at Paris, where we arrived 
by mil, at about 11 oVlock p.m. 
* Kurly on the mominjr of the 21st we all walked to the Louvre, 
wheiv we spent nearly the whole of the day. After all I had heard 
of this magnificent palace, 1 was aEtonished by its vastness and 
splcudour. Its architecture, while elaborate and royally gorgeous, 
is by no moans wanting in imposing grandeur. Some of our party 
enjoyed most the galleries of sculpture; but I revelled among the 
pictures. Think what it was to wan<ler through miles of glorious 
paintings and immortal sutuary ! Raphael and Murillo received 



elscwhew*, nij* Inglipst homage ; hut I tras much iinprcssed 
by the works of Davitl. Their slvlu is distinctively French, hue 
■Qhtimnled French. !□ bis pictures, Napoleon always appears ihc 
triuuiphtmt gi^nius of glory, or the imperial soul of majestic power 
—in action, a hero — iu repose, a god. 

After leaving the Louvre, irc drove lo (lie Church of Ln Made- 
leine, a wondrously beauiiful edifice, in the pure Greek sljlo. It 
has little of religious suleuiiiity in its outward grandeur or iuwurd 
mB£iii<icence; but, as a Lriuuiplial li-nipltt of art, it is the glory 
of modem France. It contains some fvae paintingK and noble 

|As 1 stood on the steps of this church, and looked down lo the 

tee do la Concorde, marked by its toiFcring )''g:\'ptiaii obelisk, 
my soul staggered under the awful thought that tlie»e peaceful 
streets and tlut quiet (square were once one vast surging, raging 
aea of human ferouily — th;it near nhei-e the two ornamented foun- 
tains ore playing in the pleasant sunshine, stood the guillotine, 
spouting blood ! — that tliero had mad yells, and brutal howl^^ and 
low murmurs of infernal satisficlion hailed alike the murder of 
I^ouia, Marie Anloiuetle, the Princess tlizabeth, Charlotte Cor- 
day, and the ju£t puui.<«liniciit of Daiituu, Kubt^spiurro, and their 
fiendish crew. 

AlXcT leaving the %radeleine, we look a delightful survey of the 
Doblp ])alacc and gardens of thu Tuilcries, and a driru tlirough the 
Boulevards, which surpass iu gay and animated beauty all 1 had 

We were content with an oulsiile survey of the gloomy prison of 
the Conciergeric, which frowns with dark memories and the guilt 
uf couuilciis unexpiated crimes. 

Vcuerday we began a golden day, by driving, in tho glory of a 
lovely rooming, through the Champs Elys^es, past Napoleon's 
maKnificent Arc de Triomphu de I'Ktoile, to the beautiful Chapel 
of ^t. Ferdinand, erected U|)on the seme of the death of the late 
Duke of Orleans. Th:> contains an altar lo the Virgin, over n-hich 
i* a fine group of Mary and the child Jesus, and beyond which is 
a Deseetit fnim the Cross, by Tiiqnelti. On Oie left is an altar 
dedicated lo St. Ferdinand, and opposite is a noble and touching 
rtatue of the dying Ftiuce, with a lovely augel figure, sculptured 
by the PrinccsH Marie, at his head, supiK>riing him, and commend- 
ing bis soul to Heaven. Itehiud the central altar is a picture re- 
presenting the »ccne of his deatli, with his family and friends about 
liim. TliC grief iu the boned figure of tlic pour molhcr, hiding 
ber liice in the cushions by his side, is alone deeply affecting. In 
front of the chapel is a building, coutaiuing several apartments 
dntpcd in black, for the accumuioiluiton of the royal family on 
their visits to the mournful spot which was the scunu of an event 
frtal lo llieir fortunes, if not to those of France. 

The room we entered contained two motionless clocks, cased iu 
black marble, one marking the hour and the moment at which tho 
Duko was thrown from his carriage — the other, those at which he 
died. A touching idea, though peculiarly Freuch. 



Fran t!ie scene of the Diike's dcalli, wo passed natnrallj-, 
fliougb folluirtng up the dtsnsters of his (loomed faintly, to the 
ruins of the Palaco of Neuillj-, one of Uie most melancholy of 
si^^hts. This favoiinle summer re&idLMice of Louia Philippe had 
eridently Httlc of the royal and imjM>sing about it, but iras a quiet, 
lorcly, hoinu-like j)lacc, sanctiGed by much of domestic bappiiietw, 
purity, ami siiiipliciiy of life— so is its dcalniction, its desolation, 
the more touching to behold. The objects of most interest in the 
grounds are a uionumeot erected ou the spot where a cannon l>ull> 
fired from the Bois de Boulogne, fell ai the feet of Louis i'hilippe 
in 1830, and where a few days after the crown of France was- 
offered him; the tomb of Di&na of Poiticn; and the garden of die 
yonng Comte de Paris. 

From Nenitly we (Irnre thrmiffh the Bois de Boulogne to the 
Chamijs de Mars, ou which graoil parade ground we were so for- 
ttmatc as to witness a fine display of cavalry and flying artiller)'. 
From the night of all the animated pomp of mimic war we went to 
the Hotel des Inralides, to behold what real war makes of men, in 
the maimed, crippled, and scarred Kohliers of the empire. Hot 
these brave old fighters hare a noble retreat for their declining 
years, and seem hale, hearty, and happy, as they Mt and talk too- 
ther on the terrace in ihe genial sunshine, stroll tliroogh the fine 
arcades, or reverently lineel in the chapel. 

In the council chamber of the hotel we saw a noble bust of Na- 
poleon Ic fJrand, by Koeio, and one doubly ignoble by comparison 
of Napoleon le Petit, by Emilc Thomas. Opposite those liangs 
the majifiiificent portrait of Napoleon, in his comnalion robes. 
Our guide, who was an old soldier, and a devout worshij'per of the 
imuiortal Corsicauj spoko of Louis Napoleon, as his ** future Kra- 
pcror," with apparent pleasure, almost enthusiasm. By the way, 
tlie Priuce President displays most strikingly his keen and woridly 
wiadimi. in repairing and adding to the pnlaccs and churches of 
Paris, and ingorously carrying on all jiopidar public works — thus, 
while improving and beautifying the city, employing thousands of 
workmen and artists, who are, of course, kept out of all muHchief. 
ITierc is nothing so good as bread to stop the mouths of the poli- 
tically disaffected; and the true secret of this Napoleon's popu- 
larity, next to that sublimity of impudence which takes the French 
like an astounding eonp <U thidtre, lies in the enconragemcnt of 
labour, and the security lo trade, given by his government — lliat 
is, hinierlf. But to return. In the large and handsome library 
founded by Napoleon, we saw the famous picture of the Kmperor 
crossing Sfount St. Bernard, by David, 1 believe, in which he is 
Tery sublimely represented as dashing up an awful steep on a fiery, 
rearing steed, in a magniticcnt costunte, and a most dramatic atti- 
tude — a painting full of eclat, but in true grandeur falling fur 
behind the real picture of ihe real Napoleon, in his gray siiitout» 
quietly ascending the mountain pass on a mule, led by an Alpiuc 

Wo were allowed to enter the dome, where the nation is paying 
alwoft tiiv'we honours to the ashes of the Emperor, by giiing htm 





Doe of tbe gmodeM burial-places and monuTncnU wbicfa glorr and 
poelTV coulil ih'vise, anil art, power, and wealtli could exprule. It 
IS nol alone a gorgeous icinplu for the intiniflcent olferin);!! of the 
nation to thv maae» v( lier dead glorv, but a vast chapelU- expia- 
toUe tar the world who irapiotisly n;belled Against, and finally 
rcj<-clcd, bis msjesly of in8Jc»tie«. When this tontb, with all its 
grand Kurroundiiigs shall be IJuisbed, in uiust imperial r^pk-udour 
and triumphal pomp will he rest who died in h<>)H'U-ss cxilc^ 
and reposed for so muny years *' on a lone, baiTcn rock,'' in the 
Jar sea*. 

Ilere, for the resounding beat of wares on that drear shore, 
will be the billowy swell an<l majeHlic roll of grand oT^nn music ; 
aod for tho wild wailing of the ocean winds, ihe roiglity sorrow 
and lolema suppUcaUoD of countless masses said for the re^xne 
of his soul. 

From the Hotel des Invaliiles we went to the Lnxeoibourg, a 
noble and beautiful palace, though far fimaller than the Louvn;. I 
will Qol attempt to dpscribc it. Imagine an edifice very magnifi- 
cent and princely outwardly — very grand, lofty, and uncunifortable, 
inwardly. 1 thought the Salle t\vn Sranci-H fiir aiirpassing in 
beauty and dignity the English Chamber of Peers; and some of 
the modem French pictures in the gallery are, to my apprehension, 
iluer tlian many by the old masters in the Louvre. 1 was espe* 
cially delighted with one or two by Paul Uelaroche. 

Frota the Luxeiubourg to Notre Dame, which interiorly scarcely 
answered my expectations. Its whiteness and lightness, on that 
brilliant ilay, triok much from its vnstness and grandeur. Yet it is 
a ni>blc oltl c«, and little needs llu> added grace of coiinllexs 
glohoua as.<^ociaticns — chief among which must lire for ever the 
OMonation of Napoleon and Jo6c))hine. 

From Notre Dame to the Hotel de Cluny, a picturesque ohl 
inansiuii, budt on the spot, or near the K|)ot, where once stood tbo 
palace of the Kni{>eror Julian, and of Koine of the enrlicKt kings 
of Gaul. There are yet to be seen &»h»c curious Roman aqoe- 
docts, dungeons, anil subterranean paf£a^es. The hoti^'C itself 
now contains an imtnensc and choice collection of antiquities, 
curious manuscriptii, iniiTdra, pictures, slatuar\-, carving, cabinets, 
■HDiatiites, cbina furniture — all imaginable intereslitig and bean- 
ttful relics. There is one ma£ni<'>cent inlaid cabinet, once belong- 
tBj; to Louis Xl\^, which, opening, di-iplays some exquisite paint- 
iai§i on itory, nhich niodem ait could nol excel; and there are 
JaBBBCSBblQ objects of historic or romantic iuti:!re!^t, making tho 
shftcknry old chateau altogether one of the most charming sights 
of Pais. 

Teplerday being very atormr, T conld only spend a shori time 
at the Louvre, and visit the mannfinclury of the Oobelin Tapestry, 
Vbcre 1 was astonished and delighted bv beautiful specimens 
of this splendid fabric, and by observing tJic wondroua art, can;, 
■nd patience by which they are produced. 

To-day we have risiied Pero la Chaise, iaVen n %Vi<^ *\a 


the f^ardens of the Tuileries, and attended service at the Ma- 

It was a lovely morning for the cemetery ; the air had the soft, 
golden suuniness of Indian summer, and a sweet south wind was 
vooing, rather than tearing, the withered leaves from the trees 
along our paths. Beautiful emblems of death, they fluttered down 
in showers of cnmson, and gold, and bronze, upon chapel and 
tomb, and draped the humblest grave with a gorgeous pall. Pore 
la Chaise, though more crowded, and with less natural beauty, 
than some of our cemeteries, is a cheerful and lovely city of the 
dead, and has a glory and a sacredness which none of ours yet 
possess, from enshrining the ashes, the all that could die, of maily 
vhose memories live in immortalities of love, and power, and 
sorrow, beating on for ever in the life currents of the heart of the 

The first tomb to which we were conducted was that of Abelard 
and Heloise. This is a large, imposing monument — a small 
chapel, in the Saxon style, beautifully sculptured, built over the 
original sarcophagus of the immortal lovers, surmounted by their 
recumbent statues. Their figures have a dignified, sorrowful 
grace, and their faces a mournful beauty, which would touch and 
trouble one to whom their history were unknown. It is little con- 
solation, to one remembering the long agony of their severed lives 
to read on this tomb that here, in death, Uiey are reunited — to 
linow that the eyes forbidden to look devotion and tenderness, and 
condemned to watching and tears, are here quenched in the same 
darkness — that the love-warm lips, once torn asunder, now meet, 
"dust to dust" — that the ardent and faithful hearts, which bled 
apart with one anguish, now mingle "ashes to ashes." 

It was with a shock of strange emotion that I found myself 
standing by tlic unmarked grave of Marshal Ney. A shiver ran 
through my frame, and my heart seemed for the moment motion- 
less with soiTowful awe. There is here no monument, no chapel, 
no'cross — only a railing and a few flowers about the grave. There 
was one crimsou rose beside it, which I could but dream had 
dnuvn its deep colouring from his rich heroic blood. 

At almost every step we came upon the resting-place of a great 
novelist or poet, a warrior, a pliilosopher, an orator, or a grand 
troKt'diau : Balzac, MoliC're, La Fontaine, Madame Cottin, De 
Grnlis, Bcruardin St. Pierre, Belavin ; St. Cyr, Macdonald, 
Suchct, Janot, Gobert; Laplace, Sicard, Constant; De Size, 
Munuul, i'oy; Mars, Duchesuois, Talma. The tomb of Bellini 
is olso hero, and those of several other celebrated composers. 

As though strongly to contrast the shadowy solemnity and 
Tclifrious quiet of death with all the brightness, flush, and plory 
of life, wc drove from Pero la Chaise to the gardens of the Tuile- 
ricBi where we strolled fur nearly an hour. I never beheld, nor 
do 1 believe the world could furnish, a more charming and splen- 
did sight. 




" Place your Toot here— here, tale tliis staff and cling 
A mnmrnc to (hat stiruh — now f}vc mc vonr hacKl, 
Atid hold f<ist by my girdle — softly — «ell^ 
The cbaJet uill br izaincd witliin 4in hour. 
Cone DB. wc 'II quickly find a sumr fcitiung. 
* And HOtnrtliiiig like n palhwity, which the Uirreiit 

Hmh markMl since winter time — 't is bravely doDC— . 
You should hiiTe beeu a hunter." — MANrKSi). 

I AM not Ji trnTclter, I huve no d&sire to be considered one— I 
am not qualified for election .it the highly respectable club where 
TraTclleni do congregate — 1 have no right to wenr n beard ; still 
hnring from time to time made eiccursion* over rnrious parts of 
tbc globe, more or less remote from Saiut Paul's Churcli Ynnl, 
nnd huving performed no inconsiderable portions of such waiidcr- 
iu^ oa foot, I have Itecome & sort of authority in the eyes of a 
uumber of young gentlemen vho cither are ahoat to commence 
touring on their own account, or who have friends whom '*thcy 
take tho liberty of iutroduciug to one so ncU able to give advice," 
&c. Sometimes not advice only, but a knnp!jack or » wntcrproof 
cape happens to be needed ; once I va% n&kcd for my boot-i ! Notr, 
ia ro^)cct of the first of these valuablcK 1 am not illihemlly disposed, 
nnd it has occurred lo mo that hy inirescncdiy piiblishing tho 
pftrticuUra of a recent pedestrian stroll, I may be Aaviog ccrUiin of 
my acquaintancos the ankvardness of "begging a few minutes' 
mnrenation," and of extending tho benefit of my experience, suck 
as it is, to those who have not " the pleasure of knowing" mc. 

From a pcrtton ivho Iids spent the best part of three weeks iu the 
highlands, there will, at the Icaftt, be expected a discusMon of tho 
WTf ioteresting " Scottish Grievauccs ;" some observations on the 
Uira, especially that of entail, prevailing iutlic country; agoological 
fekctch or so, with a criticism on the late revival of Macbeth, and 
an iaquir}' into the genuineness of the poems of Ossinu, together 
wilh quite an oripniil theory of some sort, upon some subject, ith 
some wny connected with the laud in question. Upon all these 
points I am quite prepared and " well up," but at present 1 re- 
strain myself, and am content to be neither historical, nor philo- 
sophical, nor statistical, nor etbnolo^enl, nor anything else that is 
deep, but hope hy simply jotting down certain prnctieal matters, 
to give encouragement to the distruHfut tyro, and to promote n 
Tuotle of spending the holidays vcr}- healthful both to mind and 

In the ofHcc in which I have the honour of occupying a coa- 
spicuout scat, it HO happens that both the head of the department 
and his chief clerk arc gentlemcu of a spoiling turn, the former. 

U9 XB. nxBT^ TBrr to skte. 

mtearainssT, ikooa praaae in Aagnt, Oe Utter shoots partridges ia 
Scpcemii«T, » tk«t tk period far liiKnce pennitted to juniors is 
coapriKd vkkui the ■onriu of Jime and Ji^y. It was towards the 
cad of hat Jme, thro, that I deficrained to start upon a long-me- 
Jifatrd escnraoB to tkc Boctk of Scodand. I had entertained some 
Aoo^ts of trrin^ Wales or tbe I^ikes, they were more accessible 
and rajinred leas time : bv: oChiCT oomidcnitions apart, one main 
■diaata^ to be derired from jiaaing any spot or diatnct is the 
dbtlDcCiiess with which the inddcnta therewith omiiected is pre- 
aented to the mind ; now nobedr hean modi of Comberhmd and 
Wutmorelaod, and thor t% p o d tite l y , no sach tbin^ as Welsh 
historr — theie is not even a XTdsh grienmce 1 — few events of 
gcnerai iaterest are avodatcd with thesis localities. 

The case is tcxt differ^ with Sootland ; there, monntaias aod 
lodu, dans, castles, battle£dds are ** familiar in our mouths as 
ho QKh cJd wwda." A mssa of infimnatioo, r*gue and ill-managed 
cwM^. bat coB ttp ra i ng the gre^ features in tbe history of the 
sister kingdom, is somehow or other acenmnlated by most persons. 
STdThodr knows something of Mary Qnem of Scots, of Wallace 
and the Brace ; has heard at sereral monardu of the name of 
James; has read of Flodden Field and Bannockbum, to say 
nothing of the Pretender, Rob Boy, and Roderie Dha ; and it is 
qnite surprising what an order is given to events, what an indivi- 
doality to persons, by moviag among the scenes associated with 
their fame. ** Seeing is believing,** so runs the jwoverb, and I am 
Tcry much inclined to contend for the converse of the proposition, 
—not seeing is not believing — for my own part, Idon't pretend to 
have believed in the murder of the B^ent Murray, or in the 
nctories of Montrckse till last July. | 

The field for operations being thos chosen, I met with Uttle dif- 
ficulty except in two qaarters — my bootmaker and Mrs Fixby! 
Mrs. Fixby is an excellent woman, ''above the middle height," and 
rather resolute in disposition. 

** I have no idea," said she abruptly, on my cautiously opening 
the subject at breakfast, ** I have no idea of men running abroad 
after their own pleasures and leaving their wives at home — take 
me with you.** 

•' But, my dear, the money." 

** Money, nonsense 1 take your wife and stay a fortnight instead 
of a mouth.** 

I endeavoured to explain, T am afraid without success, that the 
addition of a lady on these occasions does not double, but quadru- 
ple the expense. 

" Never mind ! if you go, I go too,'* persisted my affectionate 

"But the — ,** here I dropped my voice; it was enough, that 
whispered monosyllable proved the most potent oratory. Mrs. F. 
"abhors animals,'* and what graver representations might have 
failed to bring about, this allusion to the real caterans of the north 
effected forthwith. A well-timed hint respecting the possible 
purchase of a genuine plaid shawl clenched the ailment. 



I was frc«, unlcKMcd, turned out for a sum mer'e run, as the cliief 
clerk wna pleased tu cxprcm it. The cailifT ItouUnakcr was not so 
casilr denlt with; and bcrc arises the need of a most »o]cmn cau- 
Uou to the incipericuced ; irhatt'vcr be vour weak point, be strong 
in boots! Boots form the first rciioisitc, the secondhand the thit^l 
Denio»thene« vouM bare proclainicd it, had he been a pe-defltrian ; 
HoEuer was uiidoubtcdlv awake to the fact. Your hat is blown 
off and rou btiy, or burniw, another; your dismembered coat may 
be rrplaccd at the next village; you may go without — that is to 
MV, Tou may adopt the kilt, but woe tu the tourist who neglects 
the noblest boon tlint art Iiaa bcxtowcjl upon nature — boots ! And 
do not KUppose that you can witlk flippantly into ft " mart" aud be 
supplied with a pair of "ready-madu at sixtoun shillings." On 
the rcTy first day of trial, the sjiongy counterfeits will betray tltcir 
trust, nod next morning will appear shruukeu and suleleso before 
their diKinarcd proprietor. l''or niy own part, being provided with 
aundry models npproncliing as near perfection as tinblunary shoe* 
craft can attain, 1 bad recourse to a young aud tractable snob — 
tbe term is used advisedly — whose materials might be relied on, 
and cvattually vas put into possession of a pair of " high-lows," 
nhich though somewhat too short, m fault to be fully Appre- 
ciated on descending a mountain, were upon tbe whole auflicieutlr 
adapted to the purpose. The remainder of my kit cotisisling of 
three pnirs of woollcu socks, three merino shirts, " tbe ouly wear" 
for walking, a spare pair of trousers of tbe couBiatcucy recom- 
mended by tbe poet, aud a pair of light shoes or slippers, together 
viih a few minor articles^ weighing in all about eight pounds, were 
arranged compactly in my knapsack, to the top of which was 
strapped a thiu but roomy waterproof coat. 

The only mattt^m of per]ilexity now wcre^ to ohtnin a good map 
and guide book; and, strange as it may appear, such aids to the 
explorer of the Highlands are to this day desiderata. Here is a 
real Scottish grictancc ! " Guides/' indcod> there arc divers — th« 
two best being Black's and Anderson's; of these, however, tho 
former professes to give the wbolo of Scotland, and is adapted fur 
the most part to the tastca and requirements of " carrinj;c-fiilk;" 
while the latter, though devoted to tbe Higblunds, i<i so enmbrous 
in aiso and disjiicatcd in arrangement, as to prove a perpetual 
aonrcc of irritation. Both arc costly. There is, surely, good op< 
portonity for the publication of a cheap and portable volume, to 
oe warranted free from woodcuts and ixiracts from tlic " Lady of 
tbe I^akc,*' and compiled expre&sly fur the use of that dcK-rving 
clas» which, like Genu* el tyeciei^ cogitur trepedet. I'he best map 
is a four-and-si\|ienny one of Ulack's^ hut it is xery dericient, and 
gives but few of tlic mountain paths. After due dclitjeration, it 
was determined to take the mnp and reject the book ; a much, 
belter plan would have been to have disnicmUcred the liittcr, cut- 
tiii;: it up ruthlessly as it deserves, aud pocketing the more valuable 

Thus provided and accoutred, wc~-foT gentle reader 1 had & 
friend, a pure tourist, of whom more auou— we took our pbcas 


one TTedneaday evemn^, at aboat 9 r. v., in a tliird-clasB carriage, 
boaud for Edinbro*. It maj be rigfat to mention, that by tbe then 
exiating arrangement, the opportunity of travelliug four hundred 
miles for thir^ shillings, was afforded only twice in the week, on 
tbe Wednesday and Saturday, and was owing to a laudable desire on 
tiie part of the company to compete with the Leith steamboat 
which ran in those days. And let not the reader start at the men- 
tion of a third-class carriage ; if, indeed, he happens to be what 
my nephew — an Oxford man, and an amusing youth — terms a 
** real swell," one with whom " money is no object," why let him 
pay down his fire sovereigns incontinently, purchase the last num- 
ber of " the Quarterly," and doze away the fifteen hours in luxury. 
But if his means and notions do not entirely agree hereio, let him 
not despise the prorision which his country has made for his loco- 
motion ; let him bear in mind that it is by no means necessary for 
a young gentleman of two or three hundred a year to travel with 
the state of an Archdeacon ; and further, let htm observe that the 
carriage to which I invite him is attached to the mail traiu, so that 
the pace is good ; that as respects comfort, the means aod appli- 
ances are identical with those of the ordinary second class ; and, 
lastly, that the company is much above the average of that which 
nsnally is to be met with in these compartments. 

Besides, there is a great deal to be said in favour of the third 
class. If, indeed, a man tells you that be adopts it for the fun of 
the thing, or in order to see life, or because he prefers it to the 
first, dou't believe him ; be is a humbug, a humbug trying to hide 
his poverty or liis meanness. This sort of thing was all very well 
in the old coaching times; an honourable gentleman might then 
take the cheaper place by preference, and esteem himself fortunate 
in the possession of tbe box seat. But there is nothing iutriusi- 
cally pleasant in hard benches, crowded carriages, and uuglazed win- 
dows; these drawbacks, however, are in a great manner counter- 
balanced by the humour and liveliness of the company, and by a 
certain natural politeness which you are not so sure of encounter- 
ing in higher circles. So far as my limited experience goes, the 
society iu the " first class" appears rather dull tlian otherwise. Pas- 
sengers come provided with ponderous magazines, and there is 
commonly seated iu one corner a gentleman with short black hair, 
sallow complexion, and white cravat fastened in an occult manner, 
and permitted just to peep above a rigid black waistcoat ; he is 
probably deep in a work of Mr. Ruskin's, and is found altogether 
to shed around a chilUng and chat-restraining influence. Besides, 
whetber it is that the more a man pays, the more selfish he be- 
comes, there is not, I fear, that readiness to oblige others and to 
submit to trifling inconvenience for their accommodation, to be 
met with at the hands of the first-class viator, which is cheerfully 
accorded by his less elegant neighbour. 

It is a mistake, of this I am convinced, to consider the lower 
orders of the British an impolite people. Polished in manner 
they may not be, but in the exercise of that benevolence in trifles, 
la which true politeness is defined to consist, they have nothing to 



tear from n cnniii»ri.HO» with any natiun, roiitincntal or trans- 
Sllantic A third-rlass American incommodes and insults you; it 
Treucbman, with the utmost possible grace and a profusion of' 
court4.'OU3 gesture^*), avoid? submitting to the leant hardship, though 
a woman he suffering at htit side. An Englishman is ever ready 
vnth liis assistRDce iu a. difficulty, gives it with n hearty good 
homonr, cracks hU joku, such as it is, and strives to put his 
lurighlKiur at lii" case. 

1 remember witncssiug a most characteristic instance of French 
politeness about a year ago in Paris. The weather was fine, and 
the Boulerards crowded, when a sudden shower put the promc- 
nndcrs to the rout ; for myself, taking refuge in the entmnce of one 
of the numerous " piusaiira," I looked on, not entirely without 
amiweinent, at the geutTiil discomtiture. Aa unhappy girl, how- 
ever, soon caught my eye ; she was standing on tiptoe by the edge 
of the pavement — a small parasol, sole defeneo against the rain, 
vas in one hand, with the other she gathered her drippiug gar-*^ 
incuts around her; on the opposite side of the road stood a hack*{ 
my carrinnc; she hailed it. Francois, OT Hippolyte, or whatei 
.J^ooKeor the drirer'a name might be, ackuo\ti{;dged t]ic summoi 
I by graoefuUy raising his hnt, he then in a very sell'-pussessed ' 
,nianner, slipped hia bearing rein, gave his horse h&lf a bucket of 
jirater and carefully threw the remainder over the nnimal's fore- 
leg*; he next proceeded, with equal deliberation, to arrange the 
[cloths and cushious of his box. This completed to liis sntisfnc-^ 
tion, he encased himself in an extra overcoat, buttoned it up vet 
tight, tied a shawl round his neck and took his scat; he thei 
, crossed the road with the same composure and absence of hurry' 
vhich had distinguished his movements from the first, dismounted, 
opened the door of the vchielo, and again raising his hat, handed 
in the dtenelied creature with the air and attitude of a mailre de 

Bat this hy the way ; meanwhile we were speeding on, plunging 
into tnnncls, thundering over viaducts, gliding along vnlley9> 
shooting by stations, steaming, Bzxing, whistling, till a screech of 
more than ordinary intensity betokened the approach to Carlisle* 
Scleral times during the night, I had been nronsud from fitful 
alumltcr by the cramp and pains occasioned by a very confined 
pontkm Du a very hnrd seat, and more than onec by the unsteadi- 
Dcas of my left-hand neighbour, whose spiue seemed completely 
to have given way, and who was rolling about withont any attempt 
at wlf-control, and at every check or stoppage of the train dart- 
ing his head, like a battcriug-mm, against my ribs. It was, in- 
dcc^l, very anuisiiig to note by the diiu light of the lamp above 
Ufj the various chnugcs that came over the ap|ii>urance of the 
pawen g CT s , their far-fetched devices to attain an easy position^ 
And the lamentable failure in which they issued. Tlie head ap- 
peared to be the great difficulty. Nobody seemed to have any 
ooc&sion for it, or to know what on earth to do with it. One 
gentleman had contrived to shut himself up like a turtle or n 
teloMope, nothing was visible above the shoulders; a plump 




Jeswle, too, erevlifle of shapety fonn, had collapsed appnrentlr 
into a bimdle trf" clothes and a bonnet, while a slim individuu, 
evidentlj a person of distinction, who had delighted ns with his 
alfidnlitT, was hanging, a most piteous spectacle, Uke a great coat 
onr the bade of his seat. 

1%e annoancement of— "Breah&st gentlemen," — acted like a 
Uast at the Seeker's horn : erery one sprang to his feet, and was 
precipitated iocontinentlr against his opposite neighbonr by a ]ast 
atrang conTulaion of the engine. Hot rolls and hotter coSec 
hning thoronghlr aroused the company, and restored them to 
mnmetiT and self-possesnon, we passed merrily enough across 
ne Bcffder. Of coarse there was no little jolang and tittering 
auong the damsels as we drew near the station of too celebrated 
Gretna. There was one lady in particular who kept popping her 
Imtd in and fiat of the window incessantly, having been assured 
by the affable gmtleman, whom I had not before discovered to be 
a wag, that "his Bererence,'* attired in full canonicals, was always 
in attendance on the platform to meet the "down tndn," and 
tiuit a stoppage of " ten minutes, ladies and gentlemen, for mar- 
riages," was uniformly allowed. 

Shortly after twelve we reached £dinbargh, and although it 
was raining pretty steadily, as I am told it uraally does in that 
neighbourhood, it was with the most lively satis&ctioa that we 
permitted our legs to resume their natural functions. Our stay in 
Edinburgh was, I am ashamed to say, limited to a few hours, 
daring which we contrived to run over, in a hasty and perfunctory 
manner, uot at all becoming: tourists of matnre age, the principal 
•Hon*." Me excused ourselves with a sort of shuffling promise 
to examine it more leisurely on our return. As it was, we carried 
away a sufficiently distinct impression of a very magnificent city 
ndly in want of a cathedral. Taking our places at the Prince's 
Street Station, we pushed on the same evening to Stirling, and 
arrived there in time to obtain a few glorious glimpses, by sunset, 
of the c<^lcbrated riew from the Castle Hill. 

Pitviously to taking our stroll, we had fixed, with discriminating 
pre. upv>n our hotel, and ordered dinner. This, as yon proceed 
farther north, becomes an extremely simple affair; you find one 
inn, one dinner. But in towns, the various signs and frequent 
invitations to "good entertainment" are apt to occasion doubt — 
even perplexity. For instance, as you enter, supposing there to 
bo a " line " in the neighbourhood, your attention is first caught 
bv a new, pale brick house, rather deficient in respect of outbuild- 
ings : a fourth-rate looking ostler is lounging about the door-way, 
and Mr. Bass's advertisements are put forth conspicuously in the 
window. A board, gorgeous with green and gold, announces this 
to bo " Tlie Railroad Hotel," but in spite of the smart cap ribbon 
which glances Rcross your sight, there is an air of discomfort about 
the establishment, evidenced by a broken pane or two, a want of 
order among the slates, and the appearance of one solitary stream 
of imoke issuing feebly from its "compo" chimney-pot, to say 

thing of the loose, shingly gravel spread before the entrance, so 



tluit you arc not to be nllnrcH, nud more onwards. Vcm will next 
■Mi, ponibly without beatowing^ much attention upon it, a long, 
low, and extensive building, of deep red cvlour : it i$ piercer) ubua- 
dantly with wiodown, cftc\\ set in its irhite frame. The porttd 
wide, but wanting in lieit;ht, and abore it hangs a dark nnintel- 
ligible sign — a *' George," or a " Rose," — evidently the work of a 
nry old master. The houNc is situated at tlic corner of a narrow, 
■tnct, leading into the mnrket-plitce, and bears across its front thtfi 
vordi "Commercial Inn/* depicted in the plainest characters. 

Kearly oppo«itc stands a structure of a very different stamp. 
This is built of free stone, or, at least, is fiiced with stucco; the 
feui'st ration, as my friend, who is a bit of an ecclcsioloj^isi, tcnna 
it, i» highly ornate; a sweep of steps conducts to a handsome 
porch, on cither side of which there stands a row of dusky etcr- 
greens, in boxes ; a waiter proper, cravatted and napkincd argent^ 
fiUs tlie centre, and assumes a somewhat siipereilious air as yoa 
apfHTOBcb. He does nut know whether you can hare beds — he 
will inquire of the chambermaid. Taking adrantagc of the flnn- 
jtcy's nonchalance, you bc^ that he will not trouble himself, liuny. 
back in a sort of despair, and plunge, without further hesitation, 
itito the doorway of his less pretending rival. And yoa do wiselyj 
Of all refuges for the weary traveller commend me to a snug 
commercial house. Prime joints, cheerful Sres, general cleanliness, 
Moilrratfl clinrges, and a fixed hortoranum for sc-rvauts characterise 
tftbe obst. It was at some such hostelrie that wc put up at 

On ihc foUowiug moniiiig, aAcr partaking of a mesa of pottage, 
and a very nasty mess it wn», which we had ordered as a nationi 
disb, and which our landlady informed us bad never been calle 
for before, we entered upon the real business of the tour — kna( 
Back on bock and stalT in hand, wo trudged on merrily to Douna 
to breakfast. The ruins of a castle, tbc finest, it is iaid, in Scot- 
land, grace the liltie \illagi.-, which whs itself of note in former 
times AS a mannfactory for highland pistols, a weapon still in some 
[loqucflt at Scottish f^tes and VauKhall masquerades. From Doune 
proceeded to Callender, and so by Coilantogle ford, which 
. aomehuw escaped rccopiition, to Lanrick mead and along the 
'•ide of Ixjch Veiinachar. Here our attention wa« especially 
j called tu the fact that the said Luch was now the sole property of 
a Right Ilononrablc Lord, and that any person fishing therein, or 
I trcapassing thereon, or in any way deviating from the bt-atcn road 
vould be "prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law." At the 
Bridge of Turk we paused to cast an eager glance up the wiid 
dt-Qlc of haunted Glcnfiidasj but, seeing no green maidens to- 
lure n» from onr wny, no bore right nn some three miles further, 
and reached the foot of the famous Troaachs Pass. 

Bnt, ohj what a change has come over the spirit of the Bcene 

unci: the good old days of clan and claymore, red Maegregors and 

dark Ro<lericsl Here a broad and pleasant rood, trarcUed by 

"enpomtion " coaches, winds easily up that bristled ridge of yoro 

[to be sarmonnCcd only by a precipitous track, half path, half 

^ 1 


ladder, coostmcted with the tangled roots of forest trees. Here, 
too» in the wild highlands, in the very centre of the country of 
Rob Rot, within a iDonung:'s walk of the robber*B lake, for such, 
I giicTe to say, is the true signiScatioa of Loch Katrine, a brief 
allusion to a forty shilling fine is suflScient to enable the gallaut 
proprietor to keep all his fish and his fowl to himself 1 No wonder 
the green ladies hare long since given up phiying their tricks upon 
tzmTelleis. Ujs Lordship is cle»'ly not a man to be trifled with. 

As regards the accommodation, the place is a show place, and 
abounds with the luxuries and the counterbalancing d4aagr^men$ 
pn^r to show places. There are two inns — I suspect the exist- 
ence of a third — one at the Bridge of Turk, recently named the 
"New Tiosachs,*^ promising, and, I am told, not &iUug in the 
per&nnaDoe, qoarters both good and cheap ; another, that we were 
ajyroaching, an edifice of &r hi^er pretensioos. The latter 
oocnpies the site of the old original " Trosachs," and has been 
bvilt with a due regard to the ancient character of the locale, 
being strongly defended by tower and turret, in the most approved 
cruet-stand style of fortification. We were shown into a very 
lofty baronial hall, rery grand and very gloomy, and very cold ; 
two or three parties already assembled were either engaged* upon a 
sQent meal, or sat huddled up together, like small knots of con- 
spirators, holding whispered converse. A youthful tourist, who 
reutured to break the silence, and give an indiscreet order for 
^vrs, nas out down instantly by the waiter, and spake no more. 
There was altogether a dampness in the air — it was raining stea- 
dily — a weight upon the spirits, and a chilliness about the extre- 
mities that effectually repressed conversation. We tried toddy — 
it wouldn't do — and we were not sorry when the hotu* permitted 
us to n'tire to our chamber, at the very summit of the western 
peppor-box. In the morning, after disposing of a substantial 
break5t»t, and dischai^ng our bill, which, considering the sophis- 
ttcatiou of the place, was moderate, and partially satisfying the 
expectations of the attendants, which were immoderate, we sallied 
forth, accompauied by the young gentleman who was so severely 
dealt with the night before. For the ioformation of those curious 
in " hotel chanres," I may observe that all payments were made 
out of n common purse by my fnend, an anstere man, fully equal 
to the resisting extortionate demands, and impervious to the re- 
proaches of nipacious retainers — that our invariable rule with 
res|)ect to that delicate subject, the remuneration of servants, was 
to give, each, for every meal, threepence, and a further sum of 
sixpence to the chambermaid. This, with the single exception 
just mentioned, was always received with content, most commonly 
with gratitude. Once on the road our spirits rose, and our young 
acquaintance, though bending beneath the weight of a heavy knap- 
sack, railway-rug, fishing-rod, and Macintosh, chirped cheerily as 
we Hcnt. 

The picturesque approach to Loch Katrine has beeu described 
too often and too well to need any supplementary illustration at 
the hands of Mr. Fixby. To say the truth, our presence there at 



all was rather a conccflsion to the force of public optnioD^ and, 
with nil it-t loveliiiGfta, rich ta it in in r&ricd beauty^ it was not 
tltogetitcr UiHt which wc came out to see. Do I, then, imply 

-ft dMappointiucnt at the sccuo? By no nienns; at lei»t, ns the 
Irish (;cntlemnn obscired, I was not disappointed nny mort- than I 
expected to be. It struck me, perhtips, as a little too much of the 
lake orni to snit a simple taste. \ icired, however, on a bright 
momtno;, or calm summer's ere, tbe magic of that woudrous 
combination of glaRsy water and luxuriant foliage, sunlit heather 
and shadowy glcQ] must win tlie severest critic to ndroiration. As 

it vat, I gazed through the Scotch mist which brought all — 

I mountain, and forest, and )»ke, and sky — under one neutral tiot^ 
well pleased, indeed, hut not enraptured. 

Our young compnnioti appeared to regard the scene in a very 
dilTerent lit;ht. The bold outlitie of the bnckgrouud, or the beaa 
tiful blending of rock and tree, and mend «nd stream, were n( 
thing to him : he cared nothing about neutral tints. He had the 
"Imj of the Lake" in bis pocket and in his heart; and ench 
feature in the outspread of the landscape was to him as a familiar 
spot. This was Ellen's Isle — you beetling crng, the look-out of 
Rudcric Dhu — precisely in this hollow fell l^tzjames's gallant grey 
— the stag escft|)cd in thnt direction, and here the two foemea. 
took their rest in trustful security, aide by side. It ia realiyi 
•omotbing more than amusing to observe the unquestioning 
iaitli with which untivcs and vtsitora alike agree to accept the 
particulars of thnt true historj'. No classic myth ever gained 
firmer hold upon the credulity of a people than the legend of the 

i}ady has secured in the Highhmdts. Hoderic Dim is ijuite nt real] 
a personage as Achilles, ami fair .Rlh^i's beauty as sincerely he~| 
lieved in as that of her*ake of Troy. Tew spots, 
indeed, are regarded with more lively intcreist, or identified xvitU 
more jealuuH accuracy than those on which the Magician of the 
North bus laid his spell. And ingenious critics hare discovered 
thst Walter Seotl is uo poet ! Uf which among the genits can a^ 
more genuine triumph be recorded ? 

Taking ibe road by the Xjoch side, and parting with our corrpft-] 
nion at llie ferry, we determined to make our way by a componv-j 
tively unfrequented track to the bead of Ijoch Lomond. As fa 
as Olcngjle — the birth-place of Hob Koy— the rond was goo^ 
enough. Hero, however, at a farm-bouse, tt terminated. Follow-^ 
ing the directions of a shepherd, we kept straight up tlie glen, till, 
at the ftwt of a bold and somewhut lofty hill, it split into two 
branches, the larger of which bore towards the right, and along 
this should run the path as laid down in the map; while the other 
ttiroed abruptly, and with a rapid ascent, to the left. The latter 
was the course recommended by our informant ; following, there- 
fore, a noisy hum atniost to its source, we wheeled to the right as 
we approached the bead of the mvitie, scaled the ridge at its most 
practicable point, and soon found ourselves on that rocky barrier 
which separates the two lakes. 
For some Uttle time a mist huBg upon the mouotaio, shutting 

160 MR. fixby's visit to skyk. 

out all Tier ; then came a stirring (tf the heavy TapourSj the hu^ 
masaeB rolled aside and were borne ilowly upwards, gleanu of 
■DDthine poured in, and the grandear of the Boeneiy was by de- 
greet disclosed. To the right and behind rose the craggr peaks 
of the Braes of Balwidder, aad we beeaoae aware, though it wai 
never fully uareiled, of the gloomy presence of 3&i Lomond on 
oar left ; below us, and stretching aouthward, as far as the eye 
coiUd reach, la^ the lake of idands. Having gazed our full, a 
nnall white house at the head of the loch, which turned out to be 
the new inn at Ardluie, attracted our attention; towards this 
we set our faces. And now, for the first of many times, did I miss 
my trusty alpon-steck, the best of all aids in getting down in the 
world ; I should decidedly advise every thorough-going pedestrian 
to provide himself with something of the kind ; it should be a 
pole about six feet and a half in length, armed at one end with 
an iron spike, light but strong enough to bear his weight in steep 
descents, to the great and constant relief of joint and muscle. At 
Ardluie we ferried across the river, and gained the main road at a 
distance of two miles (rova Inverarchan. 

Here we were received by the most accomplished and accom- 
Bwdating of waiters that ever gave man welcome at an ion. 
Could we hare dinner immediately? We could have dinner ira- 
mediatelr — there would be soup and fish of course, a small joint 
and pastry — it would be served by the time we were dressed — 
and it was ! — He was a wonderful man that waiter, uoapproncbed 
and unapproachable in his craft! as Ariosto and ai^rwards, 
Byon, observes — " Nature farmed him, and broke the die." 
Bxpid and noiseless was he in his movements, flexible of wrist, firm 
of purpose, of never-failing readiness, unbounded informatioD, in- 
exhaustible patience, possessed of a sort of second-sight as re- 
garded our wants and wishes, and a supernatural celerity in pre- 
senting them — his mission was to make glad the hearts of tourists. 
We naturally consulted so accomplished an attendant as to our 
future plans. All difficulties were made to disappear on the instant 
— we could go anywhere, do anything, with a guide or without 
one — there was no danger, no risk — no possibility of error. Could 
we make a cross-country cut to Dalmally? Nothing more easy. 
Should wc be likely to miss our road in penetrating the Braes of 
Balwidiler? — Such a misadventure could by uo chance happen. 
Should we be certain of finding accommodation among the moun- 
tains? Without the least doubt — and all this was delivered in a 
low modulated tone, at once deferential and encouraging, and witb 
A demeanour the gravity of which was happily relieved by its grace. 
His smile was rare, but very persuasive. My austere friend seemed 
to doubt the authority of the information so complacently delivered, 
and the uufavournble state of the weather prevented, to my secret 
satisfaction, our ever putting it to the test. I have a great faith 
in that waiter, which I would by no means wish disturbed. 

Up StrathfiUan we bent our steps, staying a while to revel in 
the rush of the great fall which, fed by a hundred streams all 
swollen and turbid with the rains, was thtmdering and foaming 



' tlie roadside. The remniuder of otir walk that day presents 
nothing worthy of iiutc, if I may except a pleasant deviation from 
the common route made ou crossing the bridj;c about four miles 
from the Inn at Invcroran, which we reached by au old aud almoiti 
obliterated mtiuutaio road. 

Our next day's journey took us t]irougb the heart of the 
Uanjucss of BrCHftalbanc's deer forest, a wild and picture 
district, where our eyes were first greeted with the sight of anoHTr 
It can be hardly necessary to remind cren the most jureailttj 

^tearist, that in a Scotch fureat lie must not expect to lind an/j 
imblaucc to those he lias seen described in the worki of Mrs. 
findchlft! or Mr. Jiimes; the foreota he will meet with iu the 
Highlands arc vast uncuttifatcd tracts^ cuuiprisin^ moor and 

imonntatu, moraas and luch, unadorned, probably, by a single tree 
of noble girlb, and devoted to the support of deer> and a few 
•hecp. It waa through one of the most celebrated of these that 
ve approached Gleacoc ; and desolate, indeed, is the cntniuce to, 

l^is, the finest pass in Scuttiuid. Far away to the right baud for'' 
miVa, and bounded by the dim and distant hills, extends n broad 
plateau of peat bog, with its dark stagunnt pools and spots of 
suspicious green, and relieving, by its rnst extent, that sense of 
confinement which is apt to press unpleasantly on the mind, amid 
the uiaguificeace o( mountain scener}'. In front, and forming, as 

.it wen-, the portals of the glen, stand boldly forth thn>e dnrk aud 

[tfugg}' clids, the size of which you find you bare a Httle under- 

rjalcd^ as you toil round their base. Passiug forward, you are 
excited, bewildered, and enchanted by the ever-varying prospect. 
Evciy turn iu the siuuuua path introduces a fresli picture, pre- 

^wnting fresh combinations of light aud shade, disclusing fresh 
leiita of penk and precipice; till, at length, a little sated 
With the wonders of nature, a Lttle wearied with linrd walking;, 
and a Utile sliQ' iu the nock from gnziitg so perpetually upwards, 

[j^oa bethink yourself of seeking some memorial of that savage 
lleed which baa rendered Gleucoe a byword and a shame. 

The narrow gorge ha^ opened into a fair valley ; a rich and 

.^dove- crapped mcaduw rests between the receding hills; a small 

^'bnm, glittering in the suu, occupiea the centre, aud, by its side, 
a lietr trees attracting atteutiou to the spot, the remains of founda-i 
tion walls arc distinctly to be traced; you coucludc very tuitu- 
nUly that here stood the desolated home of the Macdoualds. 
Tradition, hourcrcr, assigns another locale to the bloody dced._ 
'?atti]ig the loch, you aiTive at a particularly un prepossess li _ 
public hoiiM.', at the back of Mhteh is sceu another branch of tlie 
■lilcn, stretching away to the left; and in this, accnnling to tlio 

j-^hepherds uf the neighbourhood, tlic xthereabouts being indicated 
by a small hnt, the ill-fated village was situated. Nut far from 
ilie inn alluded to, there is aUo said to be a very remarkable 
ascent, termed iu the guide book^, by what logicians would call n 

'<onfiuiun of particulars aud univcrsalfi, '* the duiigenmit step:'' 
the truth, however, is, tliat very periloiut portions of any of these 
lnu:ta are dcuumiuated by some Ciache gutturatiou, which is tlius 


MR. FixBY 8 vigrr to skye. 

tranglftted : vre encountered several such. The peculiarity of tfant 
of Glencoe consists in the hHving to crawl for some distance slong 
the iunimit of & lofty rido:e, prcsentiu'^ an edge so narrow that 
footing must he sought ou both sides, and a view doiru eitlicr of 
the glens ngrecnble or the reverse, nccording to the state of the 
traveller's uerve, is the reward oi" the fent. I experienced, I must 
confess, a strong desire, of which I nm now not a little nshaincdf 
to discover and clamber up this precipice ; my cautiotis friend, 
however, whosie uiaxim is, never to se^k a peri), nor sLun it when 
jit comes, {inve mc no eucouragement. Notwithstanding many 
I'-insidious hints, founded on a pretty complete knowledge of hi» 
idiosyncrasy, I was unable to communicate a ttpark of the ardour 
which had attained a rather unpleasant degree of intensity in 
my own breast. My friend objected nothing, bat shrugged hi« 
shoulders^ and walked on. It was well he did so, for by the time 
^wc reached Bttlahuliah tenderness in the feet, nnd a little general 
irritation of the system, gave evidence of a sufficiently fntiguing 
day's work. We lind been reconmjiended, and had every reason 
to he gralcfnl for the recommendation, to a most respectable inn, 
On this side tlie ferry, where, notwithstanding the arrival of a 
noble lord and the excitement conseciucut thereon, wo wero well 
cared for, and well lodged. 

A glwnce at the map will show a very direct cut tohc made from] 
Balabulisli to Fort William, and though there is neither pnlh nor 
track for a great portion of the way, wc determined to attempt It, 
Passing over the ferry, wo made straight across an intervening 
neat-field to the opposite hills, and having marked an inviting 
iiollow in the range, speedily cffeeted the ascent; a sort of track, 
indeed, exists, starting from the back of a row of cottH;;cs, and 
conducts thnjugli tlic bnisbwood to the lop. Here we found every 
induecuieut to repose, the softest heather, a seaward view, a cool-1 
ing breeze, and a Httlc stilfnesa about what our chief clerk calla] 
the suspensory' ligaments. Before us lay a true and complete higb*J 
land valley, bare and desolate, with its heathery sides, peaty bottom,! 
brawling stream, and small loch. One or two hovels, scarcely to baj 
distinguished from the ijrey iticks around, i-c-ited on the hill slope,] 
and at a considerable distance on our right, a building of greater 
pretensions gleaming among the trees thnt overhung the lake, was 
just visible. That was our point ; from that house a road, very 
trjing, as we should suppose, to the uer^es of the proprietor, to sayl 
nothing of his gig-springs, led into the highway which, skirting the 
-outer ramparts of Ben Nevis, dips down at last into the town of 
Tort William. 

For three Imndred nnd sixty two days in the year Fort William^ 
is one of the dullest and dirtiest little towns in Scotland ; durii 
the remaining three, on the occasion of the great wool fair, it is 
one of tlic noisiest and dirtiest. It was at the close of this annual 
merry-raaking and mouey-makiug, the hubbub at its height, the 
pliice crowded with shepherds, drovers, merchants, and farmers — 
the odour of whisky predominant above all others, and they were 
amaf and strong- — that we arrived. 



WuE> he who has held a conspicnous place in a gTcat revo- 
lution, and swayed the pnssions of a national council through a 
seasoo of convulMon, abandons the political arena, eilher iVotii 
choice or necessity, and goes inio the exile of his library to write 
books for the people, the world if) inclined, with justice, to suspect 
that he had ongitially inistakfu his vocation, and that, iu ror&aking 
the field uf action for ttiu calmer rcgiott of inquiry and rcfluction, 
be ha& at last hit upon the coui-se for wliich lie is bcKt qualiliud. 
It is not given to every man, under such circuiu»tance8, to he fol- 
lowed inio his retirement, like Cincinuatus, and besuu[{lit to return 
lu the rescue of his country. If mankind agree that he shall bo 
left there to meditate on tlic past, and shape the results of his 
expeticnce into lessons of instruction for the future, — if it be found 
that his writiri),"* excite more interest, and eotninand a wider inllu- 
mcc than his acts, — wc inny rensonably conclndc; that he has 
exchanged a career in which success was un attain a bit' fur the cul- 
iiratioii of a pursuit iu whicli he is likely to excel inust of his cun- 
temponuics. The very causes of his failure in the one— the deli- 
cacy of his moral organisation, or the impetnoiis ardour of a san- 
guine temperament, or perhaps an excess uf ihu imaginative ovi-r 
ihr- philosophical clement — may contribute materialU' to the 
achievement of distinction in tbu other. 'I'hus it was with Cla- 
rendon, whoso venal life is redeemed by hia books; thus, loo, 
with Bacon, whose hands were never so well employed as in the 
labours of the pen; thus also witli Guizol; and thus wiih Alphonse 
de Lamanioe, the author of the History of the GiromUns, and of 
a work of historical portaiture, now before us In an excellent 
Epglifili Iranslulion,* — a book which will be here.iflur referred to 
as une of the most remarkable publicatiuns of our liuic. 

The character of Lamartine's mind, and the direction of liis 
occupations and studies duriug the lost seven or eight years, are 

})cculiar)y caletdated to impress a special value upon his literary 
abours. Few living writers possess in so high a degree the power 
of ini eating historical subjects with that dramatic and picturesipie 
intrt<*)^t which disiin^nitih the modem authorship of Frouee. hi 
all those qualities of vivid colouring, artistic grouping, and strik- 
ing characterisation, which arc esliniatod by French ciitics amongst 
the higliest merits of the historian, LamarUne's wonderful narrative 
of the Girondists leaves all competition at an itn measurable dis- 
tance behind. Combiuing force and perspicuity of atalemeut with 
brilliancy of ^Lyle, and a striking disjio^ition and development of 
incidentSf lli»re was thrown over the whole u certain charm of 
sentiment which it always attractive iu France, and which, incom- 

* *' MemoifB of Celebrated CfiMctfr*." By Alphoiu*dc\iuaaitJ)iu>. %idia> 


paiK« as it appears to iis,irith tbe graver and more responsible 

tiaas of bistory, exercises, Derertheless, a secret influence over 

nmz judgment. Tbe sentiment of Lamartine is not to be con- 

Caanded with thai vaniiT of pbrase and finesse of expression which 

a» so carioasly assisted br tbe genius of tbe language, and which 

die popalar usie has eiecled into a kind of established mode. In 

Um it is the wild flower that springs up out of a rich poetical 

■oil ; wlule tbe semiiDent of most other French writers may be 

ciMipaiedT br war of completing tbe analogf, to the artificial 

Sdwcis of a CvbiMAUe — jaztn. The oiuon of the poet and the 

poficcian has seMoM been productire of satia&ctory resnlts ; yet 

Aoe seems lo be a special propriety in thor combination in the 

ksBboncal voHes of LaBuitjue. It enables bim to bring bis full 

pCMCiJ into pliT vpon subjects that admit of animated treatment ; 

ami. W seldoa chosea any other. His instinct carries bim 

maSekr vjkv^k^ tbe penk that beset him on both rides ; he rarely 

«««rtiys^ his descriptioos with extraneous embelltshmenta, or sacri- 

firw ^ts to tbe sag^estioDS of fancy ; there is always a distinct 

pvrpvve kept in Tiev; there is matter as well as beauty in his most 

ga*$ev>v5 pja:ja$es; and it he sometimes conrerts history into 

n^acce. :i i$ in the lorm ratber than tbe substance. 

Tben- is coabt that tbe art of writing bistoij in the way in which 
it ec^rfat to be written, as an appeal to the nnirersal comprehension, 
is a Btodem discoTitiy. It seems never to hare entered into the 
srheaftf ot tbe stantlud aothois who flourished in the last genera- 
ttoo. tbat it was necessary to enlist the sympathies of the multi- 
t*i&f. or to npflect tbe spirit of the age in their elaborate and 
foraul ohjiptirr!;. State papers thrown into dreary narratives 
coMpn$e>i the whole scow of iheir laboon. "Hie life" of the toil- 
mji; c)ass<K ; customs and manners acted upon by events, and re- 
actiM: apon institutions; the humani^ of kings and conquerors, 
•tf Wn*rs and suft^rers; and the growth of opinions, of sects and 
|MXt>e$. of re^trms and revolutions swelling np out of the deep 
cMKvictK>a$ of the multirado, ascending gradually to high places, 
aihl fituHv controlUns: legislation or overturning dynasties, were 
WTvr rjikt-n into consideration as matters requiring to be traced 
OMt wt;h fidvflili'. as containing M'ithin themselves the true expo- 
nit%>o *^'' the ptv^ynfss of nations. That s\-stem of writing history 
is alrwftdy extinct : and Macaulay in England, and Lamartine in 
rranoo ntjir bo regarded as tbe pioneers upon the new track of 
*mi«itA\ which, instead of stopping short in archives and 
|mUws, condm-ts ns out into the open air, and iatroduces us to 
the h.>rac$ and haunts of the people. There is a marked differ- 
ence hetwy*-!! them, but it is a differer>ce of climate, and not of 
aims. Their means are rimilar, and their object is idenlical. 
The whole philosophv of tbe question is admirably expressed by 
l*amartine. in his eloquent introduction to the volumes on our 
table. ** What is it in historr," be asks, " that moves or excites 
the inassos ? It is men — men only. Yon cannot excite yourself 
over a chart, or be moved by a chronology. These abridged and 
analytic processes are the algebra of history, freezing while they 



inntmct. This algebra of memory mnst be Icfl to the leaTnetl ; 
who, umirlftt their dusty books, after rending oil llteir lives, and 
CTOvdiogtbeir repertories witli tnllliotis of fai-t*. uaiues, antl dates, 
du«iru to make a syuuptic^il tabic of tliuir scieDcc, in order tu be 
able At any momcut to lay their fingers on the date of a year, or 
ibc name of a dynasty. J'opular reading is not like tbis ; it is not 
•rudtte, but tiiipaBsioQcd. " Adapting this view of tlie true fuuctious 
ofbiMory to bis own work, be goes on to show ibat tbc moftft of 
nm<len a«ze upon a few dominant facts, and conuecling tbem 
vhfa the lires of a small number of distinguished men, are thus led 
to penetrate the heart and spirit of the times, and to feel and uu* 
dervtaod ihd action of eventa. " History was dead,** he exclaims, 
" because it bad become a book, but returus to life because it bas 
again become a living man." Tliv illastraiion is an argument on 
behalf of Uiat method of dealing with bislorical msterials which 
eiuluwit ibera uith Uriii^, liumun lutercKt^ and iii specially intended 
to piunt ont tbe advantages of biography as a bey to historical 

Tbe biogmpfaies be lins selected for tlic purpose of exhibiting 

■ practically what may be done in tliis way, for the instruction of ilio 
million, by a writer who is conversant with their wants, and who 
kDuws now to awaken their sympathies, embrace a wide range of 
time and character, and are designedly disconnected and indepcn- 
desC of each other, but so compreheni^ive upon the whole has to 
lesra • clear impression of isolated facts^ which, in the end, will 
dpup into their right pliiccs, and assume something of a continuoos ' 
Rl^ion to each other in tbe mind of the reader. The reason as- 
rigned for scattering a colleelion of historical portraits up and 
down, with a prcmcditah'd disregard of chronological order, thiows 
a I'gbt upun the plan of cheap popiilar literature M. de Lamarliue is 
aadeafatiring;, with iiidefiitigAbU industry, to establifih in rniiice. 
Had hs been delivering o aeries of lectures he tells us, he wnuld 
have proceeded systei italic ally in tbe order of time; but he was 
writing e book, aud thu first condition of a book designed fur 
popttUr circulation is variety. Atti'ntion mii&t be sliinuUted : the 
iceliogs muKt be excited ; tbe »cene of the (Inmia must be shilied ; 
nonoiony and the appearauco of study, mu^t, above oil ibings, be 
aroidL-d. A glance at bis ubie of Uogriphica will show how 
cflfctually be bas secured for bis readers the attraction he con- 
siders indispensable. The first name on his hst is Nelson, atid the 
next Hcloise, who is succeeded by Christopher Columbus, Paiissy 
the poller, Hoostam and Cicero. These simngly •contrasted indi* 
Tidaalitics occupy bis tinit volume. The second is no less striking 
in tbe Tcrealility of its sdectinns. Sucrales iind Juquiudf Joan of 
Arc and Cromwell, Homer, Guit«-nbtrg and Ftnelon. We need' 
not pauae orcr their names to indicate the distant ages tltey typify, 
or to point out the ultimate connection that exists among^t Uiuu, 
by which the reader, who has mastered ihcir details, may be 
enabled to draw from tbe entire colleclioD, not mernly detailed 
9Dts of mfarmatiun, hut to eliminate elemrntary priuctpleft' 
tbe leading characteristics of different period*. 


The topics trarened and the indiridnals portrayed, are replete 
with sag^sdre materials. The old Greek ageof poetiy, illustrated 
tliroDgfa the life of Homer ; tlie rage of faction, vith bd unmistak' 
able applicatton to later times, exliibited in the death of Socrates ; 
lore expiated by misfortune, sanctified by religion, and rendered 
&mons by genius, displayed in the history of Heloise ; the spread 
c^drilisation, in the discorery of new races, and the completion of 
the physical unity of the globe, traced through the career of Co- 
lombns ; the true greatness, the dignity, and the high mission of 
the workman, exemplified through tiie labours of Palissy ; and the 
wonders of that art of printing, by which the man of to-day is 
made contemporaneoos with Caesar and Praxiteles, and in turn, is 
destined to become the contemporary of the men of a remote pos- 
terity, brought to light in the story and the processes of Gulten- 
berg, are amongst the subjects chosen by M. de Lamartine, with 
a sonnd judgment, and discussed with a viracity and intellectual 
appreciatioD that cannot fail to convey instruction and delight. 

In estimating the value, and judging truly of the execution of a 
work that ascends to higher purposes than that of mere amuse- 
ment, it is necessary to ascertain clearly, in the first instance, 
what are the aims of the author. If he has written with a special 
object io view, it is indispensable that we should inform ourselves 
as to the nature of that object, before we venture to express an 
opinion upon his labours. He must uot be tried by a standard of 
our own, or by a comparison with other writers, or by arbitrary 
canons of any kind. He must be tested by the fitness of his means 
in reference to his end — and by that alone. When Dr. Johnson 
reproves Dryden for the incompleteness of the "Absalom and 
Achitophel," and, with a mar^'ellous waste of critical acumen, com- 
pares it to an enchanted castle which melts into air the moment a 
trumpet is blown at the gates, disappointing the reader at the 
Tery climax of expectation, he applies to one form of composition 
a test that belongs to aoother of a wholly difierent character, and 
falsifies at once the work of the poet and his own judgment. To 
arrive at a just and practical conclusion, we must accept a work 
for what it is, and for what it is intended to be ; not for what we 
desire to find it, or for what we think it ought to be. The author 
of a drame at the Porte St. Martin is not to be tried by the same 
laws of art that are properly put io force at the Fran^ais or the 
Od^on ; still less is the writer who addresses particular classes, 
adapting himself in form, diction and spirit, to the audience he has 
chosen, to be tried by conventional priuciples or abstract theories. 
"Whether he has chosen wisely — whether his design is restricted 
within objectionable limitations — and whether the final design is 
commendable or otherwise, are legitimate topics for criticism. 
But these are independent questions, which, although fairly within 
the range of animadversion, are external to the actual question 
involved in the estimate of the book itself. 

The application of this measure of criticism to Lamartine, as he 
appears in his book of " Celebrated Characters,'' is sufficiently 
obvious. He avows his object plainly. He, who in the happy 



b toi 

limf of liU vouth enjoyed a brilliant popuUritj amongst the most 
euincnt men of bis age, the applause of tlic most bcauiiftil nod 
accomplislicd women, and tbe intimate friendship of priuccft, lias 
gatlieri^d wisdom from liis reverses, and now seeks to ptuclrate, 
oot the &a1uiis of the pdlace or llic boiidairs of the aristoemcv, but 
the cotta^^cs of the pcaNantry, the fishing-boats of the coast popu- 
lation, the atelier ol the uorkiUAn. the canvas bag of the tHjlitary 
shepherd as he watches over bis flocks on the heightB of the Alps 
or the Pyrenees. Instead of exciting ihe curiosity and receiving 
the inccnKC of the great and the learned, he dii'siroi to accoinplisb 
the nobler ainbiliou uf iiislructiuj,' the poor and the iguonint, and of 
bring rewardt-d by the tuiivcDtality, rather than the exclnxivcness 
of his repntation. To be read by the evening light of the house- 
bold lamp, to be repeatud in fragments on the Sunday walk 
amoDgKt ibc cornfields and vineyards, to pilch about with the 
earthen crocks and cooking utensils of the fisherman, and to 
beeoine, tu short, a part of the funiiture of the people in uJl iheic 
varied Rrcunations, rural, pastoral, maritime or sedentary— consti- 
tute the end he proposes to liimsclf in this pnblication, and clearly 
c^^hibit the objects for which it was composed. So far from con- 
sidciing lits iilemry position cumproniiseil by silting down to write 
exprt'itsly for the masses, he regards such an undcna1<ing as a 
moral elevation. " This ambition," be says, " seems, at first sight, 
to asjiire lu sink, but, in ivali(y,iis aspiration is tipwanls, fur there 
is nothing niorc lol'ty than tin.- soul of a nation." He p\ils the 
conlra^^t between the lubluMnable author, and the writer who appi'als 
to the intellectual wants of tho population still more forcibly in a 
single phrase : " Tu bo admired you must rise ; to be useful, you 
inu-st descend." The illustration by which be exbihits the work- 
ing of ihis jirinciple is hup^iy and characteristic. "Gold," ho ob^ 
serves, " is gold nndei' all shopes — in the ingot as in the coin. But 
llie rjueslJOD to be detcruuued i«, whether you would preler being 
tiie gilding tliat glares uselessly on the steps of the throne, or the 
iogot that lies in fairest splendour in tlio cellars of the bank, or 
tlic little coin which is constantly passing from hand to hand in 
the peqietual trafTic of tho crowd. The coin is worth less to one 
man, but it is inrstimahic to the multitude. Multiply its value by 
the values it is mouienlly acquiring in its rapid fxcbauges, and you 
will see how infinitely it outweighs the ingot in the amount and 
extent of the social benefits its rejircsenls, This," he adds, 
"is the whole secret of popular literature, and it is also the lead- 
ing object and sole merit of the present publication." 

It is a grave mistake to suppose that in order to attain this 
olijccliitis necessary to write down to the capacity ul the mnlti- 
lude, an expression that has obtained currency like many other 
Cilhicics, without cxaminauon. It would be difhcult to put to- 
getlicr a uoi'o vague, loose, and misleading collocation of words, 
apparently convening a specific uieaniug, but iu reality, having 
none at all. Who can supply us with the foot-rule by which we 
are to measure tlie ca|)acity of the multitude ? Where is the lino 
to be drawn, beyond which this capacity is supiHwod to be uoable 

in lamaktece's mstoatCAL characters. 

to leek informitioD wMi adnnlage ? What are the boundaries of 
Ms igDorance ? ^liat are tbe natmal impediments, if any, that 
WBSt for erer be piesumed to bar oot the working classes from the 
parsait and attanmient, not nerelj of the useful parts of know- 
iedlge, bat of its graces and refineinc n t s ? The annals of a conntry, 
an tbe annals of progress and acqmntion. That which was true 
of its inteltectnal condition ten rears ago, is ntterlj untrue now. 
It is changing and adrancing ereij hoar; sometimes slowly, some- 
tines in nri^ty and ra^nd strides. To understand this ontrard 
lad upward morement, we mnst ourselres participate in the im- 
fnbe. If we would appeal to the enlarged and enlarging capa- 
city of the people of the present day, we most dismiss these com- 
Ibitable axioms of literary absolutbm which time and events hare 
Rndeied obsolete, and look alnnad into tbe world of action for 
the liring facts by which we are to be guided. The depths of the 
popular mind are to be soonded only in popular institutions, and 
tbnr palpable results. Examine them attentively, and we saspect 
it will be foond that in writing for the people, the highest intel- 
lects win find it necessary, not, indeed, to shape their discourses 
as if they were addresang children or clowns, but to poor into 
Aeir books the fall tide of their knowledge. The manner, no 
doabt, is of importance. It should not be artificial or affected — 
for the popular appetite b an honest one, and crarea substantial 
fare. It should not be remote or strange, for it is intended for 
household use, and ought to be easy and ^miliar. It should not 
be erudite or grand, for the intelligence of the people is practical, 
and not scho]ariy. Tbe manner is important, &ad difficult in pro- 
portion. It should be perspicuous, and everjrwhere appropriate 
— always to the purpose — always accurate and distinct — never 
clouded by fantastical speculations, or the false glitter of verbal 
conceits. But this is not writing down to the multitude. It is 
tbe hiphest writing of all — the style which it has been the ambi- 
tion of the greatest authors to achieve, and in which few hare 
succeeded. As to the matter, it may embrace the widest range of 
inqnirr. There is no science or philosophy the people are not 
able to derive improvement from, provided the exposition be plain 
and rational. If the author fail to interest hia readers, he may 
lake it for granted the fault is in him, not in them. 

That Lamarline thoroughly tmderstands the conditions upon 
which popular literature should be formed, is evinced in every 
page of these volumes. The English taste, it should be remem- 
bcrt-d, is more sober and subdued than that of the French, and 
rejects the figumtive and sentimental cast of expression which 
mav be regarded as the common language of our neighbours. 
Wo must make allowances for this complexiooal difference, which, 
after all, does not materially affect the substantive aims of the 
writer. Lamartine's mode of treating his topics throws a glow 
over Ihem, which renders them additionally fascinating, without 
interfering with their symmetry, or reducing their value. His 
Mtfh '» fervid and imagerial, and carries prosaic things into the 
■fKMi of imsgiastion, where he bathes tuem Vn Tvc\i u^i '^\v\d 



CoKiar*. Bnt the rfspODsibilily of the prosaic fact is never lort i 
st|[ht of. His poetical tendency, allliotigh il p^rrades the work, 
m cvrrywherfl subservient to accuracy of slatcmciit. He sacri- 
fioesoo truth, iw> principle, no necessary detail to the exuberance 
of bis fmcy. The biographies are coniprcbensive and tuininous — 
the salient points of history are seized with precision, and dis- 
played in a focal light — there is not a line of superfluous author- 
stiip— no exhibition of literary Tanity — the whole is compact vet 
fiill, profound yet obnous, clear, animated and brilliant. The 
work will be read with profit by the moM educated readers, and 
lh«re is nothing in it that the least educated cannot at once 

The plan upon whirh it is cnnstnictcd flffbrds abundant scope 
fer enbracing a considerable extent of information, without mal(in|f 
excDnionsin search of it bcynnd the strict boundary of the imme- 
diate subject. Each character illustrates an era or an art — an 
historical, moral, or a social ]iroblem. Thus, in the biography of 
GntteiibcTg, wc have a hirtoiy of the discoren.* of pnuiing, intro- 
ducing a m&slcrly view of the preriouslr e.xistlng means of "trans- 
po«>ing i«])eec!i from the ear to the eye,'' which passage occiipieg 
only a page or two; but it contains in that brief compass all that 
is neceaury to impress upon the mind of the reader the nature of 
the change introdticed into the world by the intention of lypes. 
now finely, ton, is all this expressed ; how pure and elevating thp 
irligioiis sentiment il awakens ! " When language," exclaims the 
cU>quent Lamarline, " had been given, found, or invented, there 
wen still many centuries to elapse before reaching the other phe- 
nomenon, of confining inrisihlo and inimalerial thought invisible 
md materia) signs, engraven on a palpable substance. This 
phenomenon was that of wriling : writing transfers thought from 
one srnne to another. Sim-ccIi comiiiunicalcfi the thnnght from 
the month (otbc ear, through the medium of sound ; writing seizes 
the impalpable sound ou its progresR, tnin«fonnB it into signs or 
Irtters, and tbns cnmmnnicalcs ihonghl from the hand to the eyes. 
The ejes comraunicale it to the mind, by that e»-er my»leriaus 
lelation which exists between onr intellect and our senses, and be- 
hold speech become visible and palpable, instead of invisible and 
hamaterial a« it was before. Is any miracle comparable to ibis ?" 
Then, when writing came at last, il diil not meet the world-wide 
want. It was slow and expensive. It cnnld not l>e sulheientlT 
maltiplied to answer the requirements of on unlimited number of 
readers. Rich mcu alone cuuld have lil>rarie9. " The enlighten- 
ment of the mind," he proceeds, " was the privilege of ibe clergy, 
of ptincM,and courts, and of the great men of the earth ; it did 
not descend to the lower classes, of tlju people. The bead of 
Bocicly was in the sunshine, it.s feet in shadow." In sncb passages 
as llie»e, the true secret of writing for the masses is rereaJcil. The 
subject is strikingly developed by the happy disposition and con- 
trast of the materials, and while the reason is occupied upon the 
facta, the imaginalion is capiivaled by ihe manner in which \\vc<) 
are pnwDted. 


We looked with some cmioatj^ to lee how Lamartitie had dealt 
whh tbe duncter of XelsoD, — a name which could not be ex- 
pected to obtain much spupathy or indulgence even from the 
^tost libenl French writeix. In this biognphy the two dark spots 
<m Nelson's career are broogfat out in bnHid relief — the death of 
Caraccioli, and tbe connection with Lady Hamilton. The latter, 
prihapa, might bare been spared something of the Bererity wiifa 
which it is dwell Dponj and which is heightened by the rapturous 
descripdon of tbe cbanns of the lady. It is at least an open ques- 
tioD bow far historical biography is justified in exploring such 
incidents (aither than they are actually necessary to thron' light 
upon pobHc events : and in this instance, we think Lamartine has 
not t^en counsel of that high and chivalrous feeling which go- 
TeiBS the resl of tbe woik, and which is nowhere more prominent 
than in other pans of this very biography. Apart from the consider- 
ations si^;gessed by the domesdc life of Nelson, the sketch which 
k beie pren of him will be perused with unmixed satisfaction in 
En g land. It is fell to overflowing with his glory; it recognises 
his preat qnahties with enthusiasm; and it pronounces an eulo- 
g^um npi^n him which r«£ects infinite honour on the magnanimity 
of the writer. What can be nobler than the passage in which he 
iniroduces his panegyric upon an old enemy to the attention of 
the thousands amongst the fishermen, peasants, and workmen to 
whom his book is dedicated r " The hero whose history we are 
now about to narrate is an Englishman; he has gained the most 
memorable naval victories of modem times over our allies and 
ourselves; nevertheless we shall render ample justice to his valour 
and distinguished actions. The individual historian may be a 
patriot, but universal history- admits no personal feeling. Pre- 
cisely because it is universal, it ought to be equally impartial in 
awanling the merit and ^lory which celebrated men of different 
nations have won for themselves throughout all ages. It acknow- 
ledges neither cause, birth, nor country', and bows only to genius, 
hetuism, and virtue." Here is another admirable sample of teach- 
ing tor the people — wise, honest, and enlightened. 

It may be easily anticipated, remembering the antecedents of 
the writer, that those lustorical portraits have a bearing, more or 
less, ujH>n recent and present occurrences in France, and that M. 
de Lamartine. lu drawing pictures of former celebrities, has not 
£uled to give them an indirect application to his contemporaries. 
This is the feature which, beyond all others, has excited most curi- 
osity in France; and it will, probably, attract hardly less notice in 
England. The allusions are masked with consummate skill and 
adroitness; aud the reader should not suffer them to escape him. 
Hut an English journalist would scarcely be justified in reopening 
the questions they suggest for discussion. 

It would be an injustice in this hasty notice to omit a tribute to 
the translator, who has executed his undertaking very ably. The 
stylo is clear, fresh, and nervous. 




" Urr was tlif pfcttiot rdlow 
At fooc-bAll or at crickrt, 
Al liudling chiuc, or iiiinMe rac(% 
How greatly her woutd prick it." 

NoBLC RacB or SuEOKtH. 

Tt is curious that we should know so litOc of the origin and 
fai&tor^' of ihe interesting game of cricket. Its namo isj>robabIy 
derived from an old Saxon word siRnifying a stick, from the 
kticks or wickets set tip, a;;ainst wliich a ball i« bowled. In 
Stratt'ft charming work on " Antient Sports and Paslimes," but 
little mention is niado of the game, an<l ihcrc is no dra^iu^ of it. 
It has, therefore, been supposed, and probabW with reason, that 
it ift a fn^dnal improvement of the old play of clab and ball. 
Pape, indeed, mentions it when ho says : — 

" And M'QatuM at cricktt ui^ ilio boll ; "* 

but until the last one hundred and lifly years little or no notice 
can be fonnd of this f^ame. Unlike tieniuii, the ndes of wliich ha\'e 
remained i>omianently lixed for a loiiff period of time, the ^'ame 
of cricket lias, even in the time of llic writer, uiulergonti many 
alterations. The romid boH ling has hem superseded by the 
present Myle of bowling ; the shai>c of the bals has been altered; 
and we nurer now hear of a man making hundreds of runs, as 
was the case when tiic celebrated William ^V'nrd was a placer 
BOine fifty years ago. Indeed, ihc «»(/<*r-handed bowling must 
bare nlforded great aud iVeqtient opporlunilies of making loug and 
splendid sieipes, especially as soon as the eye got accustomed to 
the hal. This gave occasion Co Mr. Ward's long scores, one of 
them '278, and which may be found <luly registered in the Archires 
of Lord's Cricket Giountl. With tlic prusimt style of bitta bowling, 
if it may be called s<>, these long scores arc seldom attained, 
fifty or sixty runs form a good player, being generally considered 
a fair innings. The bowling alMJ is luucli SM'ifler than it used 
to be in the olden limes. 

One cannot, however, hut look back with pleasure, and perhaps, 
without H>me degruo oi rt-grut, at those by-gone times when l«ord 
Frederick Ucauclcrk, Mr. Word, and others of that stamp, used to 
aslonifch us with their play at Lord's ground in our younger days ; 
but then wc had no wicket-keeper like Box, with nn eye like that 
of an eagle, and a paw like a tiger's; or such batters as Uedgate, 
Ldlytrhilo, Pilch, or Weiiiuan. Still, however, I liked the game 
as it was formerly played, and the style of which may be seen 
represented in tiro old pictures still preserved in Lord's CncUci. 

rou XXX yt. ^ 


Cricket apr«ar» to be cxcltisirtly an English game, enjoyed 
eqxially by rieh and poor, old and youny. What vdlage has not 
its cricket ground ! am) what sight is more plearin^; than to sra 
the playei* on a fine BumiTicr^B evening enjoying ihc spurt, and 
taking the greatest interest iu the success of each player, as a good 
hit or a good stop is made ! Then there are the shouts of tho 
opposite liide when the wictict faHs and the ball is seen ascending 
high in iho air to atinounce the trinmnh, and then jiasM-s from 
hand tu hand In rapid succession till the next playtT takes his 
place at the iriclict. And then la sec the little urchins in tho 
remote parts of Oir field with llicir pcnti)* balls and bats s«l up 
for wickets— playing, shouting, running, and iuiitiiting tbeir fulhcrs, 
tinclrs, and brolhcnt, in fulloning the ru1e» of the game, clapping 
tlicir tiny bands ami poizing the ntiiiiatuve bat from ftonic culprit 
who has "been declared lo have tranegresscd them. 

1 like a 1-illagc green, niih its well-cropped turf, and rurrnnnded 
with furze buKhtft, »tmktcd broom and hare bells iu blo»80in, witlii 
here and there patches of fern and bramblis. lliere is the littlaj 
white lent in which the elders may be seen seated with tlieir pipesj 
in their mouths, and a pitcher of ale before them, discussing 
the inerils of the ]>layrr, and boasting of their own former es- 
ploits. I like to see all this, and the fine manly connirymen,. 
with their open countenances, nin?:cnlar arms and broad shoiddcrSfJ 
such as few other counirios can produce. 

Uuckinghnmshire used to be a celebrated county for gooc 
crickclers, and can boast of Bcddam, the two Walkers, RitbinAOi 
and Harris, with many others. Netting ham shiie, whci-e I huvo 
lately been slaying, i^ now, perhaps, what Hncl^inghainshiro 
fbrtncrly was, the nursen- of good players. Clatk, who is, I| 
believe, still liviug, had few equals in his day, and he had buKides 
many conlcm|M)raries nearly equal to hint. Kent and Sulfnlk can 
alM) iKiaftl of many good players. TIic mcniton of tliis taller 
couiilv n-niiuds me of a circumstauce which occurred in il a fcirJ 
ijBws ago. A match wqb being played between ihc lucn of two] 
Tillages, neither of which conbl bnaxl of a Fuller, Pd«h, or Wen-' 
man, or aucb bowlers as LUlyuhite. or Rcdgate. Stdl ihurc were 
•oaie good players amongst tbcm* one of whom was tlio wori 
(olergytnan of one of (he riUagcs, und whose tithc« were Huppo»e( 
to ba more regidarly paid than those of any of the m-ighliouring' 
l^^fT^y* in consequence of his encouraging this manly game, and 
'joining with bis parishioners in the innocent ainusenient it offered. 
'Wo therefore ronfideoily recommend his receipt to those dcrg^'- 
men M hose lithes are in arrrar. 

It was on a fine summer's afLcrnoon that the match refcrrefl 
was being ]il&yed. The render may imagine Lo himself the centre 
of a Inrgc common, which had been cleared of furze or gniss for & 
C"n*'dcr«l»lo space rnuut', the turf being soft, fine, and elastic, 
cropjKd so closely by sheep, thnt it might he compared lo a 
boauliful velvet carpel. The scenery was bcauiifiil, and an nld 
pltiturus<)ue windmill, such as Rembrunl wuuld have etched, added 
to its hiictvst. 


7t was during one of the ]>au!ie5 of tlie game, tlmt an r>M man 
■wa« perceived walkiug eluwij- limariis llm unjiiiid. He was grey, 
mind-sHonldcred, wctithcr-bcalrn, anrl ihabbity rlrotnoH, vith liitt 
1inn<U behmd his back. At knigth lio btnp[H>d, and remained 
tiitmllT looking &t iho ^atuc, kcepiii;^' hi.s e\v on it with a f;nLTC 
iindcriRtin^ aitontion. It wan howrver casv to »tc tliat he was a 
cricketer, Rnd lie was scKiii rceogni»ed by ui:c of thu pluyeris to i>e 
■old Fninex, once a very celebrated one. On being acroMod, he 
Raid tliat he was going round the couulry to teach any clubs that 
tiiiglit natit hiK a»8i»>tance, and hearing of the pre»eal uiiilch, he 
bad Blppped to sev the pl^y. When it H~as over he \ya& askt tl to 
jpre a few balls. Now, for ihe first time, ihe cbib perccircd how 
3f^tor«iit ibey irere of the nrl of bowling. Witket afltT w ickcl 
went di>wii, and it wax evident IhoL Ihe players had not noly to 
leam but to unham. They were in fact mere Tyros in the art. 
Fennex was taken home to anpper by tli.ce kiud-liearted brothers 
Among the player?. The carousal was proUinged till midnight; 
the subject of cricket was diM;iu».ed, and at length it was agieed 
tlitil the old man slionld be taken inlo the liou»e of the brothers 
aad romain tlie f-eason wiih thuni. The elTect of Ihis judiciDUH 
mewtirc tras soon vii^ibtc, bnt acquired only at the expense of 
lacerated fingers and bniised legs. The whole style of Uie play 
was alti-rod — no mow slashing play, no nmrc lung sn'inuti over the 
common — no hittin;; across wicket. All was now sioady, KCtentjfic, 
mail secure ; a reason, and a good one was assigned for ever}' 
movrment, and liy tliu end of the seasim the nicmbers of the club, 
if not all gocd players, were at lensi put in the right mi-lliod, and 
secure of itnprovemuiit. Old Feuncx is now no more. He was 
nearly blind before he died, ami incajmtdo of mntiCtiUr exertion, 
but he lofcd to wander about the bcuntiful common, the scene of 
hi« former glory. It 't% a pleasure to bo able to meutiou Uiut he 
was housed under the hospitable and eharilable roof of the elder 
of the three brothers I have mentioned, who protected him from 
vanL during hi& deeliniug }eat». 

Fenncx was bom and brought np at Gerard's Cross near Ux- 
brldge, and at the age of nineteen had l>ernmc the first cricketer 
in Buckinghamshire. He was couteniporarv with Ueildam, Harris, 
ihe two AValkers, Robinsim ami othtTs, and Sir Hi)mceMHnu v*'as 
at that lime the ertllui«ia.s|ic patron of tlie firt. Having mentioned 
Harris, it mny be rem;irked that such was hi(i skill in bow ting, that 
vhiie cripjdi-d will) thu Kont, he was itllowcd a chair. Among the 
great performances of Fonnex, was his having, when alone and 
unassisted, beat on Mitehum Common, at MU^Ie witket, the three 
greatest cricketers of ilu'ir day. As a proof also of the Biiength 
and aelf-dcnial of this veteran, it may be mcmioned, tliat at the 
dtgeof seventy-five, he walked ninety milts in three day^, canying 
«n umbrella, a binidlo of clothes, nn<t three cricket bats ; and 
spent in that time but three shillings. How few men in ibeir 
tirime could perform such a journey, in such a manner ? When 
he arrived at ihe end of hi-' joumey, all be complained a( <«;%& 
ihat the hat$ bail brviscd his side. V>*hcn Ve die^ \a«. Wu^i 


•hoold have been preserved, like Galileo's at Florence, as trophies 
of his sufferings and glories. Brolcen, distorted, mutilated, half- 
naiUess, they resembled the hoof of a rhinoceros, almost as much 
as a human hand ; but what feats hare they not performed i It 
ought to be mentioned that Fennex nused himself to such 
eminence by bis skill, that he was enabled once to keep his three 
hunters — that he was the bosom friend of Oldacre, the illustrious 
huntsman of the Berkeley pack — that he lired with Lord Win- 
chelsea and the TuiWns, but that he found in the house of a 
fiiendly villi^e apothecary that hospitable shelter and security for 
his old age, which none of his former noble and titled patrons 
would deign to bestow. 

But it is Ume now to look in at Lord's Cricket Ground, during 
the matches between the Eton, Harrow, and Winchester schools. 
The reader may fancy the writer of this seated on one of the 
benches in front of the stand, surrounded by old cricketers, ania- 
teoTS, and a host of boys belonging to the schools in question, 
who take a lively interest in the successes of their various school- 
fellows. This is evinced by the vociferous shouts and clapping of 
hands when a good strike has been made, or a dangerous ball scien- 
tifically stopped — and then the cheers when the board is put up 
showing a good score from the last player. I delight in wit- 
nessing this scene, and the fine manly bearing and gentlemanlike 
appearance of the young aspirants for fame in the senate and the 
bar — the army and navy — diplomacy or the church. What a 
promise do they seem to afford of doing credit to their schools, and 
of upholding the glory of their country. Nor are the carriages 
without their interest, for in them may be seen the mothers and 
sisters of some of the players, watching the performances of their 
sons and brothers with no small degree of satisfaction anddeligliL 
The masters and tutors, also, of the several schools take no small 
interest in the game, and as they walk about, are occasionally 
capped by their scholars and pupils. Such is a scene that may 
be witnessed annually in Lord's Cricket Ground soon after the 
commencement of the summer holidays, and it is a scene well 
worth going to. Those, also, who want to see fine play, should 
be at Lord's during some of the club matches, when they cannot 
fail to be gratified by the performances and skill shown on those 

But let us now go to the upper playing fields at Eton. There, 
seated on a circular bench under one of the noble elms at that 

})lace, we see the two elevens in full play, while some two or three 
lundrcd hoys are silently looking on. Not quite silently, how- 
ever, fur every now and then a cheer is heard for a good hatter 
or bowler. And what a wicket-keeper as I remember there a 
few years ngo ! There was but little occasion for a long stop, 
for 110 sooner had the ball passed the wicket, however swift it 
might have been bowled, if it came but tolerably straight, it was 
auro to be in his hand. He was a short, wiry bov, but I have 
aovor seen his equal either before or since. And then Hard- 
jffgr'M celebrated swipe I He sent ibe ball from the wicket in the 



fnpper plajnng fields over tlie elms on the Poet's walk. Old 
KtiiniariK know the spot. 

The Ilamblcdon Club, in Hampsliirc, was once llir most cele- 
brated oiHi in Eoglaiid, aud could boast of some uf ihc finest 
plATcrs. There was also a Club at VVhtte Coniitiit House, from 
which Ihc preseot Marylebone Club has descended. Kent, also, 
}\iin turDL'd uut some line players, as well as Sussex, which latter 
cnuniy may boast of Mr. Charles Taylor, one of the best [j^intle-i 
man cricketers ns well as tennis players in England. Indeed it 
was only a few days ago that we saw liim play a most exlraordi- 
nary match at the hist mentioned game, at the Bnghlon tennis- 
coitrt. He played thai Hnc veteran player, Totnktns, giring him 
half the court, and rcccivinj* half-^fiftetn and a bisque. Mr. 
'Taylor's play, considering Uiu size nf the court and the force of 
hi* ndrprsarv, showed such skill, oneri^y and activity, tlint I was 
perfectly astonished as weil as delighted. Toinkiiis, to be sure, is 
not so youug as he was, though he quotes his favouriio author, 
Shakespeare, as fluently as ever ; but as he had only half the court 
to play from, he had au opportunity of showing all )iis science, and 
jot Mr. Taylor stood up well to him, aud the uiatch I believe was^ 
ended on nearly equal terms. 

But to return from this short digression, to cricket. In what- 
ever port of the world Eu^Hsbmeii congregate, there this favourite 
Lfmne is sure to be played. In liio hot plains of India — in the 
(softer clitne of Italy — iu France and Germany, matches are made, 
tvcu during the progress of our army through Spain, both officers 
soldiers amused themselves with cricket. It is altogether 
Ittsively an English Ka"ie, for we never yet heard that any 
fniL-igner has been ^een to enter into the merits of it, or to partake 
it) the sport. That it keeps the young men in our various villages 
out of mischief, and out of ale-houses, cannot be doubted, besides 
contnbuting to their heallli and muscular ei^ertions. It forms 
also a link between landlord aud tenant, and between llie squire 
.and clergyman of the parish, aud thc-ir poorer uc-ighbourf«, thus 
Ibcliiiug to ceuR-ut kindlier leulinys, and to produce a friendly iu- 
wrcoursc which cannot fail to be useful both lo the one and the 
r«iber. I know a gentleman of fortune, in the north of England, 
who bas a teut or two pitched in one of his Aelds — invites bis 
tenants to make up a match of cricket — plays with and regales 
ihem, and leaves the ground in the evening with the good wishes < 
aud bleiisiags of his more humble neighbours. His popularity 
amongst them is very great, and while lliis friendly intercourse is 
being carried on, all disaffection and discontent arc far removed 
firom his doors. We wish that this practice was very geoerally 
^Jldopted, for it cannot fail of being proUuctivo of beneBcial results. 
But to return In our remarks on the game of cricket. And hero 
we maybe allowed to quote an account uf a match played in 1819, 
iBnd described iu a clever and enteruiining work called " The 
Cricket Field.'' It was between Hants and England. It was 
related by Fennex, and certaiulv gives some idea of what the ce- 
lebrated Ucddham could ^lo. *' Nir. O&baldcston, w\X\\\\\a tvcmcu- 


dontly fast bowling, was defying everj one at single wicket, and 
he and Ijambert were defying every one at single wicket, and 
amongst others they challenged Mr. E. H. Budd, with three others. 
Just then, I (Fennex) had seen Browne of Brighton's swift bowling, 
and a hint from me settled the match. Browne was engaged, and 
Mr. Osbaldeslon was beaten with his own weapons." It was then 
determined to gire Browne a fair trial. " We were haring a social 
glass," said Fennex, "and talking over with Beddham the match 
of the morrow at the Green Man, when Browne came in, and told 
Beddham, with as much sincerity as good hnmoor, that he should 
soon send his stumps a-flying. *Hold there,' said Beddham, 
fingering his bat, ' you will be good enough to allow me this hit of 
wood, wont you ?' * Certainly,' said Browne. ' Quite satisfied,' an- 
swered Beddham,' 80 to-morrow you shall see.' Seventy-two runs,"' 
said Fennex, and the score book attests his accuracy, " was Bedd- 
ham's first and only winnings." There never was a more complete 
triumph of a batsman over a bowler ; nearly erery ball was cat or 
slipped an'ay, till Browne hardly dared to bowl within his reach. 
Wisden, however, ouce bowled ten wickets in one innings. 
Eleven men were once out for a run each, and a whole side o€ 
Etonians were put out by Mr. G. Yonge for only six runs. 


Wb are beginning to know the Admiralty Square at St Peters- 
bnrg as well as Charing Cross; and the Nerski Perspective, high 
mart of Russian commerce, is nearly as lamiliar to us as Bond 
Street or the Strand. Book after book succeeds one another, till 
every bay and creek of ihe Gulf of Finland, from^ Revel to Cron- 
sladt, is far better known to a Londoner than the coast from Tar- 
mouth to the Nore. 

The Northern countries, however, have not been eqaally fortun- 
ate with the South of Europe in their travellers. They have Iwd 
no Becliford, with vivid imagination and playful wit, to throw the 
charm of his genius over their forbidding coasts ! and it is pro- 
bable that if Byron, Beckford, or De Stagl had visited tfaeao- 
countries, even their imagination would not hare warmed in the 
lukewarm sunshine of a northern summer. 

To compensate for the absence of poetical treatment, we have 
had the acute letters of Custine, whose egregious personal rmily 
did not cloud his keen perception of what was going on aroosd 
hinr. Maxwell, too, with an aHiance of shrewdness' uid fidelity^, 
has given ns Dutch pictures of Russia withottt Duteh coerseBew; 
and Dr. Lee, by a few well-chosen anecdotes, culled frooi hia 

* " Travels od the Sliorcs of the Baltic, exteaded to BTosoow." Bt 9. S.. 



Ittabic Diarf. litK indicated whil was goiug on beo^atb the cold 

ilassy Burface o( Kiisj^iuD suciety. 

'I'o this list wc have now to add anolier worl(, which, thou[{h 

. inferi-ir to Onj above, conlaiusBoine dcw inforiDatiuD, conveyed ia 

{a pliin, uiiuflucted manner. Mr. Hill, trie M-riier of these "I'm* 

Tfls on the Short;sof ihc llaltic," lias recorded bis genuine iinprc9- 

MODS duriiig a l>Ii;jrt Our id Duiiiunrk, Norway, S^cdfii, add 

RoKftia. Afler the broad colours nf Cusltur, ami the honiely 

bnuh of MaxMcll, we biivc sometimes to rcgrtl a fjiutncss and 

li:iziiH')«s in Mr. Hill's ptcturus, yvt we have occa^tioual view"6» 

[tRiniirt.-rred fiotu no fureigD cauvass, and CKbibitiiig fcooic powers 

of delineation. 

or considerable inlerc«l jost now h the description of Srcaborg^ 
vhicb we wish bad been fuller. That Gibraltar of llie North, as 
bas been called from its joining natural defmccs with all thft, 
tOBKca of art. shelters bom atlaiks goiue of the best rvssels of 
Czar, the celebrated i^un-hoiit ftolilhi, and the yellow and 
FgTven painted city of Helsingfors, with all its docks and wartlike 
t Mores. 

From Sreaborg Mr. Hill steamed for Rerel, a point piirpose>j' 
Deflected, h is said, by onr (leet-M, on account of the absence of 
idocks and stores. There is no doubt that Revel is easily n^^satl- 
' able, as the defences there are not comparable to tho^e at 8v ca- 
llorg ; and notliinf^ but the desire to spare private interests, and to 
render the war worthy of the age in which it is wj^ed, can have 
deterred Napier from the bombardment of this city. 

The description of St. Petersburg conveys little new informa- 
tioa, if we except a very entertaiiiinf; account of the Vufpita- 
tlnot Dom. 'J'hts vast F'lnndlin^ Hospiul i* condudco on 
rttich a plan, an tatrs il out of the category of bospit.dit xtntrally. 
It provides for, at the prt-scnt lime, 30,000 patient.'^, at the uxjiensa 
of five million roubles a year. The hui ding covers twenty acres- 
of ground, and the moi>t adratrable contrivances arc in use for the 
rcaiing of delicate and prematurely born children. AUogclber we 
regard this institution as one of the few hrighl S)>otii iu Ruseiaa 
social history, and the only objection we can offer is the often' 
urged one, that the greater the facility affoidi-il to crime to Touof 
people, the greater becomes tlic amount of crime. Still, whou we 
•eo thi.' barbarous tmirders of many of the illeyitimate children in 
this country, H*e arc not sure thai this single objection is not fully 

Wc next come to Mr. Ilill's'enterlaining account of Crmistsilt, 
the fullest, if wc except a very able article a few moDlhs back in 
an Kiiglisb periodical, which we bare bad. 

Crait8t.uU stands nearly equi distnnt between the coast of Fin- 
bud and the Khores of Ingria. PL'ter the (iroat, variously de< 
■crihed a* the Father and the KiiHJavcr of bis conntrr, found the 
Isle of Croiietadta swaiiip, an J coinmenced that sjstr-ni of fonifica- 
tinns ubicli ba.« b^-tn rigorously followed out by all his successors. 
> The town of Cronstadt has risen from ibis morass, till it has become 
a capital sra-port town. 









Upon the rocks commaDding the entrance of the Bay, hare 
been constructed those gigantic forts which, if we are to trust to 
Russian accounts, Btudiouslj circulated for a quarter of a century, 
are impregnable. The names of these forts, and the guns they 
are said to mount, according to the most recent and the most 
reliable accounts, are as follows : — 

Fort Menzikoff 

Fort Cronslott .... 

Fort Alexander 

Fort Risbauk .... 

Fort Peter .... 

Fort Constantine ... 

Besides these there are a number of land fortifications, (the 
island itself being well defended,) and the guns at the mole head. 
If our fleet were to make even a partially successful attack ou 
these forts, and to get much damage in the action, there would 
await the remainder of the Russian fleet (some say twenty, some 
thirty), at present screened by these fortifications. 

The account of Moscow, though very brief, is interesting; and 
Mr. Hill's anecdotes, if not purposely selected with that view, dis- 
cover a pleasanter spirit amongst the Muscorites than, after read- 
ing other accounts, we had given them credit for. The good tea 
comes in for its just meed of praise, and seems the most seduc- 
tive allurement of Russia. 

Moscow is the Mecca of the Muscovite, and claims his especial 
reverence. We believe that even the ancient Crusadei-s regarded 
the City of Jerusalem with less reverence than the modem Mus- 
covite looks upon the Holy Gate of the Kremlin, lliis, of course, 
is, in a great measure, owing to that superstition carefully fostered 
by the present Czar, and lately skilfully tunied to his own poli- 
tical ends. The answer of one of the guides to Mr. Hill indicates 
the desire to worship something which is felt, even by the lowest 
of mankind. " The Russians pray everywhere, and on all occa- 
sions." The manner in which the Emperor Nicholas has directed 
this idolatry to himself, though it may serve him politically, must 
eventually entirely demoralize the nation. 

The work closes with an account of a Russian wedding, which, 
if it had been a little shorter, we might have extracted. Mr. Hill 
saw little or nothing of society in Russia, but this matters less 
in that empire than in other kingdoms, for all travellers, who have 
mixed much in the society of the Russian capital, agree in speak- 
ing of the mask universally worn, and the set nature of the topics 
discussed. We have been pleased with this volume, as we are 
with every work which is genuine and unaffected, and even after 
the many on Russia, to which the present war has given rise, we 
would recommend to the perusal of our readers these pleasant 



Tbk usual methods adopted hy tbose who desire to extend or 
correct our kuowledge of places w'nh wliicli wc arc tinpcrfcctly 
acquaiuled, aro either to make new discoveries, or to (ieny the dis- 
corcric-!' alreadr iiiudc. Tlie lutter prucL-»s is ibe easiest uiid most 
popular. Tlio u-orld is coii&tiimioiially pugnacious, and au iiitrt^pid 
■isertion gains many advocates hy the imposiog boUtncss which 
often Btautls in the place of suund argument. Travellers in Syria 
and Palestine are particularly given to contest each other's theories ; 
itor is this to be wondered at, when we consider the remote an- 
tiquity to which they refer, and tho difficulty of a unanimous 
verdict on any given point of archaeological discu&gion. The sites 
of Uiblical towns and slronnholds which flourished in the early 
ages of (he Old Tcstamcul, will be laid down many limes befbru 
lliuy are nnivcrrally recognised. In spite of evidence wliich seems 
convincing lo its special siippoilcrs, these ivill continue to be open 
questions, as long as mau is constituted as be is at present, and 
remains tlie tenant of the earth hu examines and inbahiis. . 

Lnstycar we were startled hy the puhlicution of M. Dc Saulcy's 
narrative of his Travels in the Kast, containing uccuunts of ibo 
still visible niins of the condemned cities in the neighbourhood of 
the Dead Sea, an idenlihcalion of the Tombs of tiie Kings of the 
dynasty of Da\id at Jcrusiilem, with many olJier particulars ou 
less extraordinary than novel and interesting. Before tliu uppear- 
ance of his work he read ]>aper.s on Iiis discoveries to the learned 
French lui^titute of which he is a memljer; whereupon a wai' 
commenced in pam))ltU^(.s and periodicals, leading to a lavish 
ex|»endimre of ink, argnuient, and temper. De Saulcy wound up 
his n-pliei to his excited oppunents by saung, "it is easy to sit at 
home in an arm-chair and wvite contradictions of everything ; go 
to the spot, snd with your own eyes rcrify or disprove what I have 
»4atvd." Mr. Van do Vclde, then on Ins way to the Holy Laud, 
Iwppened tu be in Pans and present at two of these stormy meet- 
higs. His piety wa» shuckid at the indecent clamour, and his 
mind rurerted to the text which says. " in much wisdom is much 
grief, and ho that incrcascih kuowledge, increasetb twrniw.** Ho 
tliought the reasoning of De Saulcy so an ti -scriptural and absurd, 
Uiat lie wondered how he was listened to with patience. Dot ho 
received from him a copy of bis mauiuicript maps, with cousider- 
oble personal kindness and much j;enenil information. At the 
same time it is quite evident he had adopted an impression that the 
French tra^cllcr w-is not n man uf venicily and little to be relied 
on. This bias, as he proceeds, ripens into a conriction that Oe 
Saulcy is a credulous oulliusiast, a shallow scholar, a questionable 
quoa*r, a pervcrter of holy writ to suit his own mistaken vieire. 


never righl even by accident, and a1 vays nroog tlirough ignorance 
or design. This is the substance of his charges against I)e Saul- 
cy, expressed in very nnceremonioas terms. " What." says he^ 
*^ has that traveller not seen?" The accusations are heavy, and 
ought noc lo be let fonrard without the cleareEt accompanying 
proof. We shall see presently how far Mr. Van de Velde is lo be 
considered an unprejudiced investigator, and the amount of testi- 
mony by wfaicb fats own allegations are snpporled. 

The ostensble object of Mr. Van de Velde's ?i«t lo the Holy 
Lan()* was to lay down trgoiioinetricd surreys, but he seems also 
to hare be«ti ia close co-opention with the Missionary societies, 
■nd to hare watched and eiH|nired into their proceedings with 
pamc-ont iatemt. This tandency gires to bis chapters the pre- 
T^Soirfeatinr of a lengthened homily, or a sermon in two volumes. 
&3=»e TT -a dcr s war object lo the constant recnrrence of scriptiirat 
extrz.ns and i rfecDoo s . however admirable and orthodox in them- 
selves, as beri^ a tttJe ornloaded, in a wort which purports- 
«c> V sersibr ixiher ihaa exdnsiTelr theologica]. The a\ithor, 
iK'wv'Trr. i=JMB< os on twn important prants, which we receive with 
&^ crratfs: sms&ctxn. supposing die statement to be authentic r 
die Je-rs. a.-rvTtfiwr to his account, are being rapidly converted ; 
■M CTTs t^ MosIesEtes aie beginning to listen to the Gospel. 
TVraif xsservd frets, if trse, are orare ralaable as regards the pre- 
9iRt£ t:^^ 5£=E:r wl^re of die faunan &mOy, than long and erudite 
AK«iiaa:.,-c* ;« &rwttfd raics. 

M*. Vx:: i«- Tfiiae lantied ai Beiioot, and proceeded aa to Sidon,. 
w^fmr? )v Bia3r an exciirnon arrow* Moimt Lebaonn to Hasbeiya, 
w^«r^ W w^f TcfrfrvtZ *n\ Mk nearly in a state of destitution, 
sc T -u rw't ,V TBKtm^ wiiifJBt which the * highways and byways'" 
jf' l^^e^catf Kv e< .i» < r c j Hy sealed against the adventurous 
fS^-T^:. «$ t^ h.nvn* and pitriarchal Bcdosins regnlaCe their 
Vsrtisuttv » -nerraiiTa: EeroreJins by the extent and weight of 
^^r 7urs«». iV Sw w^ «e» Tyrr. fip-iB the village of Kefr-Burreim, 
)v -jurts :t« '^< Ax^'^VKc: the ci'.i Hazor mentioned in Joshua, and 
^dC :;w T«it* iK vrrr rt".«oai»T : hot he gives no description, 
^•etw tttttf atf ieciHis^ iml rwduces no evidence, "lis exact 
^ic."* >c *««^ *«wm» :■-' i»ve been Iw'* f«>r the last three hundred 
*v^.--v tBU :nK ?-' '^-i** Vfen soo^t R»r again in the righl place. 
Vlt-ruivs. «t :;racviirjw rtmfw»J« of Jowphus may hare been the 
-jii>4.- •. J.s. Mtf i*ra».-rt*** HaiWM situiled about Lake Merom."^ 
Wv i V* Vr Vm ie V<i'J«r not show how this locality of Jose- 
vA«>. *'t.i w v4 IV. KwbBKon vj»c»t« and accords, is incorrect ^ 
»y SvtuiV* c JBW ai«fx;.^T«d['T upon the ruins of a very large city, 
-, t ."T^^fvwt s:«tMx*o. coosidmWy more lo the north-east, antl 
v^.^t■-V tW :aisr. jtjre t By with the' site named by Josephns, and 
»<i v\ V^' irtefwttw^' t* W Ae Haaor of Joshua, on a long and 
A* ::»*«.■**:$*<».'« v.*''** »*=t'»> scTii»iural and profane, which bear 

• .->»-,,«►•♦*« aJ^-MJawyAfWi*** Syria aod PJwtme in 1851 and 1852.' 

. w, igt Vj» 4tr V*iJpf. tuc Lwut«i»ni Dotcfa N«iT, Chevaliw of the- 

■^ ^' . »».^--. I'nnfbhi^l unJ« the Autbur^i superintendeoce. In two 



■pon the subject. Hvaho gires general drawings of the ruins, 
•lid u minute ((roiiiKl-plan of a reranrkablc buthiini; of Cvili){>e)ia 
eimstriiction, rrry diucIi veKaibltn^ the aocicut tuuipie on Mount 
Gerizioif and an<-Uier edilire wtiit-b lie Mipposes t(i be a remiuinc 
of GiitBorrlia, on the north-caKl poipt of the Uoftd Sea: yet Mr. 
Vf>D de Vcliie I'ui^es nil this over uilhfiut alliisian or coinincnt. as 
if nil such iliseou-ry had ever been iniule by n pveci'diiifj traveller. 
The ri-adi-T who compares the two nccounls will cj.«j]y rbcide 
wbetbiT V>h is lair dealiu];. \aa t\v V'eMe litre, as in other places, 
atluiils thai it is tinposMblu to find ruins in Pale&line uithaut 
at^istaoce from the iiatires, and places much reliAncc on the simi- 
brity of m«dfrii and uiieicnL uaiiies, vbeii H euits his pur}i(>^ to 
do so; but whenever De Studcy iidopts the same guides, lie ac- 
Ottsrs the French savani of weak credulity and dt^fective judgment. 
Mr Van dc Veldt* visited Samaria, now Sebasticli, and MounC 
Ccrizitn, but he sayit very little nf the remarkablv! ruins still 
remaining at both these places, and again has no allusion to 0» 
Sttttlcy'K creviniu cxaniinatious, or the verr elabomte pia". wbicb 
lie Was the 6n>t to give, of tbo great Samaritan Temple, built by 
Sutballai mider pemiiAftion of Alexanflcr the Great. Kitlier ihiS' 
surrey and appropriutiun are autbcnlic or ims gin alive, aud ia 
ut'ilhrr case ought to be jiHssed over in silence by une who pro- 
fessi-B as a leading object of rnquirr, to examine closelv* the niate- 
mcnia of a predL-iessor. After a considerable bait at Jem^Ietn,. 
OUT author proceeds towards the Dead Sea by Hetblehctii, Hebron, 
and a part of the mute followed by He Saiilcy on his return. He 
declares lliat tJie French party had spoiled ibe IJedonins by 
inpnident librralily, and thereby increased ibe difficiiUii-s of future 
tra%'rlliTs. His own cararan conlaitied no European brsid«rft hiia- 
aflf. and wa4 limilcd alU>geIlier to nitie persons, the greater 
pniponion unpnnidud vilh arms. Hia cHCdrl consisted of four 
LHvliaKna of the tribe of Abu Daouki but that renowned scheikb, 
WBO acfooipanted Ue Saulcy, and according to \an de Vclde, 
crammed the enibusiar^tic Frenchninu with <ill niiiimer of un- 
foiiudt'-d inrcnliiinK, (Icclihod hh [K^rsonal xrn-ice on ibiit occasion^ 
m> llie liiniied "backshi-sli" comported not with his diguity and 

^Drc^wcening expccutions. 
V«u dc Vt-lde approached the Dead Sea in the Dcighbonrhood 
pi MnNadj, aud ascended liial far-fimed ruck on ihe 31st of 
■taicb. 18j2. He accti^^e^ I>c Saidcy of having added n feir 
floarwhas of his own tu the already exaggerated dcftcriplion of 
Joaephua rrapocting the ]>erilous pathway by which (he pU:fnrm 
ntuM Ihi scaled ; but he admits, at the same time, that ihi- uiider- 
laking vas most formid.ib!e, that he had to drag himself up almost 
pcr]>endicuiar stones bv the hands and feet, and that lie was only 
)ire««ntfd from a (all that would infallibly bare killed hnm, bj* 
llw liutely relief «f a botibt of ean-de-cnl«tgne, which fortified Ms 
H anrss aud ditipelled giddiness. He min- thcR- what otbent liATe 
H ae«B before him, the ruins of the fcttrcss of Ilcrud, as destroyed 
H hf the Romans luider l-'lavins Silra, in the rcijn of the Kmperor 
H Vcajta*>ian. He sars, " J( seems not known Uiat MasuXgi nift vwc 




after inhabited. Yet I snnnise that it must have been so, from 
the erident remaiDS of a small church, with a louDd chancel 
tamed to the east, just as in the case with the Christian churches 
met everywhere else in Palestine. I am surprised that neither 
Wolcott Dor De Sanlcr observed it." According to Van de 
Velde, De Saulcy sees too much at one time, and too little at 
another. But he has made a most unguarded assertion, and has 
read De Saulcj's book veiy carelessly, or he would have found 
that the French author not only mentions the building in question, 
bat has given m bis accompanying atlas of plates, a drawing, and 
two reiT minate grouod'plans of the same. This is what he 
says of it: — "Before us, within a hundred yards, is a ruin, which 
reami/n a church with a circular apsis. Our Bedouins inform 
me that this is the Qasr, or Palace. I hasten to examine it. The 
principal cbamber is terminated by this oven-like apsis, with one 
small round window-." Now, to decide that an ancient edifice is 
a comparatively modem church because it resembles one in form 
and position, is to jump at a desired conclusion with the same 
baseless precipitancy which the writer charges against his literary 
iHoiber. As reasonably might we assert that the Buddhist crosses, 
scattered over Hindostan and elsewhere, are vestiges of the more 
recent faith, because they present the symbol of Christianity.* 
Bat Mr. Van de Velde passes without notice the gate of Masada 
and its pointed arch (of which De Saulcy has also given a drawing 
and plau^ ; this, by a strange inconsistency, Wolcott pronounces 
a mixU'm ruin, while he refers all the other remains at Masada 
to the t|MH"h of King Herod. We must, on the coiitrar}-, decide 
that this form of arch is thu<« carried back some ten centuries 
behind the ^.H-riod usually assigned for its invention. There are 
the lines of Silva as clearly detinfd as when he left them ; there 
aw the cnimbhng niins of the buildings he found when he stormed 
the ramparts on the self-immolation of Eleazar and his Sicarii. 
if auvthiug can be pronounced certain, of which we have no 
itini-t pn^of. it is that Masada has never been disturbed hy human 
iutiabiijuts since that eventful period. 

Tp to this jH>iut of his journey. Van de Velde has either ignored 
Pe SauK'V. or scratched him gently; but he now prepares to close 
with hun in a dfath-stmggle, and finish him outright, even as 
lloivulfs stranjiled the giant .Anlieus. Zoar, he says, could 
never havo stL>od on the site which De Saulcy has fixed for it, — 
namely. Ks-Znweirah. The similarity of names goes for nothing. 
He adds, " The travels of Irby and Mangles, De Bertou, Robin- 
son and Smith, aud not long ago of the American investigatoi* 
under Liinitenant Lynch, might have sufficiently convinced that 
gentleman; while the Scriptures, loo, show in the clearest manner 
that /onr did not lie here, but on the Moabitish or east side of the 
Dead Sea." In proof of this. Van de Velde refers to Gen. xii. 
30-38; Isa. xv. 5; and Jer. xlviii. 34. These verses most 
certainty do not show anything of the kind, as all will see who 
* U win be remembered that, according to E&stern tradition, Buddha was 



camine them, 'iiTjfl Pc Satilcy has challenRf^d his atlvcrsarr to 
produce any other Uibliciil tt^xia that do. Moreover ht* tells him 
that he cannot read the bcripiures in ihe oriKinal Hubrcw, and is 
utterly igoorant of Arabic, uliite he, Dc Saulcy, is well versed in 
liolii lnii);iiages, which gives him a great advantage in the dispute. 
A defwiiie scliolar like Van dc Voldo, should be more cautions in 
ncruiiinK another of a want of learning. Dc Saulcy of course 
differs fiuiD Uubinsou, Irhy aud Mangles, ns to ttiu Bite of '/.oaXf 
and «c think unprejudiced readers will adunt Ids arguinentK to ha 
tounder than theirs. The opinion of Captain Lynch is of tittle 
ralue in the matter, for he coincides with the idea thnt Zoar is lo 
be fuund at Kl Mezruah on the eastern side of Uic Dead Sea, 
while he beliercs that he saw the pillar of salt into which Tool's 
wife was transforme<l at a gR-at distance from that locality, verj- far 
to ttie west, under the aailiuuunidiii of Ksdouru. If tins pillar 
exiBied at all, which it clearly doos not, ii could only he close to 
Zoar; and if Zoar is at lil Mezruah, let any otie look at the map 
and say why it should uf uccu&aiiy f'ollun', or liow it even appears 
powtblo that the other cities are hidden under the sea, according 
to the popular deliuiion. Mr. Van de V'eUlc ailjnns that he tro.- 
vor-ied the entire plain bclweoa the salt uiountaiiiH uihI the sea, 
ftnd that no vestiges n-hatever are there of the cxtcnsirc ruins 
which Dc Saulcy aud his companions declare to be those of Sodom. 
Ue says that the rotrsof lurgu stones standing gCDcrully in parallel 
lines, which do exist, are nothing more than debris from the moun- 
tain tvashed doun by the winter torrents, aud that they were 
never placed or fashioned by the hand of man. 'I'he ruins, he 
declares, exist only in the excited imagination which describes 
tliem. Bui Van de Vtlde was unaccompanied by Europeans, and 
his uiigle testimony slunds against the united opinion uf De 
Saulcy, and four intelligent well-educated French gentlemen who 
were with him, and corroborate his description. 'Die weight of 
evidence is unquestionably in favour of the French travellers, Mr. 
Van de Veldc uues on to say : — 

" Tlial M de Saulcy should have found here not only the re- 
mains of Lnildings und cities, but positively those of Sudnm, 1 
declare 1 cannot altiibute to any other source than the creation of 
his fancy.— The public seems to be charmed with his pseudo- 
discoveries. 1 have perusnl both the French and English editions 
with great care, hoping to tind something to justify Pauley's 
conelusioiis. /"Am h not the place to enter into a critical reaeiv 
of hiu work. 1 must also say, that coniradictiunK, ernmeous 
quotations, and false hypotheses are su numerous in it, that to 
repeal them all would require a book as large as lliat of M. do 
Saulcy himself. So far as regards his quotalioiia from Scripture 
and profiinc writers, I leave it to any one who feels anxious to 
know the truth lo form an opinion for himself." 

Now all tins appears lo us equally illogical, sus|ncious, and un- 
generous. No time and place van he so well fitted to receive 
evidence as those in which the accusation is made. It matters not 
to what bulk this evidence ai){,'lit extend^ the contradielions^eTrone- 


tmii quntfttiongt and fitl-v hypotheses, rcqtrro to lie dcnmnslratpfl, 
and null tliry srt', tlie u hole charge evaporat«s iiiCo mere asscrtioa, 
onBiniporlfd b_v (jroof. " Feeling salifcfied," cuncludes M. A'ati dc 
Veldc, "wiih haviiip fonnd out Oie oiTor with regard lo Sodom and 
Zoar, I have not given niyaeJf aor further iroublu in lovking Tor 
the three other cities* and indeed, one need not undertake the 
difBi-nlt and dangerous journey lo the Dead Sea lo perceirc the 
abnuniity upon which M. de Saulcy baxes ihf- discovery of iho 
pcntapolic cities." Why then did hs undertake it, if his mind wan 
previniiRly satisfieii lliat il was a work of siipcreropation? H.iring 
dcmoHithecl, as ho snpposcs, the ihcry of ihe French traveller, 
he proceeds to give iis his own ; which i^, that these condeconed 
cities, Sodom, Gomorrah, Adinah, and '/elwim stnnd in close 
neighbourhood lo each oi!ier, in the middle of the raller cf Sitl- 
dim; and that (he valley of Siddini occnpied what is noir the 
souihcrn jiortinn of the Dead Sea, iniindnted by the inking of 
the grjund al or after the deslraction of the cities, by the water 
which poured in from au upper lake formed h>ng before, and rom- 
prising about threc-fouiths of the «ea as il exists at present. Thiti 
(wulhern ijortion has an extreme depth never exceeding thirteen 
feet, and is tii some places eo Bh.illou' that it can be fnrded. 

A reference to Scripture refutes ihis theory in a moment. There 
is no mention in any part of the Bible of water ever having been 
used att an agent in the destruction, or supposed consef|urni sub- 
iDCr)>inn of the cities. Moses tells u» (Cien. xir. ii, 3), that the 
five kings of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admab. Zi.'boim, and Bela [trftich 
u Z(uir) joined iheir forces together in the Vale of Sidtlim, whrh 
ii the Salt Rea. This vorse clearly implies that what was once the 
}'ate of Sidtlim, had become the Salt Sen, when Moses wrote, 
about -lAO years after the circumstance he narrates. Itut he 
neither says nor implies that the cities of the fire kings were in 
the Vale of Siddim, or near it. It is much more likely that they 
vFCfv at a considerable distance, the kings having selected the 
Vale of Siddiiu as a convenient centnd spot for joining their 
amiicfi ; an<l this is still fnrther corrolxjrated by verse 10 of the 
same chapter, which says : — " And the Vule of Siddim was /uft 
ofilime pits, and ihc Kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled and 
fell there ; and they that remainedy/eJ to the mouHtain.'* Surel/ 
they woidd hare taken refuge in the cilirs, had the cities been 
near ihcin, and in the vale to wli'ch llu-y were dnTeu. Moses also 
tells us (G»*n. xii. 17), that when Abrrdiam retume'l afler rescuing 
bis brotlitT l^iif "the King of Sodom went out to meet him at 
the Valley of Shaveh, tehicU in the King** Dale." Here we hare 
the Ki»4/'$ Uiitf nearer to Soilom ihun the Vale of Siddim, sti^ 
existing, and nni covered by the Salt Sea when Moses wrote. The 
cxpre8»ii.n in Hebrew rrfi[>eciin^ this Vale of Siddini is very sin- 
gular and forcible. Il is lilerully, *' and the low plain of Siddim 
was pits of fills of pilch," niean:ng that il was almost entirely 
compused ol ihe.'ic pits of naphtha or biinracn. A very convenient 
place to sn allow up a defeated army, but a very nntikuly and 
meJig^.blc localiif for iho erection nf lar^c cities. 



Mr. Van Ac VcKle winds ;ip liis abscrratimis on llio tlisputpd 
iilc, hjr asserling tlial whnt Jo«epbu8 and oiber writer* say oi ibe 
rlill risible rains of Sodom and ber sister cities, bus no bettor 
fnundation tban hearsay. If be will take tbe trouble of looking 
si B*i«k I. cbap. II. of "Jfwisb Antiquities," and »t Book IV. 
climp. 8. of tbo ** Wans of iho Jews" (in tbe original Greek), ho 
will find tbit Jmtepbiis derlan-K that ubat he describes, fL-lalive 
to (hr land of Sodcmi, he bad nccn triih Ijis ou n «ves. 

De Saulcy an<l bi.« companions encamped al Afu-el-Fedikhah, 

on the itorrh-vrrKt ftide or tho Dead 8ca. Here thfjr discoveml 

the remains nf snmc extraordinary buildings, which lie carefully 

examined with the Abbe Micbun, uud h.-is minutely described, 

givtui;, as tuuial, an accurate [^onnd-)dan. TIicm: builitinf>s he con- 

tiders to bare bolor^d lo tbe scriptural Gomorrah, and, on the 

fiilloKrii]^ day, while procecdiug lo .Nabi-Muusa, pasKiul through 

the eximsire ruins of a large city, siill bearing the name of 

Kharbrt-GoDinraR. Dr. Robin»on noticed ^e firvt, but did nut 

GKamtiM them. Tbe latter he »a\v nciu ss his route lay loo close 

to the beach. Mr. Van de Velde, journeying from Mar-saba to the 

lorthrm cia«t of the Dead Sea, on bis >r»y to the Jordun, must 

r passed very near tins ppot, and he had De Saulcy's map to 

mark its exact ^wMtinn. Uni he did not care tti look for it, having 

^t-iontly satieJiod himself that Do Sautcy was not to be believed 

any qoestioii. We were, unquestionably, taken by eurpri&o 

rhen told that Gomorrnh was situated more than fifty miles Lo the 

SoTtb of Soduin, in a direct line. We bad been so babilualed 

caa]>Iu tlie two naoie^, that we persuaded ourselves ibo place*. 

liut baire stood close lo each other; but ibe Scriptures contaim 

(such erideuce of neceasary proximity, as is clearly laid down 

tbe case of Sotlom and Zoar. 

Before leavini; the ANphaliic lake, we shall find, on a com- 
fvriaoD of the routes, lliat De Saulny and his paily traversed tbe 
[shores oflliat mysteiious water tbtou^liuut three qiL-irters of their 
tti'Ht, while Van do Vtbk' touched only on two innnlnted points. 
It tbe extreme north and sotitli. If the ruins last named are not 
lose uf Gomorrah, De Sanlcy natarally asks to be told what 
ler city they can possibly represent; and this question has not 
yet b«en answered. His opinions respecting the magnificent 
funeral monuments, which he detenuiuts to be " Tlie Tomb* 
of tbe Kings,' an'l whence be obtained the sarchophagUiiOid uoir 
in tl>e Lomre, Mr. Van dc Vtlde, as a matter of conscicnco, 
dettounccfi most lustily. These tombs stand about five hundred 
^Jrmh without ibc present walls of Jeruaalem, to the north, and) 
most asMiredly cannot be e*llrd "in the city of David." if that 
cxpteasion ta to be closely confined to tbe bill of Zinn. To under* 
.Stand the question ihnruugbly, with tbe arguments on all sides, it. 
quite indispensable lo read all th&t the contending partici bar* 
whtlen in support of their own conductions. To iis, it appears cou- 
riniing that such co»ilyand exleuiuve sepulchres could only bare 
brvti erected for a royal dynasty; thatQacen Helena, of Adiabenc, 
ttsd ber son, would ncr nquire tHenty sarcopha^ fui Vvo i^nainv 



and thn! the reputed lomh of Darid on Mount Zion, never having 
been examined, and teslinK on MohuminedaD tradilion alone, is 
not tu be implicitly received ai> the burial i)lac-e of thai monarch. 
\Vc agree with Mr. Van dc Vcldc that the result mil be vcrj' satis- 
factory when the facilities for this investigation are afforded. 
Mconvhilt?, he questions and suspects the cnrrcctnesii of De 
Saulcy's quotations from ancient authors, williout shoiring vrhere 
they are likely to be in error; denies the value of his ucgatife 
infcrcMCCs as to what the tombs are not. and accuses liitu of per- 
rerting Scripture, to show what they are. " So God's word,** he 
says, " u)U8t give way before M. de Pauley's hypothesis !" Now, 
if any gircn thing is supposed to he many things, and proved 
to be none of them, surclv the circle of conjecture a& to what 
this disputed sometlung realty is, is materially narrowed, and the 
course of reasoning is 35 lugieal as it is conclusire. The perver- 
sion of Holy writ charged against De Saidcy in the question of 
the Tombs, consists in his endeavouring to show, by a comparison 
of teMs, that the term '* cily of David" was not always exdttsirel^ 
applied to the hill or fortrt^sR of Zion ; and in his saying, with refer- 
ence to the verse in Chruiiicles (B. 2, xxviii. '27), whicli states that 
King Aha/ was buricrl in JeriDralcin, that it siteins to him impossible 
to take this expression literally, considering that according to llic 
Judaic law, nobody could be buried witliin the walls. That there 
arc apparent discrepancies in several of these passages, if they are 
to be lilcrally comimred, is as palpable as t1iat pointing thcui out 
is not perverting them. Here is one direclly in accordance with 
De Saiiley's proposition as regards the tombs, and of which ho 
has not perceived the fldvantagc. It relates to Azariah, or Uzziah, 
of whom it h suid {2 Kings, xr. 7), "So Azariah slept with hi» 
fatliers, and they buried him »ith his fathers in the cUy of David.^^ 
And again, (2 Chron. xxvi. 23), *' So Uzziah slept with his fathers, 
and they buried him icith his /alhi-rsy in the Jicld of the burial 
vihich heloHged to the kin^s, for they said, ho is a leper." Dm-s 
not this passage go to prove that the burial places or tombs of the 
Itings were nut in thcfurtrehsofZion, but in the open country out- 
side the walls f If wo happened to read, or were lohl. ihat a 
celebrated general or statesman died and was buried in Pans or 
London, we should sot be in the least surprised to discover his 
sopnJclire in the cemetery nf Fere la Choise or nt Kensal Urecn. 
Mr. Van de Vcldc endeavours lo smifF out the arguments of De 
Saulcy in support of Iiis own opinion, in a sweeping cliarge of hy- 
perbolical fancies, and distorted applications of Scripture (u suit a 
particular pur]H>sc. If such im accusation is to hold good on such 
grunndK, whul arc wc to say to the constant practice of ancieutj 
fathers and modern divines, who interpret passages M'hicli ap]HM 
to be obscure or difficult, accordinf* to their individual judptment?! 
What becomes of profmuid theologians who tell us, tliis &euteuce- 
is to be received in a htcral, and ilnit in a fignralivc sense? And 
tinder what category are we to inchide the army of piously imagi- 
natire pamphleteers, who, in their zeal to eslab1i*»h their uwu 
eJacJdatioDs of fulfilled and unfulfilled prophecy, inundate tbo 



world with "Coroiug Stnigglcs," "Siipplemenls," "Antii1oles,"and 
"Qoictiiscs,'"" AniiogCfWons," "Great Xortht-m Ilpars let loosp," 
•'Gogs «n(l Magogs," " Apocalvjjtic Troul'les," " Battles of the 
Naiious," " Downfalls of Despoiism," ** Prwlictcd Krcnbi," " Falls 
of Christendom " ** Missions and Destinies," &c., Ac, &c. ; in all 
of wfaicli, texts are bondiud about and s|>arrcd with, at the plea- 
sure of ihc vriters, in the mn^t unccrcmoni>ms mtttuutr, until 
readers are confonndcd rather than enlightened, and "couoscl is 
darkened by t!ie multiplying of vain vrorcls?" 

M. de Van de Vclde commenced his ailaclts on Do Saulcy at a 
recent meciinRof the Pnlcsiini? Archtcoligiciil As!M>clation,hcld in 
Hart-»ireei, Uloomsbnry-sqiiare; and supposing ihu reports given 
in the papers to be verbally coiTei-t, he there conveyed himself in 
lan};iia};o even more iincourtfons and depreciating than ho has 
since adopted in his published volumes. De Saulcy replied 
in general b:nns, stating that a tncro denial of facts was not suf- 
ficient to prove their incorrectness, ntid engaging to do prompt 
justice on h)'i assailant as soon as the appearance of his book 
would onabltt him to j^apple uith a tangible adrenar}-. He will, 
no doubly redcrro hi*; pledge, and nand boldly up in his own 
defence. A greater outcry was mixed ugainst Bruce, but lime and 
■abBftquent investigation have vindicated the accuracy of all hia 
Bopposed marvellous inventions. 'Hie opponents of De Saulcy 
linve hilhcrto been more tioioy and du}|(nialical than argumentative. 
They appear to have siudiud lo^ic in llio school of the worthy 
scrgeuii in " Tom Jones," who when Parlridgts remarks to him 
that sonielhing he has advanced is a turn sequittir, replica, ** Vou 
•re another, if you come to that; and I'll light any man fur s 
crown." But if all this controversy ends in the establishment of 
truth, the public will be gJiiiiers, even though it may pU'aw the 
combaiaiits to exchange jioid vords and heavy blows in the pro- 
gru^ of ibe eticonntcr. 

In concbisioii, we beg to suggest to Mr. Van de Veldo that 
nildutisa and civility are more persuasive than vituperation, and 
convoy a stronger confidence of being in the ri^hl. Wc mnst 
also retuiud him of a rem.irk made by King George the Third, 
when in ccnvcrnation with Dr. Julinwn, on a celebrated literary 
quarrel of that day. " When people begin to call names," said 
His Majesty, ** I think Uie reasoning is prvtty well brought to an 

VOL. xsxri. 



ay AipncD w. cole. 

In there any greater ex-il in the whole world than war? Setting 
Qsiilc the bloodshed and barbarity of the matter^ only think what 
TTC all pftv for it ! 

If tbe reader iaiftgiucs, ou reading thus far, that I am one of the 
'^ >rancliCKtcr School," as certain disagreeable people arc called, 
who think cotton and gold more valuable than life and honour, I 
bee to nssuru hiiu that be la grievously mistnkcu. I utterly abhor 
ana repudiate the " Maochester School" and their doctrines; I 
ihould be ratlier plcastd tbau othenvisc to bear that they found 
the time^ "bard," and that they had accuniulHted u little less 
Australian metal lately wUcrcwitH to purchase some of the land 
that ibey all covet, though they direfully abuae its poaseuors and 
its cultivaturs — uutil they iiusscbs some tbemsclvcs. 1 dou't mind 
paying; my sharp of the war taxes, though, if they come in tbe form 
of an income-tax, I fear my (|tiotn of eoutribulion will be a terribly 
minute one. I nould even light, if any one would insure my life 
for the beueGt of certain tender ones dei>euding ou it, as I have 
fought before. Nay, I would even undertake to settle the Russian 
question in single combat with the Czar himself, if he would 
tolemuly proiniite (though I should like a better security) to be as 
tightly laced in, puffed and padded, when be came to do battle, as 
he used to be at the reviews in England — learing nw to select my 
Own euvtume for the fray. 

It is not tbe money or the danger that T ara thinking of when 
I comptain of what we pay for war — it is the eternal itorr that the 
subject becomes. Yon sit down to breakHist and take up the 
** Times" — "Latest Intelligence — by submarine and Knropean 
telegraph ; St. Petcrsburgb — the Czar — Omar i*acb;\ — Austria — 
preparations for war — the fleet — soldiers' wites," &c : you 
cannot get away from the subject, strive as you may. Yon turn to 
the paiHnmentary reports : eternal questions to the ministen by 
curious peoplcj who want to know all the plaus of Use Government, 
which (iovernmcnt very projicrly decline to tcllj for, if they told 
it to the mtuiber for Bumbletown, would not the "T^mes" tell it 
to the whole world, iiicludiiig Niehulas of Russia himself? You 
turn your eye ovcrthc money-market and city intelligence — nothing 
but surmises about Austria and Prussia, and "the war" and its 
effects on the fuuds. You glance nt the police reports — ten to one 
you stumble on a case of picking pockets during the departure of 
the Cttnirds. You look to the ndrertising columns — -half the 
advertisements arc headed "Tbe War"— '■ Turkey and Russia" — 
" To otficers proceeding," &c, : shirts, sausages, pi&toUj pianofortes. 



'^leacopef, tea-kettles, Litts, pcakDircs, and ovea books are tbu 

Etco books! — "Arc, tlicrc'a the rub." Nobody reads now, 
nnlea* U be a work on Turkey by a gcnOemaa never out of tbe 
'En^ltsb channel, or something about the Euxine by one who ha* 
never been beyond the Norc, or the North Forelaod, at the 
utiuoft ; or dcKcriptioiis of the BHltiu, written ia May Fair, and 
comfutcd from Gazetteers ; Sketches of the Bosphorus made at 
Brighcon; or "Onginal" Pictures of the Ilussians iu 18&3, con- 
cocted out of Kuhl'sTravi-U iu IS'iO. Shall 1 follow iu tlic stream^ 
— shall I about the war, or Turkey, or Russia? No— 
decidedly no! If the render be not bored to death with the subject, 
I am. My butcher pnitus alwut it : my baker talks to the servaut 
down the an'!» nbmit it : my tailor is eloquent on the matter: my 
wife yrdurs " Th« Uiu'^eman of the Bosphorus" from tbe circu- 
lating library : " Puuch " is as mad about the war as tbe dog he de- 
picta with the Cxar** helmet tied to his tail for a tin-kettle : clowns 
to the ring joke about it : pauornmits illustrate it : people ia 
omnibuses di-^cuas it with the most marvcltuus iguoraacc of history 
and geo^p^phy : in f:ict, the country has become a set of war> 
bitten ouiaincs, boring one another to death on tlic iutunuiuable 
auljject. Shall I follow in the stream? — again I say no! So,, 
g<K>d reader, " lend me your cAra," n« M^rc Aiitony aays, and I 
will whisper iuto them a " Talc of my Landlady." 

^fra. Duffles, loy landlady, is a M-idow in the prime of life — 
judging according to the well-kuowu taatc of his huuented Ma- 
jcaty tieorge the Founh. She is rather florid than otherwiae, 
though her widow's cap (for she i» a widow, and would not think 
of Imuag off the cap for the world) tones down the exuberance of 
her colour. I call her stout. Mrs. Biiffles admits that she is of 
" full liubit i^ and certainly (if T may be allowed so bad a pun) 
bcr habits look very full indued nheu she is in them. The man 
on the second flour, who is ratlitr coarse, pronounces her the 
" crummiest old girl be ever reckoned up." Mra. BufQea ia de- 
cideflly stout. 

She hits a strong partiality for single gentlemen. Kot that I 
mean to breathe the slightest wliisper of scandal against the fair 
fiune of ray landlady — Shadt-g of Lucretia and St. Ursula forbid 
itl I merely mean that shr h very fond of single gentlemen at 
hdgera. Aa she very correctly observes, " they are so easily dona 
for:" while double gentlemen — married men, 1 mean — arc under 
tbe ajiecial guardianship of their better halves, aud want a deal of 
" doing for." But this tii«te of Mrs. BulHea for uuproteclM 
malw lias lately received a check, »hich accounts for the ad- 
luiftiioa of myst^If and my incumbrances iutu the busoiu of bur 
famih-, viz. — her tirat floor apartments. 

WliL-n yir^. Bufflcs has any rooms to let, a little ticket to that 
effect appears in bcr parlour window. On these occasions should 

iiy gentleman chance to knock at the door, and inquire what 
the apartments vacant, he is first answered, " I'll call Mi&i^UA,'' 








by the excited-looking servant giH, wbo opens the door in a black 
net cap, a dirty apron^ two streaks of soot on her face, and re- 
markably red elbows. Before she can call "Missns" that lady, 
who has been listening behind the parlour door, appears in all the 
gravity of her widow's cap, and observes : — 
"They are for a single gentleman, sir." 

Should the unfortunate applicant chance to be a married man, 
and still more should he happen to possess a small family, he 
forthwith feels ashamed of himself in that au^st presence of 
chastity, and slinks away, mnttering — " Oh ; thank you — ah !" and 
with a melancholy attempt at a smile on his countenance. But 
shoold he actually be a bachelor, be announces the fact as if he 
had reason to be proud of it, and a smile appears oa the land- 
lady's face. 

On a recent occasion a gentleman appeared at Mrs. Buffles's 
door, and made this announcement. He was requested to follow 
Mrs. Buffles to the first floor. She threw open the door, and 
waited the effect of what she denominates the " Cou-deal^ for she is 
proud of the first floor front. The room has a remarkably gay- 
looking drugget in imitation of a genuine Brussels. There are 
BCTeral pieces of crochet and netting on the chairs and soFji, a 
showy looking-glass over the mantelpiece, and very white curtains 
in the windows, so that the ensemble is striking to a weak-minded 

"Very good," said the gentleman, who wore a brown wig and 
green spectacles, a low-crowued hat and buff gaiters, aud was 
altogether peculiar in his style and costume. 

"Would you like to see — where — the sleeping apartracnts?" 
asked Mrs. Buffles, with a blush ; at least it was quite evident 
firom the tone in which Mrs. Buffles spoke that she meant to bUish, 
though her complexion being unfortunately rather florid (as before 
observed) the blush was unable to make itself specially visible. 
" ril take a look," said the gentleman. 

"Jane! show the room," said the landlady to the red-elbowed 
servant girl, who did as she was commanded j for if you suppose 
that ilrs. Buffles would go into a bedroom with any gentleman in 
the world, with or without green spectacles and a browa wig, you 
have formed a verj' wrong estimate of Mrs. Buffles's character for 
extreme propriety. 

"ThevMl do," said the gentleman, returning from his survey; 
"what's the rent?" 

This was a question Mra. Buffles never answered directly. She 
had a dozen little remarks to make first — about plate (albata), 
linen (calico), and attendance (red-elbowed girl) ; besides firing (a 
shilling a-day), and boot-cleaning (boot-smearing, properly), &c'. 
Finally, the items had to be reckoned up, and they came to about 
twenty-five shillings a-week, besides the fires. 

" That'll do," said tlie gentleman ; " I'll take 'em." 
Here Mrs. Buffles cleared her throat aud smiled, aud insinuated 
somethmg about always wanting " references." 



**I never give Ruy,'* say* tlie geiitlcnian ; "woa't this do?"^ 
and he pulled out several bauk iiuiuii hdcI n little heap uf gold, and 
told her to help herself to a couple of months in ndvnncc. 

Who could wnnt refereiicea from $ucb a gentleman as tbat?-^ 
Ikln. BufBes was perfectly satisfied. 

The gentleman in the green spectacles, hroTPn wig, and low- 
crawaed hut and buff gAitcnf came to hie new ly^engapcd rooms 
that very evening. He frnvc h'm n:inic simply " Mr. IJobbs." He 
broutcht no luggage except a small cnrpei-bag, and he ordered 
vhaL )IrB. BufUes c:illcd "quite an elegant diuncr" from a neigh- 
bouring tavern, incluiiing two dozen o1" wine from the same place, 
for all of which he paid immediately, with tMuncthing very sntisfae- 
torv in addition for the waiter himself. Mrs. Bullies saw that she 
had obi aincd a perfect jewel of n lod^r, and only lamented that 
she bad Dut asked thirty shiUings ioatead of tweuty-fivo fgr her 

The new lodger was of eccentric hahiti. He never went ont 
Untd uighl-timc, though in oth;.'r respects hu appeared to enjoy life 
greatly. He nto and drank tlic bent of everything that could be 
procured, and perhaps he occasiotially imbibed rather more than 
was perfectly good for his health. His favourite bevernge was rum- 
aud-vatcr, very hot and very strong'. Must we rchitu how Mrs. 
BulHes became acquaintud with this fact? — as it is important to 
oar tale, we fear ve must. 

Airs. Bufiles was n lone widow, and Mr. Dobbs a solitary 
liaeuelur. No one ever culled to see liim, and he told the landlady 
that he never let anybody know where he lived. It naturally 
occum-d that Mra, Buttles had sometimes to see her lodger on 
domestic matters; wheuever she did eo, Mr. Dobbs always 
requeatetl her to take a scat, and made lumitelf so agrcculile that 
Mrs. Uutflcs used to be terribly surprised at the length of time 
ahe had allowed to pass nir:ty iu the pleasiug converse. 

Ou ODC occasion .V[ra. RuQIes entered licr lo(l;j;er*« room in the 
creuiii^. He had his green spectacles on as usual; indeed, the 
red-elhuwed girl believed that he slept in them, aud was positive 
he washed his face in them. He had a buttle of rum ou the table 
and a kctllu of boiliug-wiiter ou the fire. 

"Take a scat, Mrs. Butlles/' said the lodger; aud with a little 
hesitation she did so. 

** Take a ginss of rura-and-watcr, Mrs. BulHcs," said the gentle- 
man ; Mni. Itutlics could nut think of such a thing; she never 
touched Huythin^ stronger tlian tea, and never hod siuce the death 
of p»or B., meaning the depnrtcd Mr. ButUcs. 

" Long duadj ma'nm^ thuuld bui— , I mean Mr. BuQles''" asked 
the lodger. 

" Sis yeat^," said Mrs. BuGlcs, with a sigU that actually made 
Ihc hairs of Mr. Doljhs's brown wig lluuer. 

" Vou shouldn't wear weed* now, Mrs. BufHes — for six years," 
said Mr. Dubhs, lu an expustulnl4>ry tone. 

" Oh I 1 couldn't think of leaving 'em off," replied the widow, 
with a grave sh-iic ofliic head. 

"Atf uubecomuig/' said the gentlcaum; "not Wat \>4ft'i ^^'A- 


yomr looks, Hra. Baffles, becanse that would not be so easily done; 
but thcv don*t gire them a fair cfaane^ yon see;" 

Mrs. Buffles smirked and blushed, and thought what a rerj nice 
man Mr. Dobbs was, and she never noticed at aH Ihat he was 
mixing a glass of nim-and-water for her, and nerer was more 
surprised than when she foand it passed over to her. 

"Now, Mr. Dobbs, I'm sure I couldn't drink it I" sheexdaimed, 
but very faintly, after all. 

" Oh, yes ! yon can — only try, jast to oblige m*,** replied Dobbs, 
insinuatingly, and he looked so that Mrs. Buffles cast down her 
^es, and thought him rea]ly a delightful man. 

Looked so I — but what had become of the green spectacles ? 
Mr. Dobbs had actually taken them off while talking to Mrs. 
Baffles, and displayed a pair of remarkably brilliant, unquiet, grey 
eyes. What a pity he wears those nasty green spectacles t thought 
Mrs. Buffles — and with such handsome eyes, too ! 

The landlady sipped the mm-and-water, and, strong as it was, 
and hot, she nerer even winked as she swallowed it, which was 
remarkable in a lady who never drank anything stronger than 
tea. The nim-and-water was exceUent, and Mrs. Buffles con- 
fessed it. 

"It's the best drink in the world — nothing like it, ma'am, 
Tve drunk it these thirty years, at home and in the West Indies." 

"Have you been in foreign parts, sir?" asked Mrs, Buffles, 
who thought a man wlio had been in the West Indies sometliing 
of a Hon. 

"My estates are in Jamaica," replied Dobbs. "I was born 

Mrs. Buffles was more than ever delighted with her lodger — 
he had "estates;'' and there's something very imposing iu that 
word, especially wheu it's uttered by an Irish gentleman, with an 
O' before his name, or a West Indian with no liver. 

"You lead a lonely life, Mrs. Buffles," said Mr. Dobbs, after a 
pause, in a tone of deep sympathy. 

The landlady let off another sigh that nearly blew the candles 
•ont. When a very stout lady dues sigh, it 's remarkably like a 
momentary hurricane. 

" So do I," observed Mr. Dohbs; and he tried a sigh too, but it 
was a weak one, after the landlady's. Mrs. Buffles looked pityingly 
towards him. Mr. Dobbs's grey eyes twinkled with a thoaaaud 
fires. Mrs. Buffles looked down, and thought him a charming 

Each sipped the rura-and-water, and there was silence for a few 
seconds. The landlady's hand rested on the table; something 
touched it; she did not move; something held it, and gently 
pressed it ; Mrs. Buffles's black bombazioe heaved up and down 
tumiiltuously above the waist. 

"Dear Mrs. Buffles," whispered Dohbs. 

Mrs. Buffles thought she should have sunk through the floor, as 
the afterwards declared. 
'^Ik-ar Mn. BuSSes," continued tbe lodger, m th« softest of 

% "tf«n jroa aot be induced to tlirow ttiose -wcftis^ 



Could TOO not, for mj/ sake f Hov lovely yoa would be in a 
bridal costnine !" 

Tlic Inndlndy trembled with cmotioD, muttered wmelhipg about 
faintiug, and g»ve a lurch to oiiu side as if shu bad determined on 
falling out of her choir. Dohba sprang foranrd and caught her in 
his anus — how could be do less i }}ut he did a great deal more 
toOf vhich I need not bint at, furtlier tlinn to mention that little 
sound* mii^bt have been beard like those Trhich young ladies cm- 
ploy to n pet puppy or a cniiaiy. 

Mrs. Biidlca did not fnint — hut she did consent to smile upon 
the suit cif >[r. Dubbs. ^Vhen she left liin room that evening, she 
could not, fur her life, recollect precisely what had taken her 
there. Sho dreamt of Dohbs all night, forgot all about the de- 

Ert«d B., burnt Iter widow's cap ncit morning, and felt ber»elf a 
ppy woman. 

About twelve o'clock next day, two men called and asked to see 
the landlady. Mrs. Bufflcs begged them tu walk into her parlour. 

"I believe you've got an old gent lodging here?** said one of 
tlie men. 

Tha landlady wna rather indignant at her intended husband 
being denominated "an old gent," and replied that a uiiddlo- 
aged geutleoiau lodged on bcr first floor ; and what did tbcy please 
to want with hiia ?" 

"Only just to ha%'e a look at him — we 're old friends — it 'a all 
right/' aaid the man who had spoken, and whu tried tu look agree- 

" But Mr. Dobba never receives visitors," replied the landlady, 
who rccutlected that her lodger had declared that he never let his 
friends know where he lived, Hiid aho had just the least fear in 
the world that the visit might bode ill to her own prospects. 

" AVe really fau»t see him," said the man, " and weM mthcr do 
it qnietly ; but it must be done one wny or another." And be 
•poke in such a mytterioiisly authoritntivc tone, tlint the laudliidy 
was completely awed, and afraiJ tu ufTcr any further opposition. 

She led the wny to the drawing-room, and threw open the 
^oor. Mr Dobbs was seated in the ca»y chair, with the news- 
paper in his bands. When he saw the two men closely fulluwing 
the landUdy, he dropped the piiper and remained motionless. 

** Aha 1" cried one of the new-comers, in quite a pleasant and 
facetious tone. "Aha I so liiere you lire, ch? We've found you 
at Inst — couldn't get on without you, nohow.*' ,\nd he grinned 
and chuckled with evident delight; while the landlady felt greatly 
TClioved, and began to smirk and smile. 

Mr. Dobba sst still : his green " specs " concealed bis eyes, but 
his mouth twitched unpleasantly, and it was with a terrible ell'urt 
he grunted oul — " Who iire yon, sir?" 

** Lor' bless bis heart j he duu't know ua!*' cried the facetious 
nan, grinning a^in. 

"That 'II do, Tom," cried his companion; "Inrkin'a no nse 
now : wo must go to business." 

"CertMD}j-j" rephcd Tom; and stepping gmvcA^ nig \a "^x. 


Dobbs he made hitn a bow, and aajing, "Allow me, sir," he 
shipped oft' Mr. Dobbs's apectnclea with one hand, and his brown 
wig with the other. 

"What the devil do you mean?" cried Ddbbs, trying to look 
virtuously indignant, but failing grievously j while Mrs. Buffles 
■tared in amaze at seeing, instead of the bald head she expected 
to behold beneath the wig, a capital head of black curly hair. 

" Come, come, Mr. Simmons, alias Slippery Bob, c/toj Mr. 
Dobbs," said the grave man — "No row, ^you please, or I just 
clap on these here : we understand each other;" and he produced 
from his pocket a pair of handcuffs. "You're my prisoner, 
Mr. Simmons," tapping him gently ou the back. 

''What authority?" began Dobbs, faintly, while the landlady 
commenced the usual preparations for hysterics. 

*' Oh, here 's my warrant, all right enough," replied the man, 
producing a piece of parchment, while the facetious companion 
quietly whispered to the landlady that she'd better put them 
things (hysterics to wit) o£f a Uttle, as they hadn't no time just 
then to see her through 'em all properly." Mrs. Buffles muttered 
" wretch !" while Mr. Dobbs sat down again and began to blubber 
like a great schoolboy. 

"What does it all mean?" cried the landlady, adopting the 
facetious man's advice of putting off the hysterics. 

" SmuggHu'" was the short reply. 

" Has Long Ikey peached?" inquired Mr. Dobbs. 

"He has," replied the grave man. 

"Then my goose is cooked." 

"Not a doubt about it," was the consolatory answer. 

" I'm afraid Slippery Bob has been and robbed you, ma'am," 
whispered the facetious man, with an air of mock sympathy. 

" Robbed me ! — gracious goodness, how ?" asked the widow. 

" Something here" said the man, placing his hand on the left 
side of his waistcoat, and turning np his eyes like a Little Bethel 
Preacher in the fifteenth head of his discourse. 

" Get along with your impudence !" cried Mrs. Buffles. 

" Had capital grog, no doubt," said the man, " prime rum as 
never paid duty — and plenty of it, eh ?" 

Mrs. Buffles* thought of last night, sighed, cried, " Who 'd have 
thongiit it?" and left the room — wishing she hadn't burnt the 
widow's cap. 

But why go on? Mr. Dobbs, alias Slippery Bob, alias Mr. 
Simmons, was a notorious smuggler, and had lately carried on the 
.game so extensively that a reward had been offered for his appre- 
heusiou. In spite of his many disguises he was taken at last, and 
Mrs. Buffles alone muurned for his fate. 

She l)()uglit a new widow's cap^hecame shy of single gentle- 
men, and by taking me in, let slip into print this " Tale of my 



Asy illuftions which the traveller might have cherished wiih regard 
ta tlic comfort and cleanliness of ilm^ in llie East will assurt-dly 
be dispelled on his nrriral at Khan<Mitrnd, the first haliing-ptacc 
on the route to Damascns, by way uf Beyrcmt. The wjiI1« ol these 
wretched inns are full of crevices, and every portion of lIic roof 
»ceins to be giving *ay; they arc divided iuio rooniR, in which 
travellers, beasts of burden, and i>hci'p are Imlgcd, in the inoHt in- 
timate and friendly manner j — ibis cxacUy cuuBtitules an Oriental 
Khan in nil 'u& pcrfecLian. 

The bill of fare, too, docs not present anvthinK inncb more at- 
tracuve. for it consists only of uic»l-i-akcs, that even the stomach 
of an ostrich^ or thai of nn Arab, would scarcely be able io digest: 
cf c^K*, of C'ffce, of nanjiiiUua, and, on ihe most fortunate "cca- 
»iou&, of fniit and fowls: thexo jire all tlie culinary rescurccK which 
the cararauM-TV possesses for incrensin;; the traveller's appetite. 

The fact of uiy being a Kunipean. fotluualely secured uic a room 
to myself; but before I could c^Iublivh myself in it, tt was neces- 
sory to turn ont two white mules, who had taken up iheir quarters 
there, a task which was iml without some difliculty. My host, him- 
self, in tlie hope of receiving a backchich, thai wonderful Aladdin's 
lamp, which every traveller carries in hifi waistc nat pocket, actually 
IHished his civility so titr as to bi-gin sleeping the iloor of the room 
in which I was to pass the night; but Hercules atone could havo 
acciiinpliebcd so superhuman an undertaking, and this attt-mpt 
at cleanliness raised such heaps of foul dusi, that I was obliged 
to entreat my ho^t to relinquish hie good inieDliuns, and to leave 
tilings in their primitive tilate. 

A twclvtf hours' journey on liorscback, over steep and rugged 
roads, possesses infinitely mare uurentic properties than any pre- 

tiaration of optuni ; so, after a frugal meal, 1 threw myself on my 
iltle camp bod with considerable pleasure, aud slept till sunrise, 
from ututr exhaustion. The scene presented tu my eyes, on waking, 
wjs somewhat uoTcl and ludicrous : the three mules, which had Itecn 
turned out for my accoinniodiilion, had tnken adv»ut.>ge of the 
durknei^s of uiglii in steal ipiicEly back again, and were lying down 
near my Iwd enjoying, like true Sybarites, all the cutnrorts of re- 
pose ; a few sheep, also not quite so bold, were grouped mund ihe 
opening which served fur a door to my den. As tlic &uu cast its 
rays more distincUy over the room, 1 t>ccamc aware of a thousand 
details, which, owing to sleepiness, had entirely escaped my no- 
tice the night befuie: now I saw lizards, with golden scales, spread 
out uptm the wall, as well as insects of every form and col»ur ; at 
length I diHcuvered that an eiioruiouA rat was fixetl on my right 
boot,aDd was doing good oxeculion with his leuLh. Itore myself away 
firam this charming society with somewhat of miliiory prumptiiudct 


JtfruTw -3ba ^on. hod shown its disc above the horizon, I was on 

fc,-* snuaaL che rucks and precipices of Lebanon. 

-Je &rcKB dt Damascus, on first acquaintance, do not impress 

[ T3>-aiItir at aH pUasantlj ; they offer nothing agreeable, either 

* *V>s jr ioiitn, and are, in fact, narrow lanes, literally quagmires, 

*aii:a wmd between yellow crumbling walls, and are full of pools 

4C aokeminc wwer and heaps of filth, such as in civilised countries 

^aaw anriy gm rid of. The passenger meets, at every turn, with 

U* •^Tc*Hii of aniiuals of all sizes, from the ase to the mouse, so 

■k oe caanat move safely along without the greatest caution; 

***- *^* w« should have to declare that these are some of the 

fncipal tVunves of the " Pearl of the Eatt." 

-^^■•"W advise you, my good friend, who have just quitted the 

"••w T-«U de Grand, or Regent Street, to open your eyes wide, and 

to V'^'k your way most carefully : first beware of that tottering wall, 

™wn i«M.^ ss if it were only prevented from falling by the mercy 

^ 'W prophet ; beneath it is a deep abyss, into which the least 

feuae step migfat precipitate you; make haste now and raise youi 

c*Be« for this troop of mangy, vicious, and half-fiunished dogs 

fcUow rour steps with an eagerness which proves that they 

are desirous of making a more intimate acquaintance with the 

cftlvi's of your legs: turn round now directly, for here come an 

ass, a horse, and a camel, with so heavy a burden, that the wall 

nusi certainly crumble beneath its weight ; and now hurry past 

that uiass of filth, which must be nameless, and you will then find 

that you have reached the chief Bazaar which siurounds the 

Mi^ue of the Otumiades. 

Ilerv a thorouj;hly eastern picture will reward yea for all your 
«xertions. First look attentively at the culinary resonrces of the 
pkMv : therK* is an ass carrying two tubs, full of beetroot, and cu- 
CttuiWr^audet^-plant, steeped in vinegar; if you prefer sweets, just 
sijnuty your Uislv to that turbaned merchant, who is sitting before 
a i^Mo v'ovorv'd with a copjHT tray, upon which is spread an eoor- 
UHnts " m^n^t," Tliis cook and confectioner, who sits in the open 
air, t>r ralhor in the open Itazaar, and cooks and makes pastry in 
full vi«-w of iho pa»«tui}:er$, may justly inspire confidence in the 
lui^i fastiduius of stomachs. At first you would imagine that this 
gt^nilfdun hfld a {;uitar: but no, it is a leathern bottle, lull of a 
xefti'shi:}; bvvor»{^.\ which he sells for so many paras a glass. 
Look notv at this coflV-o-house, which makes your mouth water at 
the thought of ihe delicious mocha and pipes which it offers you. 
Notice, too. this humble Tortoni, who pays another tribute to the 
wants of nature ; tht-n let us gaze around a little, and see where we 
arc and what is near us. A long and lofiy gallery is spread before 
our eyes, and little shops pmject from both sides of the wall ; these 
shops contain the productions of eveiy species of human industiy, 
ironi the genuine pastiles of the Seraglio, the snuff-boxes in box- 
wood, to the soft velvety Persian carpet and the rich silk mantle 
embroidered with gold. 

The Turkish merchant, grave and meditative, with his pipe in 
his mouth, sits in front of liis shop ; and instead of endeavouring 



I are 



to attract ibe lounger by voice or manner, lie seems rather to weari 
the ttpj»caranco of a jealous dragon, placed there to repress and-' 
ptniUh all indiscreet curiosity. Perliaps, liowei-er, this fecUug oC- 
ut»tni&l is not altogether without foundation ; for the ernwd wliicli 
prcMcs through iheMi large arcades is composed of such a strange 
raiXOire, that protwblv very imperfect ideas of the resiiect due to 
property are entertained by many among the multilude. At ono 
mnrncnt yrai may observe the Araba of the Desert, with their 
Ke/HfiS/t of brilliant colonni, their thick while mantles, striped with 
bUck, Uieir red boots with stei-1 heels; at anutlier you see Albanians, 
who to-day are soldierB, to-ninrrow bandits, and whom ynu would 
oot desire to meel on a dark night and a lune)y spot, on auy ac- 
t. Hera ym come upon Turks, gcunina Turks iu rauslia 
cashmere turhiiuK, iu lar^,'*: truwsers and tunics of ibo most gny 
colours, oi di;tical« itrcen, rose, and azure ; such costume, ia 
siturt, which only exiitii in the h'storical rucollectiou of Europe; 
and which, in fact, it would be necessary to traA*eI across the moun- 
tain* of Lebamm to see it in all iia ori^iiality. 

Id spile of all that has been said nf the slavery and captivity of 
the Turkish women, the most beautiful part of the creation i-s not 
tlu* IcaAt busy, nor t})e least numerous, iu the crowd which daily 
bm«grs the alleys uf the Duzaar. You may ^ec them passing 
a lo n g like ghosts, wra|)ped up in their while sheets, and their faces 
oorered with a thin handkerchief. Note how totteringly they walk 
in iJwir light yellow dippers; at first this costume is most oflbn- 
aivc to the eye, for it confounds beauty »ith ugliness, riches with 
^o««Tty, and the bloom I'f spring-time wiili the furrows of winter; 
aAvr a time, however, habit reconciles you to it, and you end by 
diiiingni^hing the palm of beauty with r.s mnch accuracy ns you 
CouUi do in lEegenta Park or in the Ch amps- Kly sees. 

1 liare given only a rough outline of this Arabian Nighls' scene, 
in which at one mnmrnt you elbow a lilerary man from llassnnih; 
at ariother a merchant fnun Snm-irciim!, ^^ho inuves itlon;> in the 
midbt "f i>ld store-shops (for the Turks have also their store-shups) ; 
one vif these shops, perhn|>s, conceals Aluddin's wonderful lamp. 
A volnme, however, would nt't be sufficient to sketch the wlirtio 
oratna: to paint th^u veuerahtc Aga with uliite beard mounted 
n his Ku\ran, from whom the crotv<l kcrps a respectful dis- 
tance ; those cameU, wliit-h have crossed the uh'>te desert, and 
are bringing to the >ff:K9.i Kliau the ia:!rvelU)US prodiictiiuis of 
Persia and Caslinu-rc; this hnrtm ; ihe old mother, the young 
Womm, the beautiful little children with lily ami rose complexion* ; 
and iho eunuchs, armed » ith sabres and piritols, uiuler n hosu escort 
ifaey proceed; and last of all, that nortliy consn). reminding us of 
EuTii|w. Observe, he in preceded by two Ctvn», carrjing two 
ulver-headed wands, and bi-ars himself as majestirnlly as any one 
May he supposed to do who holds iu his cnal-t.ii) pockets the 
decree of pt-ace or war. I cannot avuid noticing another ciiarac- 
leristic feature ; and then 1 sh.iU hare dono nnth the subject. In 
all largo European cities, blind people lead a life of ease* some- 
•InMs by standing like statues on a bridge, dtc, or by giving rent 


to vome melaocholj sounds from an old clarionet. In the East, 
on the contraiT, they take part in commercial affairs, and make 
themselves osefol to society bj selling chick-peas and grapes. It 
is, faoireT'er, a sad sight to see these poor creatures with sightless 
orfos weighing out to their costomers, and counting out their gains ; 
Dot the least extraordinary thing, too, is, ihat in these transactions 
the advantage certainly is not on the side of those who enjoy the 
use of their eyes. 

Nothing can be more broken down and miserable in appearance 
than the houses of Damascus. You enter tbem by a little low 
door, you pass through a long gloomy corridor, and immediately 
a completely eastern picture presents itself to your eyes. Here is 
a coort pared with large flag-stones, in which flourish abundance 
of citron and. orange trees, and large marble basins pouring forth 
sheafs of pure Umpid water. The wall is covered with arabe!>ques 
of the most brilliant colours ; then there are large gilded rooms 
fitom the base to the summit, where the soft murmur of fountains 
is heard nigfat and day. The poeCs fancy has never yet invented 
anrihing more smiling than thisabode : at one glance you compre- 
hend all the delights and luxuries of a life of Asiatic repose. But 
there is the inverse side of the medal, said an European exile to 
me, in whose society I was admiring all these splendours ; in the 
vinter, when the north-wind blows across this wall, you would 
willingly exchange these Alhambias for a well-shut garret, in vrbich 
you would not stand in need of fur to preserve a small portion of 
your animal heat. 

One word more about the Alhambras. I went one day to visit 
a worthy Mussulman : the first words of compliment had scarcely 
been uttered, the coffee served, and the chibouques, which so 
admirably take the place of conversation, handed round, when a 
tremendous cracking noise was heard. X instinctively raised my 
haiHl$ to my head, but my host remained perfectly tranquil; nay, 
he scarcely deigned to cast a look of interrogation upon the 
affiightcd servant who made his appearance at the door, and told 
us in a fullering voice, as my interpreter informed me, that part of 
the house had fallen down. Bismillah (God is great], said my 
host, and st-nt forth enormous whiffs of smoke. It will be readily 
ima>;iiH-d that after this 1 did not unnecessarily prolong my visit ; 
tliinkini;. not without some foundation, that the fatalism of the Os- 
lunnt) (>eruiitted too ready a sale of his bones ; at least of mine. 

Tlu' (lartU'iis and country of Damascus have not been too much 
e^ttoIUd ; n slight cultivation of the way-side would create a perfect 
sconu of enchantment. On all sides are streams, large trees, and 
rich vegetation ; enormous walnut-trees, peaches, and apricots, 
which, wlu'u tlicy bud, produce the most lovely effect. Then there 
•n^ lii'lils of clover, of Incem, of wheat, and hemp, but not a single 
bttunno or pahn-trce to be seen ; nothing, in short, which shows 
that the desert stretches immediately beyond the horizon. You 
might fancy yourself in the most fertile parts of Normandy, were 
it not thattliu village costume, the blue blouse, and cotton cap 
replaced by picturesque turbans and brilliant-coloured tunics. 



Eiirfipoan trnrcllcrs are not much acquainted wiih tlie counlrv 
arotiiKi D;iniaM:ti5 ; for they (rust to ntporl, and Ho not venture 
ihere OKcept lliey are well iinned and under a jjood escort. This 
U now altoRether useless, for the habits of the Turkish population 
have lattcrlr undergonu a complete chauf^ ; tvenlv years a;^ an 
European (iid not dan' to mnkc hi« appearance in the holy cilv in 
his mrn co^tnme, and Christians were coutinually Ruhjerted to 
insn'ts ; at the present time a great coat may be disphived in ib« 
tnjrlsi of tl»e Bazaar without the sliRhteitt danger. The Christians 
havf their chnrchcs nnd their processions in tlie streets, hut never- 
theless they still presenu the conviction that they are as much 
pcTsrcuted n*; their fathcni wtiru in ll)o lime of Diocleiinn or the Brst 
Caliphs. This circnrostance ha* given rise to the most olumiinK' 
atoriea ; and the most express advice has been given to travellers 
not to veninrc into this dangcrouii Eden nnder pain of death, of 
captivity, or at Iea5t of (he bastinado. I feel it a coiiscieiilioiw 
duty on my pari to protest against tlieso evil reports, and to pro- 
mise the advenitinms pedestrian perfect security, and much inoro 
frcvdom fruni restraint than ho could enjoy in Europe; such as 
hnniing quails on foot, for example, in the harvest- fields, nr eating 
the ftpricow, poaches, or grapes without meeting anybody to call 
bim in accntmt. 

Thanlis to the attentions of M. G . . ■, chancellor of theFrcnrh 
Consulate, a most ngrecnldo nnd well-informed European exile, 
I was enabled to witness the distnhution uf prizes at the school of 
llio Fr<^res dc Saint Vincent de Paul ; and I give here all tlio 
puticulars of this very originul scene, in which tho progress 
of civilisation is developed on Asiatic ground. A very long and 
rcTV musical niass, of coni-sc, opened the ceremony; tho church, 
with its Tvimden benches, its gililed virgin, its china-viL<>vs filled 
with anifiiial floivers. wore so cuupletely tlie air of it French viU 
lage churt-h. that had It not been (or the ])ictnresquc coslnmo 
of the population which filled it, I should ha*-e fancied myself at 
Scine-et-Sl.imc on Route day of catholic solemnity. On the con- 
cluwuu of tlic mass ivcprocL-edcdlo acouri which wastraiisrorniud 
into a tent with connidenblf taste ; and here Ihc exaniination of 
the pupils went fmvtard before the principal Eurofioans of llic 
lame faith. They wtre successively examined in history, in tho 
Crtechiim, in French grammar, and geogi-aphy ; and it wus reall/ 
curious to hear these children of Damascus, some of whom were 
very intellif-cni, repent the ndc on partiei])Ies, mention the hnight 
of CliimlK)iax", or the dat<? of the battle of PaviA. A few bui'lis 
wero Uieu distributtMi among the most meritorinus pupils ; and 
allcrwanls we proceeded to the diniug-nntm, where the Father 
Sn[>eiior''s hospitality had prov ded a very good breakfast. He 
aflerwanU went over the rest of the establishment with me. The 
bastinado on the soles of the feet Is the piniishment inflirted on 
the refraetciiy boys ; nnd when I exclaimed against the baiWritv 
of sncl) a ':h.i'>ti!ieinent, the worthy Abhi* G . , . . informed me that 
he had fieqiienily ntiempti-d to introduce ihu classical birch, but 
that, much lo his regret, the parents would not hear of such an 
htnoralion. and made it a principal condition in sending thoir 


children to scbool, that they should be bastinadoed, as their 
fiitfaers irere before them. Kxcept this one feature, which savonn 
strongly of the East, the schools are conducted in the most ine- 
proachable manner; and in risiting them one cannot help feeling 
respect towards the labourers for the gospel who employ themselves 
in spreading the language of their beautiful country, and the coo- 
Bolations of the Roman Catholic Religion, even to the very veige 
of the desert. 

There are also sereral representatives of Evangelical Societies 
at Damascus ; but their labours are of a more confidential charac- 
ter than the Freres de Saint Vincent de Paul, or of the Fathers of 
the Holy Land ; and I should never have heard of them if some 
one had not happened to mention that one of these missionaries* 
wives had just been confined with her ninth daughter. 

I saw two Turkish Pachas- at Damascus, one who belongs to the 
liberal party, and the other to the retrograde movement. I shall 
describe, in a few words, my interview with the former, as well as 
with the latter. Both were interesting, as well as the spot and Uie 
actors, whose initials, however, I shall only furnish. A . . . Pacha is 
forty years of age, of middle height, and has a slight inclinalion, 
to embonpoint, his complexion is dark, and here and there his face 
is marked with small-pox, he has a long and silky beard, and a re- 
markably quick and intelUgent eye. His costume consisted of a 
fez with a long blue tassel, a blue tunic trimmed with silk, grey 
pantaloons, and polished boots ; on his breast he wore the nicham, 
in diamonds, of a Lieutenant- General. A . . . Pacha has visited 
Europe, and speaks French and English remarkably well; be has 
turned his attention to the mathematics with cousiderable success, 
and ha.s published a small treatise of difierential calculus. The room 
in which he received me was very large, and had a sofa all round it, 
covered with Persian cloth, the windows had curtains of the same 
stuff, in the middle of the room was a stove of English casting, and 
on a table stood a gilt clock, surmounted by a cupid in bronze, 
blowing bubbles of soap, and supported with two china-vases filled 
with artificial flowers. After coffee and sweetmeats were ser\'ed, 
I was leli alone with the Pacha, and in possession of one of the 
best pipes I had ever smoked iu the East. My host brought for- 
ward some facts in opposition to European prejudices against the 
government of his country, which it is as well should be known. 

*' You call us barbarians in Europe," said he. '' I am aware of 
this, and yet am not offended; but you have lived in the midst of 
us for some months, and must certainly allow that we are barbarians 
of good character, and are disposed to do all in our power to im- 
prove. I will even say that in the last thirty years we have done 
a great deal towards the protection of travellers and European re- 
sidents, and for the Sultan's Christian subjects. You have been our 
guest for six months. Of how many instances of extortion, of abuso 
of authority, of unjust chastisement have you been witness ? There 
again is progress. In this country thirty years ago the Sultan's 
power was only nominal ; the history of Syria is chiefly composed 
*f a aeries of intestine wars between the Pachas and the rulers at 
Coniiantinople ; I can now firmly convince you there is not one 



MDonf; nt wlio would dare to asimnie, I do not say dream of inde- 
pendence, certait ly not one \ilin would vcnlnrc to disobey an 
order which hod isjitied from ibe di^ an. Here aguiu is indisputa- 
ble pri)||n<;^> Our roadu, our public woiliSf are still, iiidcud, very 
iinpiTfi'i-l : bill in nnlcr to ndvnnce thcRe iraproremenia money is 
nt'cesiiary ; and though the Turkish Kinpire is one of the most fer- 
tile in llicworhI,unIortuna[eIy money is not very abundant becaiisc 
there oxisis no credit: here the molions of Rurcmtnent can only 
influence us indirectly, it ia only hv example, by the contact with 
Euntpean nations that our poiKilaUun will in liuie leam that it i& 
bottiT to possess firapcrly in hf)uscK, or shares in a railwnv, than 
necklaces of precious sloncR or jars of gold. But 1 hare not vet 
alluded to the fundamental reforms which have taken place in the 
Turkish Empire— I mean tho insiiimion of a regular army; come 
some day and «cc me nncxpectedly, in order thai you may be quite 
uiru thai uothini,' has bceo prepan-d beforehaud, and 1 and one of 
my aides'do-canip wiU accompany you to the harmcks of the in- 
futilr}'. I feel certain that aWkt ynu liave made this viftii vou will 
admit that the 8idlan Mahmoud has commenced a great mirk, 
and ihat his &on and the present Grand Vizir carry it on with 
f^rcat steadiness and perseverance." 

At this |K>int of our conversation the door of the room opened, 
and an officer hastily entered, follnwed by three muRtachioed conks 
in h*lf milila^^■ costume, who were holdlnft lar^c trays of smoking 
ditlies. f imagined that the Pacha''B diuner-huiir had arrived, and 
mado preparations for departure, but one of the airles-dc-camp 
bade me remain, and infurined me that it was the dinner-hour of 
the troops, and that the food was brought for the Pacha's ins|>ec- 
tion before it was distiihuted ; I oltscn-ed that the cooks lilcd one 
by ooe before the Keueral,wlio carefully tasted each dtsli. uf which 
Ibe smell was hy no means uninviting. \l a signal from the oflicer, 
ihc cooks moved off to the left, and returned hy the same way they 
cune : a few niomentx aderwardA, aii if to n^ndcr the scene still 
more lively, a buttatiou entered its head-c|uaner$, preceded by its 
band, which played Scmiraniide in a very mlcrablc manner. I rose 
to take leave of my lK)f«t, and, like a man in a dream, I re<jiiired the 
reririiig influence uf the o|H!n air before I could be made lu coui- 
prchcnil i was at Damascus, and tlini 1 had just iw»ss<'il an 
hour with A . . . Pacha — aud with h Pacha of three tails, be it 

My visit to B . . . Pacha has not, nnforinnately, lef^ behind it such 
■ trutu of pleasant recollections; U . . . Pacha is fifty years of age, 
aod is otiormontdy fat; he ha.>i a fnce like a full moon, a scanty beard, 
and a rubicund complexion, which betrays his addiction lo tho 
diviuu bot'.Ie. He wur« a red fez, set with diantouds. a maroon- 
CoIotRvd coat, a waii>tcuaiof tlesh-colourvd llannel, grey ^-tuckings, 
and yellow slippers. B . . . Pacha is allied to the imperial family, Init 
belongs to the retrograde pn^t^ , and the fiirnnd Vtzir managed to 
rid himiwlf uf him by a kind of hunourabh* exile. U . . . Paeha 
shares Schahabam's passion for gold-tish, as may be perceived by 
three glaM-buwlft Iwiug placed iu difit-reut comets of Uic touui : liis 


conrersation discoren him to be a man wlio would have been 
■n ornament to the Court of Haroun-al-Raschid, owing to his 
ffiierd ideas.and bis profound acquaintance with European matters. 
He receired me in a room on the ground-floor, the walls of which 
were corcred with gilding and eccentric pictures, four crystal 
lustres were suspended from the ceiling, and in the middle of 
Ae araitment was a marble fountain, at the end a large divan, 
upon vhicb crouched the Pacha. An interpreter jstood before him 
with a fly-Hap in his band. Seated on the divan by his (the Pacha's) 
ade, was a Der^'ish, a bilf-naked kind of animal, with bristling 
hair, who was qnite repulsive from dirt, but to whom authority 
seemed lo show great respect. 1 shall not attempt to give a de- 
scription ol' my interriew wiih B — P^cha : suffice it to say, that we 
socm exhausted the subject of fine weather, of rain, cold, and heat, 
■11 ibe materials with which I had to build up conversation. 

At Dimascus I saw glimpses of the Mahomedan East, but at 
Jerasalem the East of the ChrisUans was before my eyes. 
Hithin a hundred yards of Bethlehem I met a caravan of Greek 
pilgrims, who were proceeding lo Jerusalem to be present at the 
Easier riu-s; ihey were four in number — two women, a man, and 
a yoi:ib : they appeared poor, and seemed, too, as if they had 
made a l^ng and fatiguing journey, and had not something 
occurred which showed the ready accommodation of eastern horses 
to circumstances, I do not think I should hare noticed tlieni at 
■11. The mare, upon which the most aged pilgrim was mounted, 
had fi>:\\Hl the day before, and the poor little animal, who had 
only itist seen light, had not strent^th to walk, so that his master 
plact'd him behind his sadtite, and treated the young creature 
with the s.inie caiv he would have taken of a child. 

Tho Ka*ierol" the Greek schismatics always brings to Jerusalem 
a couji/iersMe number of pilgrims from Asia Minor, from the 
Grecian Isics, and livm Russia— the principal feature of the reli- 
jCT'.His ccrtmony is the descent of the holy flaiue, which takes 
place aimuAllr and punctually at three o'clock in the aftenioon on 
the Hi'iV S.ituivtay. without the state of the atmosphere ever hap- 
|»"fnii>j; i,» rt'tarkl ihis chronomclrical miracle. 

.Xbor.t o'evin oVl.u-k on the Holy Saturday I went to the Holy 
S«^pu'v!rt\ where U . . . had secured me a place in the French 
Consiii"< seo.t t'> witness this ceremony. The little court attached 
to the IL^U" :>epulchn? was liued with shops, containing chap- 
lets; erv*sscs, and soapnlaries of all kinds: around these shops 
thtv^uiit'd the nuiltiiude ; the excitement which pen'aded it form- 
ing .m adminible pn-lude to the Saturnalia going forward in the 
sanciu;m-. 1 was obliged to have recourse to the assistance of 
one of the Fathers of the Holy Land to guide me across the 
gallcvios of the church and convent to the upper portion of the 
church belonging to the l^atins, in which a seat had been reserved 
for me ; front thence I coidd quietly gaze upon this extraordinary 
scone ol* pn>f,»nation, with which blind superetition every year 
dciievrwtcs this s^wt so dear to Christianity. The vast rotunda, in 
tbo itmiiilo of which was situated the Holy Tomb, was filled with 



a Rcreamini; itiiil hooting cruird, in a state of agitation in evci-y 
Dense of the word. A ball at llie opera-house, at which the 
dAiicern putth \iuk-atly against each other, to the exciting strains 
of a galop conducted by, can alone convey an idea of 
this pagEin scene, of this insane aduraiton. A troop of lov fellows 
round thu watts rendered thetnselvcft conspicuons by their red 
faces, their ra^s, and their extraordioarily noisy behanour. 1 
learnt, not witlutnt a little astoniBhinent, that these j>ersons were 
tlie clappers Iiired by the Greek pricttU to revive ihi; enthiisiaism 
of the crowd when it began to flag from the fatigue of some of the 
members, and when, consequently, the voice of the multitude 
became subdued for u few minutes. The other portion of the 
church wore a calmer aspect, ttiutigli one not less curious. In thu 
upper part of the palleiy, whieh was reserved for the Greeks, in 
the corridors, in llie niches, io short, in every part where tliera 
was any space, were grouped whole families, — ^mcn, womeu, and 
children, — just like an encampment. Custom imposes upon those 
inlgrims who are anxious lo take j>art rigorously in all the rites of 
pilgrimage, the duty of remaining in the church of the Holy Se- 
pulchre, withoni quitting it at all, from the Hoi V Thursday to Illaster 
Sunday. Here they drink, therefore, eat, and smoke precisely as 
if they were in some khan in Asia Minor ; and the pilgrims, after 
baring performetl these religious cereniunies, set out on their 
jonmey homeward.s, being fully portiuadcd that they have done a 
great deal towards their temporal, as well as tonards their spi- 
ritual welfare. The upper part of the gallery, reserved for the 
Latins, was filled with the middle class of the people, whose eager 
fttUDtion reminded one of the public in the pit of a theatre on 
KHoe day of dramatic importance. In tlto first arcade on the lefl 
a kind of platform had been erected, covered with soft cushions, 
npoD which the I'acha of Jerusalem was comfortably seated, aud 
where he quietly smoked. He was a worthy Turk, of a calm and 
red«etir6 mood, and was as sparing of getiture as of words ; he 
had. probably, never before been present at such a festival. Near 
him was placed the Superior of the Convent of the Holy X«and, in 
a dress of sacking, with a girdle of ropes, like Saint Francois ; his 
feet were naked, and he wore oidy yellow sandals. The fine coun- 
tenance of the priest spoke of a feeling of desolation, and from 
linw to time lie cast looks of holy anger upon the vile populace 
which waved to and fro beneath his feet. Above the Pacha's 
plotfomi WH.* a full-lengtli portrait of King liouis Philippe, in the 
uniform of lieut*-nant-genural of ihc garde imtionale. Beneath 
tlie other arches were travellers from all parts of the world, who 
were anxious to add to the accoimt of their travels the paiticulan 
of this extraordinary scene. 

The excitement of the crowd increased as it approached the 
Holy Tomb; then might be heard cries and stamping, and all 
the tiuiiult which might be expected from an uneducated mob 
who were anxious to see some celebrated performer, but there 
was little to remind you of pilgrims who had travelled from 
distant countries lo perform the most sacred rWbS <ii iNuat iwa!i&. 

vol. .xxxvt. ^ 



The miracle itself, in considcratioo of its being a wooderfiil and 
uodoublod minicte, was announced by a fine body of Turkish 
troops enleriiiR the Holy St-pulclirp. 1 have often lulniired the 
patieuce of London policerueo and the municipal giiardi; of Paris, 
but did not believe it possible that Iiuiuaii forbearance could be 
carried to such an extent, till 1 observed the resignation with which 
the 'I\irkish goldiers bore the waving to and fro of the wild 
crowd, without betrayinB llie least symptom of annoyance. The 
good Osnianlis evidently imagined thev were in the midst of 
people who were deprived of niason, and it is well known that the 
Prophet recommencU the fiiithful to pay all respect to those who 
labour under aberration uf luind. 

At length, through patience and persereranco, the Turkish sol- 
diers succeeded in threading their way, in two files, through tlie 
crowd, and a procession of Greek priests contrived to march some- 
how or other round the church. There was a suitable display of sil- 
ver crosses,of banners of various colours, of priests with long beards 
and long hair, dressed in gold brocade, who would have done ad- 
mirably for figuring in " Norma." The procession moi-ed round 
the church several times; then the Greek Archimandrid were con- 
ducted with great pomp to the Holy Sepulchre, the door of which 
was immediately closed upon them, for it was in secret that the 
miracle took effect. After the Archimandrid had entered Christ* 
tomb, a few minutes' silence ensued, but the impatient crowd soon 
filled llie church again with its cl.imoiir. Punctuality, that true 
politeness in kings, is undoubtedly the etiqnettu with regard to mira- 
cles ; for the third stroke of the convent bell had scarcely finished, 
when a small blue flame made its appearance at the opening of 
the tomb, smelling strongly (I must crave pardon for my incredu- 
lity) of punch, even at an immense distance from the spot. No 
sooner was this perceived than a most ercitnble portion of the 
mob, in costumes of all colours, drove against the walls of the 
tacred edifice like a raging sea, and each person strove to light his 
torch from the primitive flame. The lower part of the church be- 
came suddenly illumined as if by enchantment, and presented a 
roost extraordinary mass of heads, shrouded by blazing arms; the 
female portion of tlie population, who occupied the ui)per part of 
the building, were not long in taking part in this scene of delirium ; 
these euthuiastic women clung to Llic- balustrades and endeavoured 
to light their wax-candles from the flame which issued from the 
Holy Sepulchre, by reaching out their arms to their full length to 
those next below them who had lij^hted their torches from others 
again beneath tliem; in this way the flame was communicated 
from one to the other. 



My aviary wus full of harmony; only one inslrument was 
wauling to briug ii to perfuciion. Pen was enutiing upon his 
tecoad summer, anrf his voice had ncrcr yet been heard. Some 
anxiety was begiuuiiig lo be iVlt. Que si)t»ok his hvad, and said 
there never ncs a proverb wiihout foundalion ; that if night- 
ingale* did sing in cages, lliat was the exception, and did not 
impugn the rule. Aitoiher Mid that a uighttugale must be soli- 
tary at all eveuts; and that, whatever it might do in a cage, it was 
Donesen$e to suppose it would sing in an aviary with other birds. 
A third hoped that, after all, Teri would not turn out to he a 
female; and, in short, 1 began myself lo think that 1 must bo 
content Mith loving him because he loved me, when, one day a* 
1 sat nfading in the avjaiy at the hour when there generally waa 
silence there, tlie birds taking their sietta on their arliGcial 
tree, and Peri concealed in his dark cage, there suddenly shot up 
through the ceiling aud away up to heaven such a note, a clear, 
full, pruhingud iiulc of audi iitiullerable sweetness aud liquid 
music as the dullest car, eapable of receiving sounds, could never 
confound with any other earthly tone. 1 am perfectly and simply 
sincere in saying so ! It was a nuie of triumph ; htit of that pure, 
ineffable triumph which gives the glory where it is due for some 
extraordinary gift made perfect. With shame I confess its effect 
upon myself; I burst into tears ! It iras hut one single note, and 
lasted not more, perhaps, than ten seconds; but 1 knew, I felt, 
though 1 saw him not, that it was tlie niglilingalv. The spell 
was broken ; and, although he uttered not another note for two or 
Uirce days, I felt from that moment that I possessed a treasure 
which DO money could purchase from me. The next lime I heard 
him was three days after, when, coming out of his cage, he placed 
himself on the liltle ledge of wood which kept in the earth round 
the branch of ilex, exactly op|>osite to me as I sat at breakfast; 
and there, looking full in my lace, he rewarded nie,~ay ! had bo 
died the moment nftcr,<~for all my care and all my tenderness. 
He waa a perfect nightingale ! In winter I brought bim, in his 
Cage, to my aitting-room; and there he accompanied me when I 
played the hnrp, in a manner that could leave no doubt upon any 
cultivated ear, that he purposely varied and adapted his liannony 
lo whatever 1 might be plnying: and he showed jirefiTuuce for 
some music over others. Oh, no ! let it not be believed that it is 
only the rarity of the Dighiiugalu's voice to English ears, or its 
only singing when other birds arc silent, that causes it to bo so 
highly praised: it is most ptizcfl where it is most common. 1 
never heard an Italian speak of a uighlingalc but in tones of r»pturo 
and enthusiasm. And it is not Irui: ihal it ou\^ &\n^% v\W\k uOnv:^ 
birds an silcat. It swgM trhile il lemaiua 'ml\xe cottuVrj— ^ot ^ten 


central Italy is too cold for it in winter — qtiile as much and as con- 
tinuously as other hirds. And oh I who that has ever sat listening 
to a nightingale not far distant, on an acacia bough or some other 
tree shedding perfume on the dewy evening air, while a misty veil 
is creeping over the loveliness of nature, until every sense, blend- 
ing into one delightful consciousness of being, gives an idea of 
what perfect happiness may be; who that'bas enjoyed this could 
endure to hear it said that in those strains there is nothing pecu- 
liar? nothing superior to all other birds? Alas! alas! for the 
organisation of him who says so ! With those who say that it is 
impossible to de6ne in what consists the superiority of the night- 
ingale's singing, I can perfectly agree ; for who has sounds or signs 
to convey an idea of such superiority ? Poets have said truly that 
it is a pensive melody, while that of birds in general is joyous ; 
but those have gone too far who have pronounced it the voice of 
melancholy or lamentation. On the contrary, no sounds I have 
ever heard convey to me such an idea of pure, exalted, perfect, 
ineffable happiness; happiness not of this world, but of that bind 
which we may suppose to be felt by beings who only visit it in the 
summer season and in the happier climes, to taste of all it has 
best, and to withdraw ere the wintry hour cometh. In the an- 
swering of other birds to each other at the evening concert, we 
generally detect a challenging, even rivalry, as to who can sing 
best, if not loudest ; but when, and it is rarely, two nightingales 
are heard together, who could fail to be struck with the soft, sweet, 
elegant reserve of a high, refined, and gracious nature P won, as 
it were, each by the charm of the other to give forth their medita- 
tions on the higher and happier mysteries of creation ! I never 
have heard, during the many years which I have now listened to 
them, those contemplative evening songs without this idea occur- 
ring to me. One of the striking characteristics of the nightingale 
in song as in form, is elegance ; refined, intellectual, aristocratic 
elegance. There are those, also, who say they are not beauti- 
ful. No, they are not beautiful if beauty consists in variety of 
colours, or in gay plumage ; but, to him who can behold the grace 
and elegance of their classic forms, clothed in that rich nut-brown 
which is neither sad nor gay, but, like their song, subdued, elegant, 
pure, and chaste, throwing back the golden tinge with which the 
admiring tun would sometimes bedeck them ; or look on that large, 
black, and most sentimental eye, without feeling that there is more 
than beauty there ; to him I must again exclaim, alas ! for his 
organisation. I do not say it as meaning that such a one is fit for 
all that is said of him " Mho hath not music in his soul ; " but I say 
It m pure and unaffected pity for the eniovment of which he is 
deprixod. ^ ^ 

1 lu» first time 1 became fully aware of the extraordinary power 
and expression of a nightingale's eye was upon the occasion of my 
pitrsuing and catching one in my aviary— not my Peri, but one 
which had been previously given to me full-grown, and which 
acconlinglj mndc its escape very soon after. It struggled wildly 
Mffsmat my hand for a moment, lout when finding itself hopelessly 
* pnaoiier, ncm have I thought w\l\\ov\\. pain, V\\Qu^"\>.VB.\i^wi«4. 



[jeBra ago, of the look of inlcnBely reproncliful, but gently reason- 
Ui|r tnqoir}- which it sont, purposely, consciously »cdI through my 

ftycs into my very sonl ; sayiog most intelligibly, " How can you 
jaatiry this to yourself? ** 1 let it go at once. Another moro 
•grecmble instance occurred to me. A person with whom I ivas 
eourening, looking towards the nightingales 1 now have, nb- 
Bcrred to me that one of them liad a blade of grass growing, as 
it were, ont of its beak. I took no notice unul my friend re- 
peated his u)>scr\'utiou, adding that the bird t^eetned gasping. I 
llicn look it into my hand, which, though very nnusiiat, it did not 
ai all rosist, and as I pcrcoii'cd it really was gasping, I drew oul 
the blade of grass from its luoulh, of which it bad swallowed 
nearly half a Anger length with its bulhons root, but of which it 
could not manngo the rest; and, once again wns shot into my sonl 
soul-proceeding look of gratitude which absolutely startled not 

I'Dnly me hut my companion; and nothing in this world could now 
»r«unde me that nightingales are not ^c^y much more highly or- 
gftoised than is geuerally supposed. Another peculiarity of theirs — 
■t least as far as my experience goes, it is peculiar lo them in the 
manner and extent of it— ia that, while oihcr birds « hen hesitating 
whether or not to trust the hand that offers them food, keep look-^ 
ing ut the food as they advance to or recede from it, at most casting 
a shy furlii-e glance at ihe offerer, as if to see wbelber they are 

[•bwrred, or may safely steal, the nightingale, when he begins to 
ihink of tnisting you, looks up openlv, candidly, inquiringly into 
your eyes, and asks if he may indeed trust you. I am perfectly 
conviuccd that erery one who has studied (he real. unaduUcTatcd 
nighlingate with sympathy and affection, will confirm all 1 hare 
said upon this subject. Such persons will also, no doubt, have 
obsencd what 1 call " the ecstasy"'' of nightingales, that is, after 
having been taken in the hand, or otherwi&c much frightened, they 
become fixed, as it %vcrc ecstatic. They icroain perfectly still, 
looking out on vacancy, and neither heed the voice nor the ofier 
oTfbfKl, or even the aliempl to rcseize them ; and this slate con- 
tinues sometime* for Ijall-an-bnur, sometimes for longer, after the 

kcause of alarm, or, as 1 believe it to be, of offended delicacy or 
dignilv is past. The 5rsi time [ f^aw tliit^ I lliought ihe bird was 
about to drop dead. I afberwards came to understand it better, 
and then it became (o me inexpressibly affecting, as intense, silent 

Ivmolion always is. Seeing a human being thus, we ehould sup- 
pose him ivrapt, ahsolnldy wrapt, in prayer or inspiration. No 
intimacy, no dome&tication, prevents this strangi* i^eizure. Peri 
flew constantly upon my hand, upon my shouldi-r, or mv la]>; 
Would cat (>nt of my mouth, and, when 1 plnccfl a womi iint^cr my 
band, vvould force bis boak between my Bngers lo get at it; and 
yet if I seircd him nnawares or against his will, he would full into 
that ecstatic state, and more than once remained in it on my 

-bosom, where I had placed him in order to let bim lly auay. 

'"^Vhat 1 am about now to say I do not give on my own authority, 
but I believe it witliout difficulty, from the equally curious things 
which 1 have seen ; from the universality of ibc bvUe^ uV \V.\v«t\ 
and from the assurunces of lliosc on whose vco\As V \'i\\ , w\i!i vNVa 


themselves have seen it. It is that, when the nightingale who in 
batching her young brood finds out, by her marrellous insUnct, 
that the nest has been pro&ned by the hand of man, she im- 
inediately poisons her offspring; preferring their death to their 
slarery. But how does she know that slaveTy will ensue ? I am 
told, however, that this Roman heroism is not confined to nightin- 

Again, nightingales are the only birds which I have ever ob- 
served to endeavour, untaught, to make themselves understood by 
us through sounds. Nightingales positively do. The first time I 
observed this, was when I put a strange nightingale into the cage 
with Peri. He was excessively annoyed and alarmed, and for 
some time fluttered and flew wildly through his cage, as birds 
generally do on such occasions ; but, as if recovering bis presence 
of mind, he presently flew upon the upper perch, and, putting bis 
face close up to mine, which was peering over him, a^d looking 
his look of intelligence and communication into my eyes, he 
rapidly uttered what we should call a j/ahbering remonstrance or 
entreaty, inst raising bis voice to what we should call the speaking 
tone: and I could no more have resisted that appeal than if he 
had uttered it in English ! He repeated the same thing on 
another occasion. Leo was in one of bis tyrannical moods, for he 
was rather of a fitful temper. Dear bird ! of whom I may truly 
say, " I loved thee for thy virtues, and for thy faults I believe I 
loved thee still more." He took it into his head to break the 
thread which prevented his passing into Peri's cage, drove 
him out, and took possession of it. I knew nothing of this, as it 
occurred during my absence from the aviary ; but no sooner was I 
within the door on my return than Peri, who seldom went upon 
the ilex branch, started out from the centre of it, and, thus arrest- 
ing my attention, and fixing his eyes upon mine, once more re- 
peated his most peculiar, rapid, jabbering complaint ; and, although 
I cannot tell bow or why, 1 perfectly understood in one moment 
all that had occurred. No sooner had I chased Leo out of the 
cage, and replaced its temporary binges, than Peri, who had 
anxiously watched the whole process, flew down from the branch, 
and, with their peculiar, noiseless, mouse-like mode of escape, 
slipped into it, and remained there imtil, doubtless, ho believed the 
giant's wrath had evaporated. And what became of this intelligent, 
beautiful, and pleasure-giving creature? 1 sent it, also in its own 
cage and with all its appurtenances, to another friend whose villa 
was about a mile distant, through a winding, woody road, and on a 
different elevation from mine. Notwithstanding all this, he who 
scarcely ever left his cage even when it was open, made his escape, 
came home, and was taken in his old, but then empty, aviary. 
Are domesticated birds not happy then? He was consigned to 
the kind old priest already alluded to, thoroughly skilled in the 
management of birds, and by whom he also had been nursed in 
his infancy for me, and who, I am convinced, would have sacrificed 
a finger to have been able to bestow him upon me a second time; 
hatf aias J who can minister to the mind diseased ? My Peri died 

« few days of a broken heart.— S. C. 




Toe Ki^Uut adDiii'al of the Baltic fleet wns l)urit on the 6th of 
Mamli, 17UGjniid is consoqueiitly in his si\ty-niritl» year. By the 
rn](?ndar an aged mnii, but in niiiid and body nclivc and vigorous. 
A naral commander ta not exjiosud to the pln-^ical exertion insc- 
pamblc from the duties of n mititary chteflnin. He cnrriea his 
DoaK vith him, and the quarter-deck of his flft^-ship in his battle 
char^r, wbo never tires, nud irill endure many wounds before 
linking: under liim. ^Yith the exception of Nelson, our mort 
renowned jtdniirHls have been ancients. Rodney and Jcrvia were 
each aixty-four, Duncan sixty-»ix, «nd Howe within a few months 
of seventy, when tiiey respectively won their great battles. Thev 
did their work well, and were not found to be too old. Napier has 
taken Boniarsund, and perhapH before he sees another birth-day, 
Ht'lsingfors, Kcvcl, and C^ronstadt may be inscribed on the clasps 
and mcdaU with which Ins breast is covered. The service in which 
he ia cnga^^ed reqnin-s pnidcnco and experience as much as daring, 
and he has proved tbat these qimlities are happily blended in his 
liardy tempcriunciit. The opinion and ex|H;ctntions of his countrr- 
meii are with him. Had the post ho holds been disposed by 
ballot, " Old Cli:irli-y" (as lie is fomiliarly called) mip;lit have 
counted ou an nluii>st uimnimou^ election. Tlic vcn* sobriquet is 

■ an eridoncc of his popularity. Sailors and »)oldierd seldom bestow 
aaines except from affection. When war was declared, everybody 
said "Old Charley" wan the man for the Baltic, and no sooner 
had he hoisted his fla^ than it was at once admitted even by those 
who»e wishes were with their own friends, tbat he was restored to his 

.proper element, and mnrh more at home than when hnran<:uing 
from the busting at Maryleboue, e\])Osing dockyard abuses, or 
iiupodni^ licbatea in the House of Coniiuons. ^Kew, if any, ollicers 
on the list have seen the varied service that Sir Charles hw, by 
land OS well a* sen; for, like Sir Sidne}' Smith, he is amphibious, 
and enjoys lighting with equal gusto, whether ashore or aHoat« 
As Sir Sidney was mounted and in the field at Alexandria, so wa( 
Sir Charles at Uiisaeo, and both gathered laurels " iu the immi< 
Mcnt deadly breach," at Acre, Sidon, and Beyroiit. There were 

I'clasa of men in the last war called " fire-eaters," with whom baltte 
•wiw the breath of their nostrils, who were never thoroughly happy 
except when within the smoke and smell of gunpowder ; and who 
cared not a f^•^ whether the scene of action was a seveuty-four, a 

[f;vn-boat, a battery, or a biU-side. The Napiers were all of this 
brigade, and bniver and better warriors never hnndlcd cold iron, 
or wore a uniform. Not long ago, four of the family might have 
bceu acen nt the same levee, wearing the insignia of knighthoods 
won bravely at the point of the sword. 
VOL. xxxTi. a 


Sir Chftrles Napier is descended from a noble race, being the 
grandson of Francis, fifth Lord Napier. He entered the navy as 
a volunteer in 1799, when little more than thirteen, nnd three 
years later became a midshipman in the Greyhound, 32, com- 
manded by the late Sir WiUiam Hoste, a pupil of Nelson, and one 
of the bright ornaments of the British nary. In 1805, he was 
promoted to be lieutenant in the Covrageux, 74, and was present at 
the action with Admiral Linois, when the flag-ship of the latter, 
the Marenffo, 74, and the Belle P<mU frigate, were taken. In 
1808, he became commander, and in the Reendt^ an 18-gun 
brig, fought a very smart action with, and beat off, a French 
corvette. La DUigentc, of much superior force. On this occasion, 
he received a severe wound ; his thigh was brokoi, but he refused 
to leave the deck. In February, 1809, he assisted at the reduction 
(tf Martinique, and scaled Fort Edward with a very small number 
oi men, in open day, by which achievement the operations were 
much shortened. In the April following, be materially assisted 
in the capture of UHauUpouit, 74, and was promoted to be post- 
oaptain in consequence. He was then only twenty-three, and 
one of the youngest officers of that rank in the service. During 
the following summer, he returned home, served a campaign on 
shore with the army in Portugal, as a volunteer, and was again 
wounded. From 1811 to 1813, he was actively employed in the 
Mediterranean, in command of the ThameSy Furieux, and Eurpalus 
frigates. With the last-named vessel, he was despatched to North 
America, and shared in the brilliant expedition against Alexan- 
dria on the Potomac. Captain (now Admiral) Sir James Gordon, 
who commanded, declared in his despatches that he owed to 
Captain Napier more obligations for his effective co-operation 
than he had words to express. Then came the peace, during 
which the subject of our memoir was laid np in ordinary for 
fourteen years. From 1829 to 1832, he was employed on parti- 
cular service in the Galatea, 42 ; and in 1833 occurred the great 
event of his life, his complete victory off Cape St. Vincent, when 
in command of Don Pedro's fleet, with which he totally destroyed 
the more numerous and powerful armament of Don Miguel, and 
virtually finished the contest between the rival claimants of the 
crown of Portugal. 

On the Ist July, 1839, Captain Napier was appointed to the 
command of the Powerful, 84, and hoisted the broad pendant of 
Commodore, as second to Sir Robert Stopford. During the two 
following yc<irs, the gazettes teemed with his dashing exploits on 
the coast of Syria, in the course of which he contrived to make 
above 0000 prisoners, to rout more than one army, and to capture 
several fortresses. After taking a leading part in the memorable 
bombardment of St. Jean d'Acre, he proceeded in charge of a 
squadron to Alexandria, where he landed, and concluded a con- 
vention with the Viceroy of Egypt, Mehemet Ali, by which the 
Sultan's fleet was rescued from the gripe of his revolted vassal. 
For his distinguished services he was created a K.C.B. in Dec 
1840, and received the tban)i8 of Parliament. He has also been 



compIimeDted with orders and crosses from the sovereigns of 
Kussta, Auntrin, Pnissin, atid Portugal. On the 9tb Nor. 1846, be 
became an ailmiral, mid hoi<itcd \m Hag:, in commnnd of the ex- 
! squadron, on board the St. Vincen/. In April last, he 
sailed from Portsmouth with the finest fleet thnt ever led the 
•hores of Gn};Und, and if the ICmperor of RuwiH continnes ob- 
stinate, and allows him the opportunity, he irill^ in all jiruhnbilitj', 
jTtnm a peer of the renlm. But he is too old a practitioner to 
Itnock hi« »hip« to pieces in a useless couAict with otonc walls, or 
,to mttempt desperate euterprises for the sake of h flouribhin^ de> 
Itch. We conclude this brief notice by observing that Sir 
Charles, with niaiiy of his brother officers, has handled the pen 
, Vhcn bis Bvord was in the scnbbard, and has adopted the motto of 
'tam Marti qnam Mcrcnrio." He is the author of several profe*^} 
EaioBal nrtictes iu the Vmitd Service Journal, aud haa also pnb-I 
lod "An Acconnt of the War in Portujral between Don Pcdr^J 
Land Don Miguel,'* and auother of "The War iu Syria.^ Withoutf 
Is^^R into any question as to the literary pretensions of thesej 
'vorka, tfacT are valualtle as historical documents, and abound iai 
very intenwting details. J)ut the Admiral is prc-eminentlr a muaj 
of actiuu, rather than a votary of the miduifrht lamp; the quarter*! 
deck, and not the bnrenn, is his Icptimntc f^eld, and he may snfchf 
Icare to other* the taok of chronicling the deeds which have est»*| 
blishcd fur him an uiid^'in^ reputnlioii. 

Tlie *' prutlenicii of J^igland who live at home at ease," andj 
rend f^-cttes in an arm-chair, over a comfortahle break fast- tabic 
eipceted at first that the present war would be a mere party 
plcastire, and that every despatch from the Black Sen or the] 
I Baltic would be n repetition of Ciesar'a '* Vmi. liiti, rici," whedj 
I pharaaces of Pontus ran away at the mere sight of his indomJtabU 
'legions. We have no wish to find fault with «uch commendabled 
patriotism, or to check convictions of British prowess, whicfaJ 
whether well or ill founded, go & considerable way towards e«ta-] 
blishtng the fact. But euthusiastic anticipation cannot jump orer 
phyatcal ohstnclcs, or force an enemy to action, who is dcicrmined 
to lie etu«e, like a tortoise under his bIicII. \Vheii Lord NeUoa; 
Mkiled from Port»ui<mth in ISOTi, everybody iM-'gan to calcnlatc ho»j 
many dnyit and weeks would olnpsc before news arrived of th4 
destruction of the combined flcet«. The calculation wiis redacecll 
to a certainty, for all the world e\|>ected Ihey would come out nnc 
fiRlit, which thry did gallantly, and wrrc l>rfltctt like j;enTlemeii/j 
Our admirals at present h»ve to deid with an enemy who bur 
in hulcs, and akulks behind walh and batteries. To r!;et at hii 
rrquirca time, circiimstauces, and opportunity; all of which mna 
«o-operate before a great result can be safely cipected. Dcspcmt 
attempts ore soraetimes attended by proportionate adrantagesj' 
but there is mtteh to qualify a triumph, which throw« half the 
Bntion into mourning. Shakspcare, who knew everything, and 
ia a safe authority to op]»eRl to, tells us, and truly, that "a victory 
i> twice ilsdf, when the achiercr brings home full numbers." 



Tbe Eastern quesdoa and the Euteiii war have both assumed 
» more dieoing and a more certain aspect. We now know 
exactly what we are g«ng to fight for, and how we are to fight 
lor xu The Tioau<m al Austria is cleared up, that of Prussia and 
Ae len of Gcnnanr defined and arowed. We know what con- 
coaBOBs Kassa was prepared to make, and how far thej fell 
i^Kt <c ^^ AwnaTM^ of the AlUea. 

Vas^ lefotKS id the phui adc^ited for the present prosecution 
ti aatt wxr. i^ tm^arrment of the whole, or chief part, of the 
akl&K iarctsf sipcias Seinsti^iQl, we shall sar little more than wish 
s sor-xsa.. Ve. iBand, retain oar opinion, that a victory in the 
fiu£ 2K sm AEiQBre tfcaa ten sie|;ea. In order to beat the 
^nwrnoHv. •jtsAas* it wQ be fbosd not to hare been advisable to 
vcark zaaiL n :» ^cit pasxioD whidi ther have chosen, and 
wtaoEO. I3iff rini^ atcss ssnx^. The Bnsaian soldiers have given 
nsaixinsc -maa a. Tatdr eaooantas with the Turks, that they arc 
»R « 5^wTTn-*t. ic saasxxiLor reliable, in the field, as their repata- 
lam. fispe :atfiit imnc S^r. Tie officers could with difficulty make 
Qe sniutrrs i^-xz. Xjw. behind walls and in entrenchments, de- 
*«fc"T>T^; a. 3tiftK. jifiL^sTT <»& nukc soldieni fight, and half-spirited 
MuoKTv 3it&>c iiTic. Tbtre can be no hesitation and no turning 
^nerv. Si :^«r~3*~ im-irffg the Bossians in Sebastopol, we are 
-Mntai!» {icvtn^ ^aeax. OMir utmost advantages, fiat the expe- 
.«i:\ vt nnitf :wnreiL'3tf gallant troops of two countries embarked, 
»K :? :ai* 'zjsK iaaapsd. in the enterprise which must decide at 
<«fc* :ae mieaerT^ jc iae Black Sea, it would be ill-timed and 
»aa»>x-.xa* :u .awii jr zt crtdcise. There is still a great deal to 
j« saiu li ;a*tiur j£ :air S^rQastt^Pol expedition, which may, after 
jkU :ura j«£ a "imn^'y* at ^ open field, as well as the invest- 
'3KUV A t ivrmr!«>~ Vtn SssBins are retiring in haste behind 
:iK- ■,'^«:J, ■arw.»:ug :3tf Ptatctpafioes as a sop to Austria, whilst 
UKw :>istuivtios-tf* iarrymgJiF W th* Crimea. They canuot arrive 
::x«' :•«! «ust »it»rr ^ «p«Mai£T if the coast be well watched. 
Sue i '.;k'» 4rrt»s xtUce we have reduced the fortress; and if 
5iis :*in.y(vcuivuf> :ujjeca>jr with, Ae 70,000 Russians already 
oWiMiauii: : w ^>mvV oia orerrafi the accomplishment of our 
Bk.'ucs "ii •i»»<'' -***. w^uKhrr. cojer wiil have attained their ends, 
•Itu atiutv .iC Vase an Wnvrttnoie oeftrttW. 

■pK> scrvatp."*^ aKK:*e Ew ueiucacin^ the conquest of Sebas- 
kMtth. an** ^.tr»iiUijC tae^ ailiitfd armies to that achievement, is, 
I^c^^u«« ;iwc ;3v* Kypj!*it wiaiscec has declared the existence of 
thtf swaiBK****"* *-"^"«* =* 5iis hi;horto impregnable port, within 
^m ihMun-' «"i >tc sCwutt «rf vTynstantinopI*, incompatible with 
j^ j^v"***? ■'* '^ ^.*ctwaaa Eaipinf. His Iwlship even hinted, 
^^ ^ tUilUHin^^*Tf *'^* ^^^ cisadel was one of the necessary 
imt v^ tftfMV^ ^^ *^ afajnutng, for the Emperor of 



Kussin could ncrcr coTuwnt to such r condition. The only way 
to obtain it, was to execute it ; and Sebnstopol, once destroyed, 
tbe Emperor Nicholas may bt- brought to listen to the other 
torrns of peace. 

It WHS with the greatest pleasure thnt wo perused these terma, 
ns laid down so clearly and nbly by M. Drouyn de I'Hnys. Thcj 
conditions of peace, as cither delineated iu Ijord John Russell'Mj 
vpeech, or in the articles of the oaiuiatcria] papers^ struck us aa pi 
sentin^ almost interminable objections to peace. They spoke 
niateriul guarantees, of depriving Russia of some of Ijcr actus 
territories, and of insisting on the iu(io[)ciidcnee of the Circnssiai 
coast — conditions which it would require five years' cnmpnigning|1 
and successful ciimpai-;ning too, to force Russia to submit to. Th< 
French minister sweeps away all that was overweening and im-l 
practicable in these demands, and limits them to what is abso-j 
lutely nccc«£ary to the rastonition of independence to Turkey^ 
vithuut insisting on nught that is pccutinrly humiliating 
RusMft. It docs not idlude to the Circassian coast, makes nt 
lOCDtion of material guarantees; and, with rcKjicet to the grci 
naral force which Ru8:«ia has collected in the I'^uxinc, it propo<ici 
to counterbalance it by oi)ening that sea to the nnvies of other 
powers, ruthcr than by requiring Rustiia to give up fleet, fortresiij 
or territory. The demands of the I'rcnch GoTcmmcnt arc cmi-, 
Tteotty prnctienl, useful, fair, and necessary. And a war curried 
on for ihem will have a clear and determined aim, well worth 
struggling for with all the resources of two great empires. 

TJie first condition thnt the jillied Governnietits insist upon is,] 
that the Protectorate of the Principalities, including Servla, bei 
trauHferred, not to Austria, ns nn nrtieto in the I'imes niciit;oued,j 
hut to the powers of Europe collectively. The second is tlie open- 
ing of the Dniiube. And here, it must be observed iu justice to' 
Russia, that when the English cruisers the other day took sound- 
ings in the Sulina mouth of the Danube, they found the depth 

lOf water much greater than had been reported. The third de- 

tSiand is the nivinion ur ulirogiitiun of the Trenty of the Straits, by 
which Russia n-ally obtained the command of them, and the 

.monopoly of the Black Sea, whilst English and IiVench men-of- 
war could not. even in stress of weather, do so much as anchor 
within the Dardanelles. The last of M. Dronyn's conditions is 
the nboHtton uf nil religious protectorate over tbe Christian 
nynhs uf Turkey — a must impurtaut demand^ aa it implies n 

r waiving hr Prance of her protectorate over the Latin Church of 
tbe islands and of Jerusalem. It was tbe keen assertiou of this 
light by France which led to all our present rmbarrnssinents; 
and it IN fniiik and noble of the French Emperor to forego this 
claim, on the condition that Russia foregoes hers. We must eon- 

,&n, however, tbnl this isthc condition to which Rnimia willop|>09e 
Ipreatest reluttance. We mny, by amw, reduce tlie Ctar of 
Rua«in to forego his protecturntc of the Greek Church de /ado, 
but that we shall ever compel him to admit \b\« \n & «Q\e.xEin. 

tRMtf, «e doftbt. ' It voaM be a dearon em ent. ^e monardi 
^o Mpwd aadi a daoK, ooidd nerer hold np his head in Ktusia, 
wmi, in troth, should abdicate. If iniisted on, this will be the 
great obstacle in the war of the accomplishment of peace. 

For our own pazt, we casBot bat connder a joint protectorate 
•f all the povcn over the Chriatians of Turkey as in nowiw 
dmgenws or iBiaucal to the Porte That protectorate, it is 
yhin, the OuistieB powc w mnt continoe Tirtnallj to exeroae. 
ne Gotei^nenU of Eon^ie, after faaviog saved the Ottoman 
Knr|rT", cannot aUov that caipitc to Bake use of its ascendancy 
•■4 hi— [ih to civsh or oppreai the Christians ; but when tlu 
law 1 6 1 1 Ml < takes place in the name of united Europe, the Porte 
Imb BotUn^ to fienr froa the ex^ncies, the ambition, or the inso- 
kare of anj one of thnu Th^ Bmperar of Rnasia has, we know, 
akcmir consented to the joint protectorate — an important coneet- 
SMB on hie pwt. Whether it will be worth while prolon^ng the 
var. in «eder to ntablcA a no-protectontte, instead of a joint proteC' 
tmt^ a Rfld and Tiitnal protectorate bcin^ to be maintained and 
OMicix J all the tiBr. icaains to be decided. The difference is 
evsiendr an aSair of words, not things. As long as Abdol- 
Me^jiti is on the throne, and Beschid Pacfaa vizier, snch a pro- 
tectorate will not, and need not, exist ; bat if, at any fntnre day, a 
Snkan sbonid arise of the old fanatic school and temper; and 
shonU he and his I'lenaa, presuming on any supposed triumph, 
proc v cd ooce more to renew the old mode of treatiog the Chris- 
tian subjects of the Poite, all the abrogations of the protectorate, 
and all the treaties in the world to that effect, will not prevent 
Knssot and other Christian powers interfering, and if not by the 
li^ts accraing Croa the Treaties o£ Kifinardje and Bucharest, by 
li^ts soil Bwre sncicd and urgent, the rights of common sense 
aiidof hnnMnity. 

And hc«« let «a notice one of the greatest monstrosities ever 
nttned within the walk ef Parliament. Mr. Layard did not shrink. 
fiMBi proposing there, that the Christian Greeks, liberated from 
the Turkish yoke by the Treaty of London, should be re-subjected 
to Musstilnan dwnination. When it is remembered, that the 
spirit of Turkish Gorerament, central or provincial, inevitably de- 
pends ou the personal rbaiacter of the mier for tbe time being, 
that the spirit and essence of the Mahomedan Government is im- 
plicit obedience to the Saltan or the Pasha; when it ia known 
that, instead of Torkish policies and modes of government being 
divided into Whig and T«t, they are separated into Reformers, 
who are humane as far as circumstances will allow, and did 
&natic Turks, who think it the height of wisdom and devotion to 
cutoff Christian heads and destroy Christian institutions; when it 
is in the course of events and in the nature of things, that one of 
these parties and policies shoold alternate with the other; con- 
tem[Jating and knowing these contingeocin, for any one to 
come forward and say, that there shall be no protectorate, and 
W the Turkic Government shall be le& free to do what it lists. 


la merely avotding n present difficultj br the creation of a rttU 
greater uoe at uo distant day. 

But wheti, ill addition to this, a friend of bumanitv and n rege- 
nerator of the Enst dimes forward to propose iu full Parliament 
ibat a nation of Chrtstinns, nnd of Greeks too, t^oremed by tbeir 
owu hiws imd their umu xuthurilit^'x, shall bu t'c-sabjccted to the 
arbitrary atui htnlcssirulcof MusauJnians, merely hecait5c the iMus- 
ftuliiiu!» happen tA be the iKtlitienl silly o( En^hmd for the mumeot. 
— lucb aa STowal of poUtical selfish ucsa, :ui(l coiiteoipt of all 
priodple, and all ctvilizAtiun, aiul all right, ia a mDiislroaity. That 
Mich an opiuiun should hnve been uttered in Parliament in the 
uinctcentb cvutury, and toleratud there, is one of the tncts which 
will amvt-y a titimip tulln^tish cUaracterj humanity, nnd justice, 
that hiatlurj^j wc rt(;rct to say, will have to up^>reci;Ue and to 

Greece fortunately has not been given over for massacre to an 
Omcr Vriooe or an Ibrahim. Uoder the coDstitutioual rule of s 
Mavrocordato, the clivssic livnd may once mure prosper, will be 
caiabled to discover its true inten-sts and its true prospects of 
pCHtnea*, and may yet prove oue of the most efficieut guardians 
of the g;eneral interestB of Western Kurope. of civilization and in- 
dependence in the I^evant. 

If the state to which Circece has been restored affords erery 
GKBse of oon^atulalion, hi does, fur the first time in thi^ struggle, 
the attitudu of Austria appear more duiiiiite and ttatiafiictory. 
After lon^ hesitation Austna has declared, that not only llussia 
must withdraw from the Priucipalilies, but that xunrAntei-s must 
be taken against her ever re-entering them. The treaties between 
ilussia and tlie Porte must bo lorn up, others substituted, no 
kwger Iciivinj; her cither the protecLurate of the Principalities 
or of the bauube. Austria making such a declaration as this is 
tant*mouiit tu her passing the Rubicon, and deserting the alliance 
of the Kaat lur that ot the West. All the demands bitlierto made 
by Anatria of Russia might have been construed as efforts made 
in behall' of peace, and with a feeling of friendship as much for 
Boaa'm aa for the Western Foners ; but to insUt that idl the 
treaties by which Roasia baa been tying up the Porte for the last 
century kfaould be abrogated, and at tlie same tiioc to transfer the 
protectorate of Scrvia, of Wallacbia, and Moldavia, from Kusaw 
to heracif — for giving it to the joint powers ia scarcely less — this 
is breaking openly with the Cxar, nnd defying him. It it placing 
Austria in its old position of military and imperial antagonism, 
and altogctbcr cmancipntiug it from its previous position of sub- 
aerrieiicy. It is a position that Austria cnn only maintain by 
I Mdvanctng her armies. For having so provoked Hnssia, Austriil 

H mutt bumble that power; or should sliu heiitatc to do so, aba 
H jncrely incurs inevitable and periious retaliation. 
H The court of Vienna hesitated Cor a long time, and has shown 

H the extreme of caution and timidity. In attempting to bring 
H Primia along with her into antagonism with Rnsiia, AnitruL, a& 
■ we Jon^ aiace foretold, iailed otterly. Tke trcaxv <A ixuiAnA 




guftrantee of one anotlier's territories— a treaty which enabled 
Priisfiia to rtslrniii Austriii hitherto — niiiy be said to be broken. 
Austria, instead of making its dematiiU of the German Confedera- 
tion, conjointly with Frussin, uow makes them singly — a plain 
admission of the breach between the tiro great powers of Oer- 
many. Austria thus takes its stmid alone; whiUt all the courtu 
of Germany arc, it is to be feai-ed, iii secret understanding with 
Russia. Tliis puts n new face on tlie map of that country ; for 
whilst all the courts and the Conservatives side with Riussia, the 
people and the ConatitutionaUsts sympathise with the [lolicy of 
Austria. The youn? Emperor begins to feci his position in this 
respect; and Hccordin<;ly we see an amnesty granted to Lom- 
bat^y, and a serious talk of the resuscitation of a constitution fur 
tinngary; not a democratic one, perhaps, - but, iu fine, a con- 

Should Austria dcfinitirety cast dovn the gnuntU^t to Russia, 
(and she has now every appearance of »o doing,) the struggle is uo 
longer bctn-ccn the Czar and the Western Powcru ; for it is mani- 
fest that the Wcstcni Powers, joined with Austria, are too strong- 
for hira, and must crush him. The policy of Russia hitherto has 
been to di;fy the Western Puwcra, and coiicihatc Austria. Should 
it appciir that nothini; will conciliate Austria but Russians aban- 
doning her traditional designs upon Turkey, then Rossiii will, 
no doubt, nbandou the hope of conciliating Austria, hut will 
prefer trying to satisly the Western Towel's, in order to fall with 
ncr full weight upon Austria. The rivalry is henceforth between 
Russia and .A.uatri«, which rcassumes its old pretension of Iwing 
au Eastern and a uiaritime power. In »uch a struggle we cannot 
nbnnduti Austria. 

The great hope, however, is, that she will be fully able to defend 
herself; and that in the coUisiou between Austrian and Russinn 
armies, the former mny be found superior. We still adhere to 
the opiuion, that the winning of n battle or battles on the Pruth 
or the Dnieper can alone put a termination to the present war. 
Victory in the field, not the capture of this or that fortress, can 
decide it. If Austria be able to achieve the above, aided by such 
dtrcnion as wc arc making in the Crime-a, Russia can do nothing 
for the present save succumb, trusting to the growing strength of 
its empire, auil to better poliey and direction iu the future, to 
rccorcr the vantage ground, which, under Kicliohis, It has lost. 

It would be most desirable that the decision should be arrived 
at quickly ; and if the court of Austria were wise, it would make 
its armies march at once Co that decision : for shonid the iror 
endure, Prussia will be called into it^ — Germany wilt be divided, 
not into parties contending in a federal axacmbly, but belligerents 
conibtttiiig in the field. If all Euroi)c be then fiung into open 
irar, ^to know not what military events or geniuses may arise iind 
spring up to change the entire atate of international politics, and 
jinputK the palm of power more than the extreme of Russian am- 
bition could have done. 
T/icre »re some persons exceedingly attiwM* tViA tVi«'«M«Uould 







tlios continue and extend. They tliiiik tlmt if all Europe was 
(lung iuto trouble nnd diiiacnsion, lliu liberals and constitulion- 
alista — the people, in fine — would he Bhlc to assert nnd rccovrr 
their own. We differ altugether from those hopes, and dissent 
from auy such cnlctdations. The couHcqiienco of a ^'cueml war in 
Europe would be, to take the y^mtli nnd manhood of the Conti- 
nuiit, and mukc BoUlicnt of it ; the leading spirita of tlic genera- 
tion would become otticcrs and f^enernlB, and tlicy would bcromo 
interested in war ns n gain and as a profession. AVhat look place 
in France nndzr N'apoluon would then recur throughout Europe. 
Militnry ideas, military aims, niililary inlcreHls, railitari- honour, 
would predominate over nil others. Cinlians would be niicc more 
coinidured as mere Pt'kins. A liberal pnrtj* would he reduced ttk 
a few adventurers and a few phi]a<!0))hers in morning gowns and 
■Uppers. If the hardships of war made citizens be mutinous 
here, or peasantry rise in rebellion there, the militnry would 
crush iheni without remorse. Europe would become once more a 
camp, which would preclude nil possibility of eonstitutional or 
represeutattve assemblies, not only durin«; the war, but for ton or 
fifteen years after it. If democracy knew its interest*, it would 
never appeal to arms, or ucrcr do aught that would favour the 
fid)ricatiou of soldiers. 

See how the great cause of liberty has lost nlrciidy even by the 
fint sound of arms. We Eiif^lish are uecessarily iudifferent to 
it. We cannot look the gift-horse of the French alliance in the 
mouth, and cavil with the Emperor Napoleon for the nature of 
his rule; neither can we denounce Austria for its despotism. 
Our tciiderucM for the cau»e of Italy or of Hungary sinks before 
the imperative interest of self-preservation and the maintenance 
of Ihe balance of power. Kossuth may harangue, and Mazzini 
may denounce ; we can listen to neither, ^^'e have higher interests 
■t»takc than the consideration of whether Lombardy or Hungary 
nreto be advanced in the rank of constitutional states. We are 
anxious for the ludependeuce and balance of power uf Europe and 
of the world; and the fate of the noblest local patriots or patriot- 
ism sinks into the shade by the aide of the great European 

Were the wnr terminated now or speedily, owing to the fact of 
Au-isia l>cing in a military sense chcck*mated by the three allien, 
and compelled to submit to their cunditious, then, indcctt, tlio 
liberal cause throughout Europe would have gained immensely. 
Because, although peace was re$tore<^, the two great nitlitnry 
despotisms uf the east of Europe would be still rivals, still hostile, 
still mistm.stful of each other, and obliged to scrk strength in the 
wny of popularity and progress. More than this, Austria nud 
Pniasia would he in antngoni^ni, with Hussia no longer supreme 
over b<ith, to compel them to be rctj^)gnide and be despotic. The 
mere lilVing of the weight of Russia from off Orrmnny, and the 
destruriion of \\Kr preatirje, will prove a far greater pood to liberty 
Than if Huugary lind vindicated il« independence bv rtto^. 

We bare no right, however, to augur uni«lcrT\^\Aei\ ot \«\ft\«i^- 




tioDal success. Austrin may still hesitate; and aflcr lulling ghvn 
the ^cnt provocatiuii, may shrink, from 9upporttD|; it with Tigunr. 
She may merely advance iiitu Walhichia, and leaving the Ruuian 
arm} unoccupied and unmcnaccd bclov the Pmth, shn mar allow 
the Csar to drift oS* the grvater part uf tier forcei to the Crimea, 
and BO prulon<r the war there till the winter. All this will be fatal 
for Austria. The Turks arc eridcntly thrpatcneU more scrioualy 
in Armenia thiiu on the Dnnabe, nnd their chief cfTorls will dot 
be directfd to the Asiatic frontier; there is a talk of rwn trans- 
ferring Omcr Vacha tbitlker. Thi*, of coune, ma,T be done if the 
Austrian^ undertake to prosecute the war, hoverer uwctiTelf, ia _ 
the Principalities alone, and prefer doing so. ■ 

. But wliiUt further nttentiou of both belligerent countric* ia 
directed to the Black Sen, no less serious operatiaus are, no doubt, 
intended in the Baltic. These operations have the great advan- 
tage of aecrccy, and are not exposed to the dreadful blunder b}' 
which the ministerial journal announced, on the 20th of July, that 
the attempt un tjcbastopol was to take place that day, the expedi- 
tion having already arrived; the annuunccmcut, too, accompa- 
nied by mention of the different landing-places and their advan- 
tagu^ All this was done with the inevitable alertness of pabUcity. 
when tlie expedition was in reality nut prepared to start even, m 
the middle r>f August. 

The commauders in the Baltic have contrived to set the puUic 
and their caterers altogether off their scent ; the declaration of 
Admiml Berkeley having led us to suppu^e that Cronatadt and 
SneaUorg are impregnable. No rntiuiud ninii, howerer, cam 
believe that tbc French Kmperor has sent 12,(X)0 soldiers to the 
Baltic fur the mere capture of Boniarsund and the Alawl islaoda. 
Troops and guaa still continue to embark at Calais and be wafted 
to the Baltic. They cannot be for Bomnrsund, over which the 
allied flags already Doat : so that we may expect uperations to take 
place in the (jnif of Finland, tdmost as importiuit as that against 
Sebaatopol. The camp of Bouloj^nc, instead of decreasing, or 
bcinf! emptied by the divisions which hare already sailed for the 
Baltic, are, on tbc contrary, more filled with troops than ever. 

The Emperor of the French no doubt judges tliat the Baltic 
has as much need of being set free from the dictatDrahtp of 
Kuiinn as the Blnck Sea has. Prussia and Russia being apparently 
united in supporting the supremacy of the latter power, it behoves 
France and England to look seriously to some counterpoise. If 
tbey seek to make Turkey strong and inde])eadent, because it holds 
the keys of tlie Kusiuc, so it is equally necessary to strengthen 
the power which commands the Sound. As to Denmark, it ia 
evidently but a Russian province, under a dynasty, too, that ia 
about to expire. Instead of lending their hand to the soecession 
of tbe Uuu»e of Glucksburg, the allies might resuscitate the 
welt-known scheme for uniting the three Scandinavian kingdoms, 
and then plant one great empire, necessarily anti-Russian, astride 
the catraiive o( tbe Baltic. Such a policy as this would be far 
better than argiag iSwcden to nndeitake tVic cou^^e«t. f^i kWaad, 



and, M 



laon that Russia could ncTcr make, and which would lead to 
an Fternal struggle. Finland is at the ven,- door of the Kusbtnn 
capital. Russia catmut hti said to fsist without it, whilst ii is uot 
at all Dcccssarj' to tlic coni|>lction of a SircdijiU empire. Fiulnud 
vuuld be n soorce of weaJcucss, not streugtb, to Swedeii, whilst^ 
on tho contrary, the threo Scandinavian kingdoms would help and 
raaimify' each other, and form a naval and military power of 
aimust the first order. 

Hr the accoQuts which reach n^ from the southern shore* 
of tiic Haltic, it would appear as if Rtu:«ia feared neither Uic 
■tlsck of the great forCresMis in the Galf of Finland, nor a niodi- 
Ication of the ScandinaTinn kingdoms. AVhnt they seem to ex- 
pect, is a landing on the coast of some of the semi-Germau, semi- 
Polish provinces of Russia — Rig^i, perhaps, or elsewhere. Against 
ftUT such attempt tlicy are making large ji reparations. But, how- 
ever achcmes of this kind might be meditated in springy, at the 
fini breaking up of tbe ice, it is little probable that (licy would 
be Dndertakeu at a later season of the year, great loss and risk 
bring to be incurred for no permanent advantage. 

But that the season will be allowed to pass without some more 
Mtfioo* achievement in the Baltic than the capture of Bomar- 
mid^ we do not l^elierc. And if Schastupol and Swe:iburg be 
Ksnita of the campaign, neither the year nor its expenses will 
have been thrown away, even though they may not produce 
peace. Active and snccessful operations in the field con alone do 

P.S, The last accoimts from the Black Sea arc most nntoward. 
tlicy represent the French as so cut up by cholera and dumoml- 
iird by its etfecta, as to leave Marshal Ht. Arnaud doubtful as to 
the poi«il>()itr of undertaking the expedition to the Crimea. The 
Marshal is represented as never having been well-disposed to the 
■chcme. If so, our having; allowed it to interfere wilh an advance 
mto Vallachia, where we ahonld have had far more healthy quar- 
ters and more abundance in Bucharest, was a fatal mistake. 

If the expedition to Sebastopol be impossible, in consequence of 
the state of the French army and tbeir want of Irauspurtt, the 
English army ought not to be allowed to lose the whole campaign, 
which will have a very bad cffcot. It might sail at once for 
ArtOttm, and it could, ere the autumn van over, completely 
fc rt ro y the Russian power in Georpa, and give thai superiority to 
tbe Turkish arby in that region, without which the Sultan runs 
the risk of losing Kars and Erzcrouro. If this be not di>De, the 
campaigo, on the whole, will have been a failure. 



It is rcmarknblc thiit the liiutorinu Rankc sliouUl have written 
n Tolumc — iind one of his licst volumes — npou Turkey and Spain, 
joiuiiig them together in one series of rcmiirks, as if they were 
pronuces of the sannt etnpirc and [uirts of the same K}'8tem. And 
no doubt t)icre is great aifinity, ns there has "been great nnta- 
;;uiiism, between the races, which bcth tu-dny »rc struggling fur 
regciicmtion, iind dcninmling Kuro|)('iiii nttcnttun. 

At the prcscat niciucut, uo politician is prepared or inclined to 
cooaidcr any country for itself or by itself. What men contem- 
plate ftt present, is Kuropc in the mass, its prospects, and the 
events or the results ot' the struggle that is in progress. Wiiea 
one looks at Spiiin, therefure, it is the s.'inie as when one looks at 
Tiirltey; the connection of cither with Ibc rest of Kuroiie, aiid 
their indueiice oil the greiit political drama of the d.iy, are of far 
more impuvtancc, or iit least of far greAter iiitercHt, thau the 
exclusively national politics of any. There was a time when one 
night take part with AcEchid or with Riza, with Espartero or 
Narvaez. But peraounl heroism aud preference have dwiuiUed ; 
even preference between liberal and illiberal, between constitu- 
tions and despotisms, Imve iilmost diwipjieared. 

The question, tlicrcfore, with rej^ard to the Peninsula is, how 
far it is likely tu become uguin u tirst-ra.te power, and to weigh as 
such in the scale of Knropc. At present, Spain is a second-rate 
power, and Portugal a fifth-rale ; their chief importance has been 
derived from the circumstance of English and French Govem- 
mcut3 quarrelling aliout them ; but of themselves they arc little 
or nothing, as 'm evident from the last year, \Yhen England and 
Franre were in no conditiiui ur circumstnnces to quarrel for any 
such points. The slate of the Peninsula, its force or weakncsft, 
freedom or servitude, is much more important to France than to 
Us. It is, in fnet, only important tu us, in prupurliun as we 
consider Prance as a rival and an antagonist ; for then wc want 
Spain to be independent of France and hostile to it. And, io 
fact, it wiLs (jur antagonism tu Prance, which made us, during 
these Uiat two centnrica, so anxious to render Spain independent 
uf French influence. Let England and France be firm friends, 
nnd it is uf little consequence to cither what Spaniards may think 
or may do. 

And this was the great mistake of the House of Orleans and of 
nil its state^^raen. The true force and position of Louis Philippe 
was, as King uf France, in complete amity with Kuglnud; and, 
as such, dictating to the rest of Europe — the poaition, in fact, 
that the Emperor Napoleon has seized. InstcftH of *>•'■• ' 
PliJli/jpc, buth in Syria and in Spain, pro''^ 
*/r//» existed between France and Eoje* 






vu but n name aud a sbam. The CMiosequencc was, timt he 
derived no real benelit or dimity from that aUinoce, such as 
Napoleon hits done. In fact, Louis Philippe's bclinvjour to 
England was that of a prince meditating aud prepnriug for a 
foturc TTar with it. "Whereas the Emperor Napoleon HI. acts &% 
if peace was the normal nud uatunil state between the cuuutrivs. 
Sucli being the relations between France and Kiighind, tlic atuto 
of Spain is a circuraatance of inferior importance. Of course the 
French Court is iuteresteil In preserving Madrid from the rule 
of any party, which would uflbrd refuge aud ruuiitcnaticc to the 
exiles of France, democrat or other. And Kugland is interested 
in keeping the trade ui' Spain upea, and the debts of Spain to 
Knglitihtncn paid. As llus Eiupcrcir Najiolcon himself ta be- 
coming a free-trader, his policy is not the narrow one of demand- 
ing preferential duties and treatment in Spanish ports. His 
■new* of government mar not be the same aft ours; but it does 
not appear that he in bigoted in hi^ political opiuion^, or that he 
believes absolutism, liovrever necessnr)' at present for France, to 
be equally indinpensablc for other countries. On the contrary, 
tfic llaiperor of tlie I'Veuch supports, and has supported, a liberal 
and eoostitutioual party in Piedmont. 

MorcoTcr, the present Government of France has no party in 
Spain, nor ia there any party to be found in Spain that has 
a^nity to the Kmpcror and his system. Louis Philippe nia- 
Jinked Spain through the Moderados and the Queen-Mother. 
Xngland exercised influence thntugh Espnrtero luid the Kx- 
althdoa. Xapolcon favours the Church, no donht, but it would 
be dtUicult to make the t>panish monks put trust iu the nephew 
rof Mapnleun the First. The SpaniHh towns are idtra>liberal, the 
tiSpanish ariitocTftcy has the prejudices of its order. There is, ia 

:t, no clats of Spiiuiarda ou which the present ruler of France' 
^conld ddpend for support ; and, accordingly, if Lout!) Napoleon, 
be as wise with regard to Spain, as he has shown himself in hia 

lUcy with regard to other eouutries, he will interfere with it as 
Ittle as possible, and not more than he requisite for his own 

There has, however, been one event mooted, u-hieh would,. 
indeed, change the character and fortune of the whole Peniniula, 
and render not only England and France, but all Europe, deeply 
interested in its development. For this event, instead of leaving 
La second-rate and a fittli-ratc power between the .\llantic, the 
Ueditcrraneau, and the Pyrenees, would at once give birth to a 
first-rnte nation, in possession of one of the noblest pusttions for; 
at least naval enterprise. Wc speak of the union of the two, 
crowns of Spain and Portugal. That such nnion had not been;' 
effected long since is a marvel. It is only to be accounted for by 
the circumstance of Spain itself remnining divided, even when its 
mihlary strength was at its hei'^^ht. When the Spaniards con- 
ned the Moors, theirs was a divided sovereignty. Chnrles tha 
the monarch who ought to have accomplished the task. 
mmersed in German jwUcy and European ^Wvt^^Xjuo 
jf Ilia even caathg a thoitglil upon Porlu^tA. Xxxi, 




tfaoogli his son Philip achieved it, it 

uicreljr to cause so muck 
resentment in Portugal, thitt the 
kingdoms flew asuuder with grcnler violence than before. Since 
then, to the coiuumuccmcut of the present ceuturj, Spain and 
Portugal were Courti, not countries, the energies of both spent 
in Trntu^atlautiu eflurts and ambiliuD, iguuraut aud recUcsti of 
each other. 

One of the most singular characteristics of the Peninsula is, that 
its sous should have led the way iu Trmi&uthiutiv and Indian dis- 
covery and empire, that is, that they shouJd have opened the great 
comoitioLcition bcttrccu different parts of the globe, whilst they 
left the communications between diiroreut ports of tht-ir own coun- 
try irapractieable. Spain hn-s magiiifioeiit riven*, niuuinf; cast, 
we^t, and ftouth. She has Kcarccly made use of any. IiiNtcnd of 
making use of tlic Tagus, planting a capit:d upon it^ and following 
it out to the sea, the Spaniards seemed to have shunned Ibe 
river, and allowed the Portuguese to seize its mouth, iience a 
maritime empire has no outlet from her centre to the sea, sare 
by long and circuitous routes over the Sierra Morcun to Cadic, 
or over a route as difficult aud drear to Coruuna. If it were 
cidculated how ninny opportunities were lost, disasters incurred, 
and time thrown uway, by delays of orders on the road between 
the coast of Spain nud the sea-ports, they would amount to a sum 
capable of cooqueriu:^ or purchasing Portugal twenty times over, 
ludccd, the mere mutinies, aud consequent revolutions, which 
have commenced st Cadiz and (^ruuua, thu&c rugious so remote 
firom aod strange to the nutboritics and ideas of Madrid, might 
alone have taught the Kings of Spatu to hare esLublished their 
navnl ]iorts and outlets in more direct and natural eommuni- 
catiou with the central waters, valleys, and regions of the king- 

Tliero is, however, no country in the world, for which its 
monarchs have done so little, as for Spain; none in which sove- 
reign nmer has worked more harm, in destruction of all freedom 
and all prosperity, ginng absolutely notbiug in exchange, not 
even the courtly politeuesa aud literature of the French Court. 
Yet in uo country have mounrchs been more worshipped, and 
royal races so clierinlied iu the hearts of the people. Hi^itory 
does not record the names of two more despicable princes than 
Charles aud Fcrdiuand. Yet for M'tiat priuocs have nntions ever 
made such sacrifioes aud such efforts, as Spain did for these? 

Bourbon princes, however, have had the peculiar art of ren- 
dering themselves odious to the people; and, whether in France^ 
Naples, or Spain, tlie universal feeling is, that it were better to 
do without muiiarchy altu^thcr, than take one of that incor- 
rigible race. This is lo manifest at Madrid, that it has iuspircd 
the partisans of the Uouse of Coburg with tbe idea t^ uniting the 
two crowns of tbe Peninsula, aud of conferring both upon the 
heir of the Portuguese throne. Such an event, could it be 
accomplished without convulsion or civil war, would be a ^nttb 
boon to the whole Peninsula. It would giro Spaiu the natunl 
outlet to the ocean from its central provinces, the want of which. 






impererialin £fltrani(ulQn aud tbe CutiUec, whilst Portagtl, 
likr Scotland, would be reliered of the tar too ouerous burden of 
feeding and pnyin^; a Court and army, and a vorld of otficinl«. 
BoUi countries, though deprived of their vast colonies, which 
rendered each too powerful and considerable to permit of their 
union, have Btili preserved valuable possessioue, which recjuiro 
their united navies to defend and to prcserrc; vbiUt the mere 
bet of more than half the New World speaking their langtiagc, 
ensures a preference of tradt: and coniuiLTciul connection in the 
■ootbcrn beniiKphfn?, mIiU which even Kngland can sotrci-ly eom- 
pstc It i« thus as a lunritimc, rather than as a mitil-arr power, 
that the FeniuButa wuuld resuscitate. And the union of the 
two crowns may be considered a neceaaary |ircUmiuury to their 

But that the countries arc ripe for thin innv be doubted. For, 
although S|>ain and Portuf^l would both f^in, inftncntinl indi- 

luahi and clsMei in both would lo»e. Two Courts nnd two 
lOues amalgamating into one wuuld tlirufct mauy ii di^iiitar^ 
nde. The aovercign of one country iihonid necessarily he ad- 
vmnocd to the sovereignty of both, and even though the king 
of the smnllcr had this fortune, still it would look like conquest, 
be offciisire to the pride of a nntion. Moreover, it is the 
and tmdiug clnaces who would profit by such a union ; 
and tliey, however they may form the majority, have not the in- 
fluence or the CKinfideucu of sucli, the chief power in both eountriea 
bftving bc«n now for years in the hands of the eonrtiers and the 
Hefii of the flimy. These arc tlic Ter}- people who would lose 
by the junction, Hud who wuuld nntiirally be most averse to 
iL The hoar, thcrcfunr, that is to secure the nnton of Spain and 
PoftofpU is not yet at hand. 

Nothing, too, is likely to prevail in the PeninKuIn for some 
lime, iutve that which wields material force. Thus the people 
nny be masters at one time, and the soldiers may be lords at' 
auotbcr. Both nre of their nnturc violent nnd proud to extremes, j 
And, indeed, as tlits is the Spanish ehamcter, the very civiffj 
clauses partake of it, and are as little inclined to moderatiou, I 
when they are masters, as the classes abwe and below them. Ai 
Spaniard has but one way of treating an enemy that of slnyini 
bim. Ur. Ford tells you, that Don Carlos's rule of sliooting al 
the prisoners that came into his hands, waa nothing either extra-^ 
L.ordinan' or rcprehen*ible. It was merely part of the SpanishJ 
idiaracter — cogatt de Etpana. But the»c roMU arc neither mor 
[mr len than barluirisms. Any kind of political freedom rrqnirc4.| 
[that the victor should not only spare an enemy, but respect himJ^ 
Constitutional government or liberty were as impossible under tl 
■Convention, whcii*a politician guillotined his rival, as it was ii 
^£Bgland, when Cavaliers and ftouudheads came to cut each othc 

TIks« is now, we trust, a fair prospect of this system of mutual 
murder and proscription being put an end to. Sonic of the cir* 
eumitanoes nttcnding the present state of Madrid do not certainly 



tell in farour of such Iiopcs ; bat a revolutioa cnnnot be accom* 
plished without rcvculing soroctbing of the hideous and the 
foolish. Thus it has becu tho people of llic cnpital, rnbble aad 
citizeus iatermixcd, who fouglil iu the harricndcs of Madrid, and 
who, more than O'Donncll, Imvc compelled thcCourt to uricciimb. 
The riotLTs havu indulged in somu nets of vcngcauce. They took 
the Police Director, Chico, as well ns }ih s(>cund in coninmnd and 
cruelty, and shot tbcm both in a very »uram(ir>' manner. "W'c 
cau itay ia uxeusu, if auch things cau be excused, that if, in Paris, 
in July, lS;iO, there had existed an individunl who had tortured 
nnd persecuted the people for so many years r% Chico had done ia 
!Madrid, he would have found no nierey from the ParisiHUs; for 
it waa not merely politieal ofl'cncca that Chico pcmecnled and 
punished — he made himself often the instrument of private hate 
and jealousy, and be would thrust a man into a dungeon for 
months to gratify his priratc spleen, or avenge a proud and con- 
teoiptuous look, no miuiKter or tribunal daring to interfere. 
Cbico was ^uppoi-ted in his infamies hy the Uueen-Muthcr, of 
whom be w!is the devoted instrument, who bore a great portion of 
the odium which has accrued to that princess. The idea of trying 
or imprisoning her seems absurd nnd insnue. But it is well recol- 
lected, that the revolution by which Xarvaex overthrew Espar- 
tcro was prepared and paid for out of the wealth which Christina 
had amassed abroad, and which shv transmitted from Paris far 

Sj'iiig the military insurrection. Hence it may be, that whilst 
pnrtero and O'Donucll woiihJ gladly ttao her out of the country, 
and once more at her palace of Malniaison, the Progresiiiiitas iu 
general may not be convinced of the prudence of allowing her to 
escape. And it may br the act of tliem, or some of them, nnd 
not the mere impulse of the ^f »drid mnb, which refuJics free egress 
to the equipages and the person of !Maria Cbrislitia. 

"When the mob or even the people of a city ean dictnte to a 
Governmeut, can mark ont and strike down itti own victims, it 
is evident this Government can only go on in one of two way»— 
either by humouring the popular caprice and tlic gratification of 
what most delights its vindictivctiess, or by comnig to n collision 
with the people and putting tbera down. In times of revolution, 
a man that has reached the head of affairs, must be cither a 
Robespierre or » Cuvaignac. A civilian has often no choice, ho 
knows not how to repressj but the military chief of an insur- 
rection infallibly has recourse to bayonets, and in the present 
state of Madrid military repression is almost inevitable. If 
Espartero undertakes this task, his popularity, like that of Cn- 
vaignae, «ill vauisb in consequence; as the Progrcsaistas are com- 
mitted to repression, the Moderados, under such a man ns 
O'DonnclI, might take advantage of it, and •succeed to power. 
ThuB was it in France after 1848; the mUitary leaders of the 
popular party were driven to use repression, by so doing lost 
])Opularity, and, losing that, were easily set aside by the Modcratca. 
To respect tlie turbulence and exigeueje* of the mob, therefore, 
■without forfeiting popularity with the citizens and cnligbteued 





liberals, OTer the countn' and in its prortnciaj towns, formg the 
difficult tflak ur E.-t|tarti;rD, iif which it is to he luipcd he will 
arqtiit himself M-ith patience, firmness, and addres-s. 

'I lie next dilliculty it tlic army, in not having mnEtcrcd and 
mnnnped vrliich lulroilly, liiy tliu rauRC of Kspnrtero's having so 
cgrctjiuusly fniled, and having been driven (mm the lt«gency. His 
rule, both military anil civil, vrjin then found fiiult with ns vulgar 
and dull. Ho kept the Unccn-Motlier awny, and the young 
tjnccn under the tutelage of plain unconrtly persons. The young 
ofhccrs sighed lor the splendour of the palace. Were Maria Chris- 
tina Kegent of the kingdom and of her daughter, it Ti-na aaid, such 
Were a regime more agreeable to young officers, more conducive to 
(heir advancement, and more congenial to their chivalrous qnaliiica. 
•Hiesc were the motives that made dnshing officers like Diego Leon 
rebel against Espartero. Though he failed, Xnrvncz ancccedcd. 
But instead of the voun^ chivalrv of the armv finding what lYicv 
expected, they found the revenues of the kingdom gravped by the 
Muunz», nud the splcudour of royalty shed on unworthy favour- 
ites. In short, the Moderados, military as well as civilians, bccnmc 
more »ick of the Quccn tlinn they had been of Hspartero, and 
the iirniy^ which had deserted him, hu» deserted tlicm aluo, as wc 
bate seen, in course of time. And this certainly in a considcm- 
tion that tells strongly iu favour of the young king of Portugal. 
Of a family noted fur its decorum and its virtues, be might keep 
SQch a court ns Spaniards would Uke to frequent. Whereas 
Isabella, with a husband whom she and all the world contemn, can 
never have a court devoid of ridicule and scnndnl ; and indeed it, 
goes far to disgust Spaniards nut only with Uourbous, but with 
kings and queen:) altogether. 

K% yet, Moderado3 and Progresaistas, Espartero and (yDonnell, 
seem to have agreed very fairly, with respect to militmy appoint- 
ments. They have been given to liberals and to Moderados alter- 
nately and in equal proportion. As for several years the appoint- 
ment of otlicers fa.-is lu-eu in .Moderado bauds, it may hcdifhcnlt to 
carrj- on this equsdity. The army is not liberally composed or 
oliicere<l, and such a general as Narvaor. would find far more 
sympathy there, than Kspurtcro. Jlut the calling of the national 
goards of towns under arms, especially if wisely regulated, so as 
to exclude the idle and disorderly, will give to l^ogressista chiefs 
a force cHpablc of couuterbahiucing the Modcrado propensities 
of the mnjority of the urmy. 

71ie printipsl difficulty, however, for the once rival parties now 
iu conjunction to settle, is the law of elections; fur in that 
consists the decision of where power shall lie. If the elections be 
fair, as the franchise includes the smaller townsfolks and proprie- 
tors, ilie Progresaistas will be in a large majority. The Modcrndo 
strength lies amongst the emphtj4* of the State, and the upper and 
profeasional classes connected with them. It was only by uar- 
rowing tbc franchise and intimidating the popular elections, that 
the Moderados obtained the majority in the last Cortes- Indeed 
ao effectual were tbctr mcasurea, that they formed not only the 

VOL. xiivi. a 



majority, but evidently composed the Cortes. The Liberals we: 
neither represented nor tlcrtcd. The Constilutiun was ft»r them 
au exclusion. And if now recurrence he had to the old Constitu- 
tion, the Moderndos will in time be totally excluded. Of course, 
what is desirable ia a compromise. But huw fix a term to it, or hov 
persuade the cilixens to be contented with Ies« ihnn their oU 
rights T Besides the last trials of CDnstituttODnl government were 
mndc br the Hodcrndos, and had for result that the Qneen set 
aside their parliamentary chiefs, and tnmed off Martinez-de-la 
ilosa and Men, jnst as uDcererooniously ns she got rid of Arguelles 
and Calatravft. It is, therefore, now the turn of the Progressistiui 
to try. For there is a law of alteruntion in free Oorernroenta, 
which demands that by fiiir means or by foul each side should 
haTC its period of ascendancy and its share of power. 

Accunling to the Uist accounts, it had been agreed to aummon 
what is railed a Constituent ('ortes, which is a conccision to the 
Moderados, as tlie Constituent Cortes form part of the old and 
liberal Constitution. At the same time the powers of the old 
Provincial Deputations have been rcrived. The two measures 
favour the tendencies of the moment, which arc to disseminate 
power in the provinces, rather tlian centralis!* it in the capital. 
And the provinces, especially the remote ones, will perhaps make 
use of it, so as to establish a genuine federal system, io lieu of 
that which has liithcrto prevailed. 

One of the characteristics and diflicnlties of Spain is. Chat 
vitality resides either in the capital, or at the extremities. There 
are nctive spirits and strong opinions in Catalonia and Ara;;on, 
and Barcelona and Saragossa, as well as in the Basque provinces, 
and along the littoral of the nortli. Then again there are moat 
combustible spirits in Andalusia and along the sonthcrn coasts, 
at Cadiz and Seville, and each seaport round to Valencia, But in 
the centre nil is dead; the population of the Catlitrn and Kstre- 
madura are as indifferent to constitutional govemment, to pro- 
gress and tu pohtical ideas, as the most transccndant Toit conid 
desire. And there is no great city or town of the central region, 
with the exception of Madrid, that has an opinion. Thus it was, 
that when O'Donncll quitted Madrid, he was obliged to go to 
Andalusia to find support. He fonnd no enemies indeed, ia 
Castile, but he found no friends. Espartero and- the Prc^esststaa 
arc evidently the popular personages on the north coast of Spatn^ 
the Moderados arc strong in Andalusia, except perhsps nt Cadis. 
The lower orders, howcrer, iu both regions are turbulent and 
Ttulent ; and there is everywhere a class possessed of fortune 
and influence, and which is cs,scntin]|y Moderado, and which, in 
dread of the populace, would go crea to the French length of a 
permanent dictatorship. 

Fears have been cxpi-esscd of the Spaniards forming a rei}ublic. 
By this is mennt a republic after the recent French fsshinn. Tho 
elements of this arc, liuwevcr, utterly wanting in Spsin. The 
basis of the French republic was the artizan class, sufficiently 
edncated to think themselves able to make c:iperiments in gorein- 






kt, nnd of even fioding chiefs niirl profctmora iti the more inti^ 

inl ciasa of ennit-Ts like tlienisclvcs, TIic nunilicr of cither ttf 

these 19 very feu* in Spnin. No rt-puLlic could he inslalled at 

Mnilrirl that cniild with^tniid a charge nf cavalry ; nor even at 
Barcelona, wlicre the ideas of the French democracy more prevail, 
could there be a hope uf hui&tiii^' the bluod-red iln^ uoder the 
ipins of the citadel. The only n-public possibU' in Spain would be 
a federal republic, Hkc those uf the United States, and of «ome 
States of South America. 

The very tncnlion of these Transatlantic essays at a republican 
form of {government, lendi one to augur ill of any similar experi- 
netit on the Peninsula. To federaltse more — that is, to allow 
prcatrr local anthnrity and freedom to the provinces — is iiccessarv. 
But thib is bc^t tried under a monarchy. For were the cxjicrimcut 
of a republic scriouitly tried iu Spain — not merely a red or demo- 
«ratic republic, but even of a federal one, in which the citi]:cns and 
mlightened classes would hare their due share of iufluence— 
the consequence nonld be the rise of the same kind of stru^lc 
■which lias taken place, and which still Vive*, in Mexico and the 
flalii — that is, the eternal war between the provinces nud the 
capital, the federalists and the unitarians. Such a r^^^tiKf, instead 
of power and liberty-, would produce Rosases and Sauta Annas; 
and Spain^ instead of progressing, would become an object of 
cnmpa&sion, perhaps of ambition, and be the scene of intri^c 
for other and neighbouring countries. 

The Kmperor of the FrtMich, however, in the plenitude of his 
, power, will toleratA no republic in Madrid, neither will he tolerate 
a Moutpeusier. If the Spanish liberals, therefore, wish to avoid 
contention with France, they will preserve Isabella and constitu- 
tional monarchy with her. This is the plain policy of the moment, 
and it seems th:it of both O'Douncll and EKpartero. As long as 
these two chiefs remain united, no one can overthrow or stand 
before tliem. Karvaer. kiiowa this; and they know that their 
nnioQ alone can keep out and tiullify Narvacz. Therefore they 
remain close friends and allies by imperative Ticccssity, as well as, 
perhaps, by good feeling. 

Another circumstance is arising at the present moment which 
should induce ditTcroiit parties to unite, and which must induce 
France and Kugliiud to exert their utmost to give strength and 
nnity to the governing power of Spain : this is, the menacing atti- 
tude which the American President all of a sudden n^^umes 
towards Cuba, the occupatiou of the maritime forces of France 
and England in the Black Sea and in the Baltic being thought^ 

ferhnps, to otlc-r a good opportunity for American aonexntion. 
'rauce and Kn^^buul couhl not but interfere to prevent such aa 
a^lTCsiion if Spjiiii proved uncijual to defend herself; and we 
afaould then have another distressing war to complicate the one in. 
which we are already engaged. Wise conduct and wise councnli 
It Madrid can alone obviate so untoward a result. 



By Cuahlcb Heads, 


ConPOBAL. Patrick was correct in his details; the P:iris)i 
Register gave n very vague outline of llnchael Wright's history. 
Mr. Hickman hail gone tlirough the ceremony of marrying her ; 
nav more, at the time he had firmly intended the ceremony should 
bc'binding, fcr liiii wife lay dyini* a hundrcil miles ofl'^aiid Rachael 
liad at this period great cx|>i'ctations from licr aunt, Nlrs. Clayton. 
This Mrs. Clayton was the [jossessor of Bix I'arm. She was & 
queer-tempered v.'omart, and » severe economist; this did not 
prevent her allowinj; Patrick nnd Raeliacl a yearly sum, which 
helped to uiaintain them in homely ccmfort. And she used to 
throw out mysteritms hints that, at her death, the pair would be 
better off than other relations of hers, who dressed Hncr and held 
their heads higher at present. Unfortunately fur Itachael this 
aunt was alive at the period when Hickman's bigamy was disco- 
vered by old Patrick. The said :iunt had never dune anything of 
the kind herself, nobiuly had ever married, lier illegally, and she 
could, not conceive how such a thinj; could take place without the 
woman being in fault as well as the man; so she was very cross 
about it, and discontinued her ^ood odices. ThcCorjioral wished 
to apply the law at once to Hickman ; but he found means to 
disarm Rachael, and Raehael disarmed the old soldier. Kachael, 
youn^, inexpfriciiccdj and honest, was easily induced to believe in 
Ilickman*s penitence, and she never doubted that upon his wife's 
death, who was known to be incurahly ill, Kicharil would do her 
ample right. So meantime she agreed to do herself injustice. 

Mrs. IJickman died within a short time of the exposure; but 
unfortunately for Kachael, another person died a M'eck or two 
before her, and that person was Uachacl's aunt. No will appeared, 
except an old otic which was dulv cancelled by the old lady 
liorsctf, in the follo^viii" maimer: — tirst, all the words wcreinkeil 
out with a pen ; secondly, most of them were scratche*! out with 
a knife; lastly, a formal document was afhxcd and witnessed, 
rendering the said instrument null as well ns illegible. This 
unfortunate testament bequeathed Bix Farm to Jack White, her 
graceless nephew. He had offended her after the will was tnade, 
ao she annulled Uic will. The graceless nephew could afford to 
smile at these evidences of wrath ; he haj)pened to be her heir-at- 
law, and succeeded to Hix In the ahsencv of all testament to the 
contrary. Hickman was with his dying wife in Somersetshire. 
7Yic news about Bix reached him, and he secretly resolved to 




4iftre nothing more to do latth lUchaeL To cairy out tliis witli 
more securitj", the wretch wrote her affectionate letters from time 
tu time, giving plausible excuses for remaining in Somersetshire; 
and 8ohe carried on the gnmc for three months after bJs wife was 
dead ; he then quietly dropped the mask and wrote no more. 

So matters went nn for some vears, until ore dav the gracolc^s 
nephew finding Avnrk a liore, announced Bix Farm to let. Poor 
Hickman had set his heart upon this Bix, and as he could not 
have it for his own, lie thought he should like to rent it, so he came 
up and made his offer, and was accepted as tenant. The rest the 
reader knows, I believe ; but what iron passed througli the hearts 
of Hflchacl and the old soldier all this time, that let me hope he 
knows not. 

caAfTEn VIII. 

The events we have recorded had no sooner taken place, than 
ft great changa seemed to come over Mrs. Mayfield. She went 
about her avocations as usual, but not with the same nlncritv; and 
her spirits were so unstrung, that every novv and then she burst 
into tears. The feraate servants, honest country wenches that 
were not sublimely indifferent, like London domestics, to every- 
Iwdy in the house but themselves, seeing the glooiu of the house^ 
and Mrs, Maytield cnutiuuidly crying who nL':ver cried befurc^ 
began to whimper for 8yn>pathy, and the bouse was a changed 
house, liobert had disappeared ; and they all felt it was n charity 
not to ask where, or to go near him for a while: nil but the 
mother, who could not resist the yearnings of a mother's nature ; 
she crept silently at a distance, and watched her boy, lest per- 
chance evil should befall him. 

Mrs. MayBeld then, after many efforts to go through her usual 
duties, gave way altogether, and sat herself down in her own 
parlour, and cried over all the sorrow that had cumc on the farm ; 
and as all generous natures do, if you give them time to think, she 
blamed herself more than any one else, and wished herself dead 
and cut of the way, if by that means the rest could only be made 
]iappy as they used to be. While she was in this mood, her head 
buried in hcrhand5, she heard n slight noise, and, looking up, saw 
a sorrowful face at the door : it was .Mr. Ca«enower. 

** I am come to bid you gond-byc, Mrs. Mayfield." 

•' Come to bid me good-bye ? " 

" Yes. All my things are p-icked up except Ihis, which I hope 
you will do me the favour to accept, since I am going away and 
shall never lease you again." 

" You never teased me that I know," said Mrs. Mayfield, very 
gently. " What is it, sir}" 

** it is my collection of birds' eggs : will you look at it }" 

" Yea. vVhy, here arc a hundred different sorts, and no two 
kinds alike." 

'• No two kinds ? I should thiuk not. No t«o e^%, "^Q^i. 



" How beautiful they look when you see tbem in such num- 
bers ! " 

"They arc bcnutiftil. Nature is very skilful; we don't tak« 
half an many bints from her as we might. Do you obsert-e these 
egg8 all of one colour — these deUcate blues — these exquisite 
drabs ? If you ever wish to paint a roum, take one of theste eggs 
for a model, and you will arrive at such tints as no [lainter ever 
imagined out of his own head, I know. I once hoped we should 
make these experiments togetlier; but it was not to be. Guod- 
bycj dear Mrs. Maylield !" 

** Oh ! Mr. Cascnowcr, I did not think you came to quarrel 
with me." 

'* Heaven forbid ! But vou Iotc somebody else." 

"No: I don't," 

" Yes: you know you do; and you rejected mc this morning." 

" I remember 1 was rude to you, sir ; I knocked a flower oat 
of your hand. Does that rankle in your heart so long?'' 

** Mnt. Mayiield, it is for your sako 1 am going, not out of 
anger; you know that very well." 

" I know no such thing, it is out of spite; and a pretty time to 
sliow your spite, when my heart is breaking. If you went to 
please me. you wnuld wait till I bid you go." 

" You don't bid me go, then?" 

" It doesn't seem like it." 

*' You bid me stay?" 

*' Not I, sir. Don't let me keep you here against your will." 

" But it is not against my will- only you seemed to hate me 
this morning." 

'* What signiBea whiit I did tiiis morning?" cried Kfrs. Mayfield, 
sharply, *' it is afternoon ntm*. This morning they put mc out ; I 
wanted somebody to quarrel with; you came in my way, so 1 
quarnrlled willi ymi. Now I have made voti all unhappy, so I am 
miserable myself, as I deserve; and now 1 want somebody to 
comfort me, and you come to mc; but instead of cumrurting me, 
all you can think of is lo quarrel with me — oh ! oh ! oh !" This 
Bpeech was ioliowed by a flood of tears. 

Casenower drew his chair close to hers, and took her hand, 
and promiBcd to console her — to die for her, if necessary. 

'* Tell me your Irouble." said he, " and you sliall see how soon 
1 will cure it, if a friend can cure iL Mrs. .\Iuyfield — Rose — what 
is the matter >" 

" Dear Mr. Casenower, Robert is in love with that ilachael — 
the farmer has insulted her, and sent her and her grandfather 
away— Robert is breaking his heart; — and all this began with a 
word of mine, though that blackguard Hickman is more to blame 
still. Bui I am a wuman that likes to make people happy about 
mc; I may say I live for that; and now 1 her are all unhappy: 
and if I knew where to find a dose of ]}uiHon, ) would not be long 
before I would t.-ikc it this day. I can't bear to make people 
unhappy — obi oh! oh!" 



" Don't cry, dearest," said Caaenower; ** yoa uh^\ have your 
wish ; yuii shali make everybody happy!" 

" Oil, nu, no ! that is impossible iiiiw." 

•• No sucii thing— there is no miscliicf that can't he eured— look 
here. Rose, the old farmer at very lond of money ; Rachael is poor ; 
well, 1 am rich. I will soon find Rubert a tlioosand pounds or two, 
and he shall have the girl he likes." 

**Ah, Mr. Castnowcr, if money could <lo it I should have 
settled it that way myself. Oh ! what a good creature you are. I 
love you — no, I don't, I hate you, because I see how all this is to 
end. \n, no ! we have insulted the poor things and set their 
faearu against us, and we have set poor Robert against the girl, 
who is worth tlic whole pack of us twice counted. They are 
guue, and the old tuan's curse bangs like lead upon tlie house and 
aU in it." 

" Where are they gone?" 

" Newbury way.-'* 


"An hour and a half." 

" In two hours 1 '11 have them hack here." 

" Don't be a fool now, talking ntmsensc." 

** Will you lend me vour marc ? " 

" Yes ! no ! The old farmer would kill us." 

'* Iliing the old farmer! Who cares for bim? Is this your house 
or bis i" 

"Mine, to be sure." 

*' Then I shall bring thcni to this house." 

"Yea, but— but — " 

"You have a right to do what yoa like in your own bouse, 
jnpposc. Why, how scared you look! Where is all your spirit? 
You have plenty of it sometimes." 

" Denr Mr. Cuenotrer, don't tell anybody, I have not a grain of 
real spirit. 1 am the moat cbiRken-hearted creature in the world, 
only 1 hide it when I fall in with other cowards, and so then 1 c:»n 
bully tliem, yim know. I hav<> Ucctured it over you more than 
once, find so I would again ; but it would he a shame, you are bo 
^ood — and liesides you have found mo out/' 

" Well ! I nni not afraid of anybody, if 1 can please you. I will 
ride after them and fetch them here, and if you are afraid to gi%'e 
them house-room, 1 will hire that empty house at the end of the 
lane, nnd Ibis very night they shiill lie seated in a good bouse, by 
a good fire, before a good supper, within fifty yards of your door." 

" Let me go with you. You don't know the way." 

" Thank you, 1 should be sure to lose the way by myself ; go and 
j|et ynur habit on. Lose no time. I will saddle the horses." 

*■' Jlow a man takes the command of us," thought Mrs. May- 
iield. *' I shall Iiave to mnrrv you for this, I suppose," said she 
gaily, shilling through her late tears. 

"Not unless you like," said Casenower, proudly. ** 1 don't 
vant to entrap you, or take any woman against her wilL" 

TIm Mayfietd coloured up to her eye*. 



**Tou bad better knock me down," said she. "I know vou 
would like tu>" and, casting on her coinpnnion u glaiico of undis- 
guised adniirfttion, she. Aaitcd upstairs for her hnhic. 

Ten minutes later siie was in the !>ad<lle. and giving her mure the 
rein, she went after our poor travellers like a flash of lightning. 

Casenower followed as he might. 


It was a glorious cvcuini^: tlie sun, i^igantic and red, had just 
begun to tip the clouds with ;;o[d, and ruhies^ and promises of a 
fine day to-morrow; the farm was quiet; the farmer's homely 
supper WHS set on a table outside the door, and he and his wife 
sat opposite each other in silence. 

Mrs. Ilathorn helped herself to a morsel ; but she did not care 
to eat it, and, in fact, she only helped herself to encourage her 
husband to cat. She did not succeed ; Farmer Hathom remained 
in o brown study, his supper untasted before him. 

" your supper, husliand." 

" Thank you, wife ; I am not hungry." 

" Take a drop of beer, ihcn/' 

" No, Jane, i am not dry." 

'"' You are ill, then, Jolm ; you don't look well." 

" 1 'm well eriouj^li, I tell you." 

'' You are in trouble, like many more in this house." 

" Me? No: I never was happier in my life!" 

" Indeed ! What is there to be Impny lUiout?" 

*' Come, now, what is it?'* cried tiic farmer angrily. " Out 
with it, and doH't sit loipking at me with eyes like a adder's," 

" My man, you see your conscience in your wife's eyes ; that is 
all the venom they havtr." 

*' You had better tell me Robert is in his senses to love that 
girl. I would cut mv arm oft' at the shoulder si)(jricrthan consent 
to it." 

*' Would you cut your son off sooner?" said Mrs. Hathoni, 
with forced calmness. 

" What do you mean:" 

** You take verv Httlc notice of what passes, John." 

" What do you mean f " 

" Didn't you see what Robert tried for when tlie waggon 
started with them t" 

" Oh, about his fainting I I could have kicked the silly fool i£ 
I hadn't been his father." 

•* Don't you think it is very odd be should faint like that; just 
vnder the wheel of a waggon r" 

" Oh I when a chap swoons away he can't choose the bed be 
falls on." 

" A moment wore the wheel would have been on bis head ; if 
Thowus hadn't been lighLsomc and stopped the horses all in a 



minute, Robert Hathom would have been a corpse in this 


The old man lowered Uis voice: "You bad better tell me you 
tiunlc he did it on purpose ! " 

Mn. Hatliom leaned over the table to him. 

" I don't think it, John ; I am sore of it. Robert never fainted 
lit all; he was as white as his shirt, but he knew what he was 
nbout. from iirst to last. He rhuse his time; and when Rachaelj 
turned her head from him, lie just said, ' Very well, then,' and 
flung himself under the wheel. What did Thomas say, who 
dragged him up from the borers' feet ?" 

" I don't know," said old llathorn, half sulkily, half trembling. 

" He said, * That ia flying in the face of Heaven, youni; master.* 
Jane heard him say it; and you know Thotnaa is a man that 
speaka but little. What did Rore Mayticld say, as she passetl him 
next minute ? * Would you kill your mother, Ilobcrt, and break 
all our hearts f* You cried out^ • Go on — go on.* Robert said' 
lia foot had shmied ; and made as (hough lie would smile at me. 
'Ah! what a smile, John ! If you had hern as near it an I was, 
you wouldn't sleep this nigltl." And Mrs, llathorn began to sob 
violently, and rucked herself to and fro. 

"Then send for them back," cried the farmer, suddenly starting 
up. *' Send, before worse ill comes — confound them !" 

" They will never come back here. They are poor, but honest 
ind proud ; and we have stung them too bitterly, reproaching them 
ritb llieir hard lot." 

« Where is he?" 

" In the barn ; with his face buried in the straw, like one who 
w<mtdn't speak, or see, or hear tlio world again." 

'* Perhaps he ia asleep ? " 

" No, he is not asleep." 

** Give liini time; he'll come to when he has mcd his bellyful." 

" He shed tears ? Oh, no ! it is too deep for that; lie will dio 
by bis own hand, or fret to death. He won't he lung hero, I 
doubt: look for dark days, old man P 

'• W"ife," said Hatborn, trembling, "you are very hard upon 
me : to hear yon, one W'ould say I am a bad father, and am kilting 
my son." 

"No — no — Johnl But we were too ambitious, and we have 
huniblcd the poor and the afflicted ; and Heaven docs not bless 
tbcui that do so, and never will." 

** 1 don't know what to do, Jane." 

•* No more do I, except pray to God : that is my resource in 
ingcra and troubles." 

" Ay ! av ! that can do no harm any way." 

While llie old couple sot there, with gloomy and foreboding 
Jicarts, suddenly a cheerful cry burst u[)ou their ears. It was Mrs, 
layfield's voice; she came cantering up the lane with Mr. Caae- 
nower ; she dismounted. Hung him the bridle, and ran into her 



own house, vhcK slie busied herself in ginng orders and pra^ 
paring two ruonis fur sonic c.<cpf?ctcil visitors. A. few minutes 
mom, and, to the aittonishnicnt of ilathom and delight of his wife, 
the waggon hove in sight with Kaciiael and Patrick. 

They descendtd from the wa^on, and were led hy Mr. Casc- 
nower itiLu Mrs. Maytictd's house, and there, after nil tiiia day's 
fatigues and sorrows, they found a welcome and bodily repose. 
But Knchael showed great nneasincss; she had been very re- 
luclant to return ; but Mrs. Maylield had begged them liolh so 
bard, with the tears in her eyes, and Patrick liiul sho^m so strong 
a wish to come back, that she liad yielded a pasaire consents 
When the news of their return was brought to Robert by bi« 
mother, he betrayed himself to her ; he threw his arms round her 
neck hke a girl — but in his downcast look, and dogged manner, 
none of Liic others could discover u-hether he was glad or sorry. 
He went about his work, next morning, as usual, and did not even 
make an inquiry about liacbael. 

It was about tuclvc o'clock the next day, that Mrs. Mayficld 
observed him return from the field, and linger longer than usual 
in the neighbourhood of the house, bhc inrited RAchacl to come 
and hiok at her pet calf, and walked her most ucachurousty right 
up to Robert. 

"Ob!" cried she, "you must excuse roe, here is Robert, he 
will do as well. Hubert, you take and shotr her my calf, the red 
and white one, thaf's a goud soul, they want me in-doors." 
And in a moment she was gone, and left Robert and Rachael look- 
ing aUernatclv at each other and the grouitd. 

When Kuse left these tno togetlier, she tliougfat, innoc«ntly 
enough, that the business was half clone, as far as they were con- 
cerned. She had not calculated the characters of the parties, and 
their pride. They were little nearer eacii other now than at 
twenty miles distant. 

" \Vcil, Racbacl," said Robert, " I am glad you are here again ; 
they were wrong to insult you, and now they are right to bring 
you back ; but it is no business of mine." 

" No, Master Robert," said Rachael quietly, " and it is against 
my will i am here." 

With these words she was moving away, when Robert in- 
tercepted her, and, intercepting her, said, "Oh! I don't hinder 
you to stay or to go. The folk say a heap of things about vou 
mnd me ; but did I ever say a word to you more than civility?** 

" No ! nor would 1 have suffered it." 

"Oh! you are proud; it suits your situation," said Robert, 

** A man and a Christian would think twice ere he reminded me 
oF my situation,^' cried Itachac-l, with flashing eyea, ** and since 
you cftn't feel for it, why speak to me at all ?" 

*' 1 did not mean to afirnttt you," said Robert, with feelin^. 
« I pity you.'' 

*' Keq) your pity for one that asks it,*' was the spirited 




« What! are wc to worship you ?" 

** Misfortune that docs not complun should meet some little 
respect, 1 think." 

" Yes, RacIimI, but it would be mon respected if you had not 
kept it so close." 

" Master Rohert," answered Rochael, in what wc have already 
described as her dogged manner, "jiour folk must work, and 
ought to work; and as they won't let a f-irl in my situation, 
aa you call it, do work or be honest, 1 concealed my fault — if ' 
huh it was of mine." 

** And 1 call it cruel to let a man love you, and hide jottr story 
from him." 

"Nay, but I never encouraged any man to love a»e; so I owe 
my Ktiiry to no man.'' 

"Keep your secrets, then," unid Robert savagely, "nobody 
wants them, without it is Hichard Hickman. 1 hear his cursed 
voice in the air somewhere-" 

"Kichard Hickman!" gasped Rachael. "Oh! why did I 
come to thin place lo he tortured again ?" 

Rirhard llickniau had come here expressly to liave a friendly 
talk with Mr. Patrick. Mr. I'atrick owed thin honour to tJie 
following circumstance : — 

At the waggon returned to the farm, Thomas had stopped at 
a certain way&ide public-house, in which Mr. Ilickman happened 
to be boozing, Patrick was breathing threats against Hickmnii, 
and insistmg un llacijacl'K taking the JuwoT him, and srnding him 
out of the country. Hlichuel, to get rid of the subject^ yielded a 
languid assent; and Hickman, who was intently liittening, trem- 
bled in his shoes. To prevent this calamity, the prudent Richard 
determined to make a pseudo -spontaneous otfcr of some sort to 
the Corporal and hush up the whole aDair. 

At sight of Hickman, the Corporal ua^ for laying on, ai our elder 
dratnatists have it ; but Mr. Casenowvr, wlio wan there, arrested 
liii arm, and propc^icd to him to hear what the man had to say. 

** Well," cried Patrick, "let him speak out then before them, 
all — they have all seen us atfrontcd through his villany. Where is , 
Rachael r' 

So then the Corporal came round to where Rachael stood, pale 
aa deatJi ; and Robert aat pale, too, but clenching his teeth like 
one who would die sooner than utter a cry, thougli many vuUurt-s, 
called pa»tuns, were gnawing the poor lad's heart at this moment } 
and to make matters wor^e, both Mr. and Mrs. Hathum, seeing 
tfata aascmblagc, were drawn by a natural curiosity tu join the 

And hero Mr. Hickman's brass enabled him to cot a more 
brilliant figure than his past conduct justified; be cast a sly 
satirical look at them all, ettpceially at poor Robert, and, setting 
his back tu the ratbngs, he opened the ball thus ;— 

" I come to speak to Mrs. Maylield ; she saya, ' Speak before all 
the rest.' With all my heart I come to say three words to Mr, 
Patrick^ ' Speak be/ore all the rest,' saya he >, well, w\i^ uutX \VS& 



B matter of taste. Mr. Patrick, I have done you n-rong, and I 
own it; but you have Imd vour revenge. You have told the 
story your way, antl the very boys are f<ir throwing stones at me 
here, and you have set Mrs. Maytield against me, tli&t used to 
look at me as a cat does at cream." 

"As a cat does at water, you mean — you impudent ugly dog."*'- 

" Keep your temper, my clarlinjj, you were for having cvcir- 
thins; tiaid in public, you knoir. Well, now let us two make 
matters smooth, eld man. Hovr mucli will you take tu keep your 
tongue hetwcen your tccLli after this ?" 

Patrick's reply came in form of a question addressed to the 
company in general. 

*' Friends, since Corporal Patrick of the 47th Foot was ill 
amongst you, and partly out of hia senses, has he done any dirty 
action, that liiis fellow comes and uffem him money in exchange 
for j(ood nnmc?*' 

" No, Mr. Patrick," said Hobert, breaking silence for the first 
time. '' You are an huncHt man, and a better mnri than erer stood 
in Dick Hickman's shoes." 

Hickiuan bit his lip, and cast a wicked glance at Robert. 

" And your daughter is aa modest a lass as ever broke bread, 
for nil lirr misfortune," cried Mrs. Hathnrn. 

" And none but a scoundrel would hope to cure the mischief 
he baa done with money," cried the May6eld. 

" Spare me, good people/' said Hickman, inmically. 

"Ay, spare him," siiid Patrick, simply. '* I have si^arcd him 
this five years for Uachacl's sake ; but ifty patience is run out," 
roared the old inun, and, lifting bis staH', he made a sudden rush 
at the brazon Hickman. Cascnower and Old Hathom interposed. 

"/jct him alone," said Hickman, ** you may be sure I shan't 
lift my hand aj;ainst fcur-!>core years. 1 'II go sooner," and ho 
began 1.0 saunti-r ofF. 

•'Wimt! you arc a coward as well, arc yout" roared Patrick. 
"Then I pity you. Ht'j;<me, ye lump of <lirt, with your idleness, 
your pride, your meanness, your money, and the shame of having 
offered it to a soldier like me that has seen danger and glory." 

" Well done, Mr. Patrick," cried Hathom, " that is an honour 
to a poor man to be able to talk like that." 

"Yes, Mr. Patrick, that was well said." 

•' It is well said, and well done." 

Every eye was now bent with admiration on Patrick, and from 
him they turned with an universal movement of disdain to Hick- 
man. The man writhed for a moment under this human lightning 
difticult to resist, and then it was he formed a sudden resolu* 
tion that took all present by surprise. Conscience pricked him b 
little, Racbael's coldness piqued Uim, jealousy of Robert stung 
him, general disdain annoyed him, and he lunged tu turn the 
tables on tlicm all. Under this strange medley of feelings and 
inoti\"es, he suddenly wheeled round, and faced them all, with an 
air of defiance that made him look much handsomer than they 
Jtad accn him yet, and he marcbed into t.bc middle of them 




" 1 1! fttiow you fiU I am not so bad as you make mc out — you 
listen, old man — llachael, you say that you luvc mc still, anil that 
'tis for my sake you refuse Bob Hatliorn, as I believe it is, and 
ihe devil take mc if I won't marry you now, for all tliat is come 
and gone." He tlicn walltcd slowly and triumplinntlv past Robert 
Uathorn, on whom he locked down witlt superior scorn, and he 
catne clvsc up to Uacliat-l, who m-hp obscrvwl to tremble as he 
r came near iiiT. " Well, Rarlmtl, my lass, I am Richard Hickman, 
uid I offer vou the ring before these witnesses — say yes, and you 
■re mtslress of Ittx Farm, and Mrs. Hickman. Oh ! ] know the 
rirl 1 make the offer to," added he, maliciously, "if you could not 
nnd out what she is worth, 1 could. Where are you all now } — 
name the day Rachael, here is the man." 

Rjichacl made no answer. 

It was a strange situation, so strange that a dead silence fol- 
lowed Hickman's words. Marriage uttered to a woman before a 
Siau's face who had tried to kill himself for her but yesterday, and 
offered by a man who had neglected ber entirely for five years, and 
lind declined lier under more favourable eircum stances. Then the 
motionless silence of the woman so addressed— lliey all hung upon , 
ier lips, poor Mr. Casenower not e).ce|)ted, who feared that, nov ' 
Rachael «'a5 to be Mrs. Hickman, Robert might turn to Mrs. May- 
field and crush his new raised hopes. 

As for Robert) he did everything he could to make Itachaclsay 
"Yes" to Hieknian. He called up a dogged look of indifference, 
' and held it on his face by main force. It is to be douiited, though, 
whether tliis imposed on It-ichael. She stole a single glance at 
])im under her long lashes, and at last her voice broke softly, but 
firmly, ou them all, and it sounded like a hell, so hushed were they 
all, and so highly strung was their attention and expectation. 

**I thank you, Uicliard Hickman, but 1 decline your offer.'* 

" Are you in earnest, little girl :" 

" Rftchael," said Patrick, " think— are you sure you know your 
own mind?" 

" Grandfather, to marry a man I must swear in the face of 
lieaven to love and honour bim. TIow could I respect Richard 
HickniuM r if lie was the only man left upon the earth, I cuuld not 
marry" hiiji nnd I would not. I would rather die!" 

Robert drew a long breath. 

*' You have got vour answer," said Patrick, *' so now, if I was 
you, I'dbeoff> ' 

" If I don't I 'm a fool, i shall go to my uncle, he lives ninety 
miles from here, and you'll see I shall get a farm there and a wife 
and all, if sd be you don't come there a reaping, Mr. Patrick," 

*^ Heaven pardon you then," said the old man gravely. " You 
are but young : remember it is not too late to repair your ill 
conduct to us by good conduct to others — so now good after- 

" Good afternoon. Daddy Patrick/* said Hickman, with sudden 
humility. " Your servant, all the company," added he, taking off 
his hat. So saying, he went off. lie had wo sooTvtt xv«\\t<S. <ftft 



corner than he repcntetl him of the manner of his goin^; so, 
putting hi3 tiantls in liis pockpts, he whistled the first verse of 
"Tlie Pliiitgh-boy,'* until out of hearing. As thc^c In-it sound* of 
Hickman died away they all looked at one another in silence. Old 
Hathorn was the first to speak. 

"That was uncommon spirity to refuse Hickman,** said he, 
bluntly, *' but you have too much pride, both of you !" 

"No, not I, farmer," said tiie old man, sorrnwfiillv, *' I hare 
been proud, and hi^h-spirited too; but it is limr that passed away 
from me. I am old enough to see from this world into another, 
and from this hour to my Inst {and that won't be long, T hope), I 
am patient; the sky is above the earth; my child has had wrong 
— rrucl, bitter, undeserved wrong; but we will wait for Heaven^* 
justice, since man has none for us, and we will take it when it 
oomen, licrc, or hereafter." 

The fiery old man's drooping words brought the water into all 
their eyes, and Uobcrt, in whose mind so sore a struggle had been 
raging, sprang to his feet. 

" You speak well," he cried, "you are a righteous man, and my 
ill pride falls before your words ; it is my turn to ask your daugh- 
ter of you. Rnchacl, you take me fnr hush.ind and friend for life. 
I loved you well enough to die for you, and now T love you well 
enough to lire fur you ; Hacliacl, be my wife — if you please.'" 

" She won't say * No I * this time," cried Rose .Mayhehl,, archly. 

" Thank you, Robert," said Rachael, mournfully. "I am more 
your friend than to say * Yes I' " 

" Hachael," cried Mrs. Hathorn, " if it is on our account, I 
never saw a lass I would like so well fur duughter-in-law as 

" No, mother," said Robert ; " it is on account of father. 
Father, if you will not be offended, I shall put a question to you 
that 1 never thought to put to my father. Have I been a good 
son or a bad son to you these eight-and-twcnty years ?" 

" Robert !" cried the old man, in a quivcrinu; tt)ne, that showed 
these simple words hud gone through and through his heart. 
Then he turned to Hachael : " My girl, I admire your pride ; but 
have pity on my poor boy and mc." 

" And on yourself," put in Mrs. ^^ayfie1d. 

" May Heaven bless you, Mr. Hathorn!" said Rachael. " If I 
say 'No!* to Robert, I have a reason that need offend no one. 
Folk would never believe I was not in fault ; they woidd cast hit 
wife's story in his teeth, and sting us both to death, for he is 
proud, and I am proud too. And what I have gone through — • 
oh ! it has made me as bitter as gall — as bitter as gall !" 

" Rochael Wriglit," cried the old Corporal, sternly, " listen 
to me !" 

" Rachael Wright," yelled Casenower. " Oh ! gracious heavens 
—Rachael Wright — it is — it must be. I knew it was an oild 
combination — i got it into my head it was * Rebecca Reid'— <is this 
Rachael Wright, sir?" 

''Of coarse it ia," said (he Corporal, pcCTiAly, 




*Then I hare jjfot something for her from my lato partner*. 
I '11 find it — it is ut the bottom of my seeds," and away scatn- 
pered Caitcnowcr. 

He prciicntly returned^ and interrupted a rehultc Mr. Patrick 
wBs ndministerint; U* Rachacl, by giving her a long envelope. 
She 0|M?ned it witn some surprise, and ran her eye over it, for she 
was what thev call in the county a capital scholar. Now as she 
read, her face changed and changed like an April nky, nnd each 
change was a pictnre and a story. They looked at her in wonder 
as well as curiosity. At la-^t a lovely red mantled in her pate 
cheeky and a smile like a rainbow, a smile those present had never 
Hen on her face, came back to her from the past. The paper 
dropped from her hands as she stretched them out, like some 
benign goddess or nymph, all love, delicacy^ and grace. 

" Robert," she cried, nnd she need have said no more, for the 
little word ' Robert/ as she said it, was a volume of love, " Robert, 
I love, I always loved yon. I am happy — happy — happy I '^ and 
abe threw her arm round Robert's neck, and cried and Kobbed, 
'•ndy crying and sobbing, told him again and again how hap])y 
she was. 

^ Hallo ! " cried Hnthom, cheerfully, " wind has shifted in your 
bvour, appcarcnlly. Boh." 

Mrs. Mayficld picked up the paper. "This has done it," cried 
she, and she read it out pro bono. The paper contained the copy 
of a will made by Rachael's aunt, a year liefore she died. The 
Sour old liidv, being wrath with Rachact on account of her mis- 
eondact in getting victimized, but not quite so wrath as with her 
eraceless nephew, had taken a medium course. Slie had not 
destroyed this wilt, as she did the other, by which graceless 
cephcw was to benefit, but she hid it in the wall, safe as ever 
magpie hid thimble, and dying somewhat suddenly, she died intes- 
tate to all appCHfaiice. This old lady was iuinieusurabty fund of 
the old nmishackly house she lived in. So after a while, lo show 
his contempt of her, graceless nephew had the house pulled down ; 
the wurknicn picked out of the wall the wUl in question. An old 
ser\'ant of the lady, whom gracelesK nephew had turned off, lived 
bard by, and was sorrowfully watching the demolition of the 
house, when lite will was picked out. Old servant read the will 
and found herself down for lOO/. Old servant took the will to a 
firm of solicitors, no other than Cascnower** late partners. They 
sent down to Rachacl's village; she and Patrick were gone; a 
neighbour said they were reaping somewhere in Oxfordshire. ITie 
finn sent a copy of the will to Casenower as a forlorn hope, and 
employed a person to limk out for Rachael's return to her own 
place, as the best chance of dning business with her. By the 
will 3000/. and Bix Farm were bequcatlied to Rncliacl. 

" Bix Farm! 'Hiree hundred acres!" cried Hnthorn. 

*' Bix Farm — the farm Hickman is on," cried Rose Mayfield. 
" Kick him out, he has no lease. If you don't turn him out neck 
and crop before noon to-morrow, I'm a dead woman." 

" The farjn is Robert's," said Rachael; *'aftd s«"w -eXW^wtVi 


give him, if he will accept it." And though she looked at Mrs. 
Mayfield, she still clung to Robert. 

Robert kissed her, and looked so proudly at them all! " Have 
I chosen ill ? " sud Robert's eyes. 


When everybody sees how a story will end, the story is ended. 

Robert and Rachael live on their own farm. Biz; Corporal 
Patrick sits by their fire-side. 

People laugh at Mr. Casenower's eccentricities ; but it is found 
unsafe to laugh at them in presence of Mrs. Casenower, late 

I think I cannot conclude better than by quoting a few words 
that passed between Mrs. Hathorn and Corporal Patrick, as they 
all sat round one table that happy evening. 

** Rose," said this homely good creature, *' I do notice that 
trouble comes to all of us at one time or other; and I think they 
are the happiest that have their trouble (like these two children) 
in the morning of their days." 

" Ay, dame," said the Corporal, taking up the word, "and after 
that a bright afternoon, and a quiet evening — as mine will be now, 
please God I" 

Friendly reader (for I have friendly as well as unfriendly 
readers), 1 do not wish you a day without a cloud, for you are 
human, and I, though a writer, am not all humbug. But, in 
ending this tale, permit me to wish you a bright afternoon, and a 
tranquil evening, and, above all, a clear sky when the sun goes 


Bt aU the flowers that scent tlie gale, 

By all the stan that shine, 
By every dewdrop on the dale, 

I lore thee. Maty, mine I 

By daisy-dotted knolls of turf. 

By cedar, and by pine. 
By forest-moss and ocean-surf, 

I love thee, Mary, mine ! 

By sacred hill, by sainted rill, 

By holy font and shrine, 
By seraph -haunted woodland still, 

I love thee, Mary, mine ! 

By thoughts all beautiful and bright. 

By feelings all divine, 
By life and death, by day and night, 

I love thee, Mary, mine I 

W. Y. Browns. 




Thk " ArKj'lc," nn inferior inn to whirl) we were drircn by the 
crowded state of the liotels, had, nuvurlhelcss, much to recom- 
mend it, <spcctii1Iy a «cry tictive, intelligent and intrlligihle 
landlord, one frho eubniittcd to the scvei-c^t croM- examination 
respecting the nay up Ben Nevis without a spark vt pi-tulance, 
oru symptom of fatigue. At first it was, of course, quite impos- 
riblc l«j fHccl tliL* ascent « itliuut a jjuit^c ; we sliotild never reach 
llie top, or Vie should sever reach the boitom ; \\c should be lost 
in ihc fog, or tumble over a precipice ; it was not to be done, &c. 
But, by degrees, tlie impossibility melted awny; if the weather 
held fair, we might succeed. Accordiiigly, iu the morning, furnished 
with u soda-water bottle half filled with Long John'R ** parti - 
culiir,'' a few sandwiches, and a profusion of riircclions, wc Ret 
otr to niaky the essay alone. And this, good reader, if, that is, 
you arc a good tourit^t as well as a good reader, I most emphiUi- 
cally advise you to do always — never take n guide ! For my 
Dnn part, 1 would father pay a man, as the hubit of eome is, to 
shoot iny game, hunt my dogf, ride my hotsv. 1 would rather, in 
short, perform oil that vicariously which gives interest to sport, 
energy to character, than go iu leading-i'tritigs through the wilds 
of uuiurc, and lose that lionest ei^eilemeni and prond fueling of 
Bclf-rcUonce, which it is the legitimate province of adventure to 
arouse. By an adherence to this rule, you will occasi'mully lose 
some time, and encounter some unneresT^ary labour ; but if time 
and labour are not to bo spared, why your honour had belter slick 
lo Uie rail, or stay at home. 

After .Mr. Albert Sinilh's Mont Blanc, Mr. Fixby's Ben NctIs 
mav read [K-rhaps a linle tamely ; hul, neverihcless, for the be- 
nefit, if not of posterity, at least of those who mav come afier us, 
I Khali cenUirc to describe briefly' the climbing of that day. We 
quitted the town by its northern extremity, and passing the 
fort itself, which has very much the air of a workhouse, we 
proceeded for about a mile along the high road, till wc reached 
the bridge that spans the \evis. Having crossed the stream, wc 
tunicd immediately ihrongh .i gateway on our right, and followed 
a good path which, skirting a small copse by the river side, 
terminates at a clump of very wretched cottages. They stand 
upon the boi-der of one of those extensive peat-fields that almost 
invariably are fouud spread, fur and wide, around the buses of the 
roountuins, and allbrd a shelter, such as it is, In a ]inp)iy furaily 
of pigs, poultry and squalid children. Right boforc us rose a 
nngu of hilis, which form, as it were, the outer bulwarks of the 




iDoiiittaiu keep. The intcrvcniug bog was rood crossed, and our 
bcaringtt haviog been taken uitb sufliciunl care, we commenced 
our ascent on wliat nailors, I bulievc, tenii ibe loj'board Uck. A 
convenient hollow was visible to the left, and after a loDg and 
severe burst, wo passed Uirough it and fonod ourselves on what 
may be called ilic first-floor of Ben Nevis. It was a. sort of plat- 
form on which lay, toseed in the wildest disorder, enonnous 
rocks detached from the heights above ; some of these stood 
boldly up like the hulls of stranded vessels ; otliers were more ihau 
half sunk in dark jkkiIk, the colour wliich, not to 6\icak il die- 
respecl fully, reminded me a good deal of Guiwss's Dublin Stout. 
We now began to cast abuuL fur the great land-uiurk — the key and 
clue to the [xisitioii — a certain lake. Kight before us it Uy, and 
soon became visible on our ascending the rising ground in front. 
Crosnog Uiu shalluw streaut that issues from its luoutb, we ]ncked 
our my along the left-hand margin of the lake, while above ua 
rae an' enormous wall, from the further extremity of which the 
loftioet ])i:ak shoots up. 

Half the length of the lake was accomplisbod, before wc at* 
tempted the second portion of the ascent. Two ravines in the 
rocky barrier which closed us in had attracted uur attention, doira 
each of which a " wee buniie," springing from its patch of snow, 
ran ils rapid course. They were half a mile (possibly more) apart, 
and serving as well-defined boundaries, we deteiinined to start 
from the bottom of tlie one, and '* shoulder" away to tlie head of 
the other. We ought, as we subsequently discorefed, to lutve 
proceeded at uuce to the further and larger one \ and on crussiog 
It, we should have found indications of a /.igzag track nmuing 
by its side light up to the suuimit of the great dome — stor}' the 
second — a pu^itiou which we attained after severe exertion, by a 
more direct, indeed, but far more hazardous course. I'bu chief 
risk was to be apprehended from the lar^c loose stones, up and 
among which we had to scramble, and which, cuinslaotly di»- 
lodgcd by our progress, thundered down the steep descent wit}i 
the force of a catapulL Upon one of these crags I incautiously 
threw my entire weight : it tottered, aud tlie pull of aitother 
pound would prob;d;ly have brought it down : a shattt^rod limb 
must inevitably have 4>cen the consiiqueiice. In other respects, 
the ascent thus far, though fatiguing, can scarcely be said to be 
either dangerous or dilltculi. Here, however, perplexities ate 
apt to accumulate ; if, indeed, the weather be fine, you see before 
yon the second dome, upou which the caim, or '^ old nuut," as 
the "lakisls'* term it, is raised to mark Lite highest tipot. In the 
event, which is far more likely to occur, of your being enveloped 
in dense fog, thi« is by no means easy to arrive at. The way, 
however, is indicated by certain small heaps of stones placed 
about one hundred and fidy yards apart and of the shape of 
which it is most important to take especial note, inasmuch aa yott 
have nothing else, except yuw compass which ought to be care- 
fully consulted, to detcrmiue the dirveliuu of your return ; and 
this, be it observed, is the main thing to provide ittt. Guided by 




[4]ip«p landmarks, rou adrancc far a connderablc disCanca along 
[.tlic nearlv Icrel uliiiiylc, liicu turning to the right, jou have to 
feoU again in order to pi» tke hotiaw between ibis cmiiuniDe 
Ium) the topmost peali. 

Of tlie view from tlic sammit I shall iiot |}retend to ear axxy- 
tfung, for, to confess the truth, long before wo approached it, 
thick niisLs fam) gatlicred ronnd and shot out the expanse of mag- 
, jiificeitt sceuory, hrif^ht Kn.'itchoK of which had been caught 
lidluriDg tilt; asL'uiit to the lower douii-. Au<l pray, usks Mrs. l-'ixhyf 
It can posubly bo the use of mkiiig your neck and tiring 
^foanelt to death, to arrive at a spot where you can ace no more 
tlian from Holboni Hill in the middle of Noreoiber ? Nay, good 
Mrs. F., but there is alvay« a chance, always a hope of a clearini; 
off. These rapourti do at times rise and roll nway n-ilh surprising 
iddenness, and the traveller finds himself in the centre of a 
^raiua that smites him dumb with ndiiiiration. Indeed, 1 hold 
St to be an undoubted fact ihnt the man who has nrxer in his life- 
liuie stood on some lofty mountain's top, and fdt the emotions that 
ire engcuderL-d there, Iins n>iL fulfilled niB " mitssion." He has not 
samt to knoir himself. There are dt^ths within him which have 
lercr been stirred ; there h a capacity of enjoyment to which he 
aeirougLTj Lbera is a cliord of Lis soul Hbich Ua& buen ever 
^nute ; there is o certain sense which he lins suflbred to lie dor- 
mant and undeveloped, lie is as a man who has never revelled 
in the odour of spring florent ; a man who has never thrilled at 
the concord of sweet aouoda ; a man who has never tasutd 
turtle ! 

But to descend — and lie it known tlmt the descent of Ben Keris 
is of a character prcciselv the reverse of that of Avemus — it is 
in the course of the descent that disasters arc corauiouly ciicouu- 
l^aud it is noTCTT uufrequent occurrence for an inexperienced 
^mmg gentleman to find himself, at the close of the day, in somo 
gloomy glen a dozen miles or so diNtant from his hot*.-!. Fatal 
■ccidonts occasionally occur; wo heard of two of comparatively 
■decent date. In one instance, a yotmg man, a teetotaller, anxious 
lo ehoir what vigour wait to be derived from the " cii]) which 
cllBcrs, but uot inebriates," made a race with his eompanions ; 
Ins foot alippod, and though the place where he fell was none of 
the steepest, li« was dead when discovered by his Aicnd«. In 
the other case, it was the strength, doI of the wBlcr, but, it u to bo 
of the whiskey, that caused the niiHchief; the unfortunate 
srer, uho vea» pcrfcrtir fnmiliiir nriih tlie track, and waa even 
F-ftt the time acting as gnide to a party, IfU over ouc of tlw higbwt 
precipices and was dashed to atoms in an instant. Orcot caa- 
tion. mdf^etl, is necessary, and a very attentive observance of tho 
laudinarks, in order to retrace your s^ie|>8 to llie head of the 
lavina^ down which an easy path conducts you to the lake. 
Anived horo, ererrihing ou^ht to have been raiir enough ; but 
froB ma otniRsioD to note the precipe gAp tliroiigh which we had 
jnted to the grand plateau, the last stage proved, alter all.thtf 
It hazardous. We fell iaio the ctmunou vmt of dos[n«iig 

T 2 



tfae enemy, and, selecting a stream as a guitle, commenced malcing 
our way Winicwhat licedlessly to ihe plain. By degrees llie 
hcatlicr, which afforded tolerably t'ood footing, grettBcam, and the 
slippery grey rock protrndt-d from the soil ; the utrcam hccame a 
cataracc, roaring and leaping more madly at cTcry turn ; still on 
\Tc went, clinging lo the stimted herbage, and dropping ffom 
rock to rock, till we found ourselves on the edge of a precipice KOme 
forty or fifty feet deep, dun-u which the bum datdiud at a bound. 
To coTitiniiG our coiii'se wait quite impnsfuble ; any nuivt'inenl to 
the left waR cqiiallv so ; iclreat was hardly to be thonghl of; one 
chance rcuiaiued — lo leap the iraterfall, and endeavour to scram- 
ble down the declivity on our right, the nature of which was com- 
plcicly hidden by a prominence it was first requisite to lum. 
Here fortuue stood our friend ; the stream wan safety crossed, and 
in a few minutes we regained the heather^ from which point our 
progress to tlie dismal fiwanip below was smooth and rapid — 
the oidy fear being, lest a tnp over a concealed stone should 
make it rather too much so. Drenched, but by no means fatigued* 
we made onr inn about six o'clock. 

The capital dinner provided by our hos.t of the " Argyle," wa» 
hardly dis|»itclie(], when our apartment was invaded by a *' hand 
of fierce barbarians from the hill.-*," the overflowing of the market 
room, and snch a jabhcrinf; ensued that I liave ran-lv heard 
equalled. Such a smokin:;; of pipes too, w as there — such a eallintj 
for whiskey and drinking of hcaltlis — each man grasping his friend 
by the left hand a» he qualFeJ — significant bint of the social 
qualities of their forefathers— that how I found my way to my 
bed 1 hardly remember. (Jrateful then, indeed, pmred the cool 
breeze upon tlie water as we ferried aertiss the lock after a night 
spent among the fumes of tobacco ami the odours of Long John. 
The weather continuing unfavonraltlu, wc enntentcd niinwlves 
with an easy walk along the somhern bank of Lochicl to tlie inn 
at Gleu6nnau ; a far better plan would tiave been to havu pushed 
on over night to a small inn— name forgotten or unknonn, by the 
side of the Giant's Staircase, and to have started in the morning, 
well victualled, for a walking excursion round Lock Atke;?, over- 
looking whicli onco stii^id the castle of ihn gentle Lochiel : and 
then, bya lum to the Icftacross the mountains, to hare come down 
upon the muslering place of the clans. 

A column, chieljy remarkable; for the adroit wording of its in- 
scription, marks the spot where I'rince Charles unfailed the 
standard of rebellion— as the event proved it lo be I It is a 
beautiful and striking scene, and the young Pretentier hhuwed 
his taste, whalevitr may be said of his judgment, bv the selec- 
tion. The day's work being over early, i thonghl it a good 
opportunity to pui into practice a little scheme which had been 
bugged in secret from the cammeiicemenl of the tour, As au 
aiiglcr, one of some repute by the river Lea and the Paddingion 
Caual, I felt it a duly not to quit Scotland without an essay at 
tioutiog. 1 owed it to myself, to my fellow-membci-s of llio 
OoJdcii Cudgeoa club, not to do so. Much dismayed looked my 


ADSterc fricn*!, wlio was Iwnt upon scaling some of llic siirround- 
iug btiighl.s, at Uie propD^al ; but quiukly recovering Iiiniseir, he 
j^ieliled tho point with a cheerful iiesis that occasioned me remoise 
at having urged it. Foruiualely my success was not such as to 
lead to any after trials of his self-denial. I killed a trout — one — 
and was Katisfied; its precise weight 1 do not feel called upon to 
divulge, bill ii was not exiraordinary. 

It was towards the close of a tine breezy day that we reached 
the ])uint of Ara^aig, a rocky promontory that walls in as inhos- 
pitable a looking bay as ever tourist gazed upon. Jl ia indeed a 
ragged and*a desolate phce, uninbubited, uninhabiinble ; wliere- 
ever the eye turns, fii'nward or landward, the cold grey rock 
proinides, nnt in lofty groups but in broken and detached masses, 
from tlie restless wavi: and the black peat ; it looks as though some 
lltan of old days had been ernpluying biinseir, out of ti[>ort or 
spite, in demolishing a mountain or two, ond ncalteriiij; the hngc 
mignicnts inlo tbe bar beneath. Slieltcred by a mass of atone 
froui the- cutting nind, uc awaited patiently ttio arrival of llie 
Skyc steamboat, wliich, advertised at two, was expccti'd nt four, 
and came in &iglit al Bb«}ut six o'clock. Our lediuin, indeed, was 
greatly relieved by a coiiversatiou with a couple of lligliland 
Canners, who, like ourselves, were on the watch for the approach 
of tho boat, a most imporiant evert, inasmuch as, with the excep- 
tion of the bill-fed mutloa, every necessary of life, even bread 
baked in the ovens of Glasgow, is brought by this conveyance to 
these remote shores. 

* 1 was not n Utile .<triick by the utter want of feeling e:(hibited 
by onr agTicultnral friends, men evidently of a superior class, lor 
ine sufferings of the wrctcht-d pca5jintry. We Kpokc of the great 
changes recently introduced iuto the Highlands, of tlie couver- 
atons of small holdings and arable farms inlo enormous sheep 

Iks, and of tbe consequent evictions of the poorer lenantry. 
L atD told," said 1, "that tliese eiiiiyration eelieme-'i were 
received aith great unwillingness by tlio cotters, uud that not 
unfrequenlly violence was needed to dispossess tliem." 

"Aye, aye,'' was the reply, " whey, the verra last clearing we 
made on my farm, the old uinu would na Fiir fruin the ehimuey 
comer, till wc fired the roof above his head." 

" I3til surely," I urged, " this wholesale exportation could 
hardly have been necessary, — might not these poor people havo 
been taught to support themselves without proving an oncnm- 
brance to the landlord ?" 

" Sup|iort themMdvos ! they could do that well eno' and pay n 
rent to boot; it wos no that— &u/ parties had other rietot." 

And such is the way in which the almost fabulous attachment of 
the Hi;.^hlaiiders to ilifir lords liaa bctin apprecial(?d and rewarded! 
A century or two ago, when the *' bonut-U'd chieftains" held their 
>wn and other peo[p|e"» pioperly by swonl and spear, a ftAlotciny was 

GOmc value ;aDd they reared clansmen a& they now rear sheep ; 
but the times are changed; — tho baton of Inspector BnckoU U 
surer fence againiit fraud tnd foray, than the tar^e «n& <:\%'^-aici«%^ 


MB. Fi:cBYs Tisrr to skye. 

tlismisstKl like the 
piece. *' iJwyll 

s's wairinrs Irae," and ihc Uttrr accortlhigljr 
;(1, Imndlcd off like worthless worn-out stock, 
siipeniumeraries at the close of an lia.^ter 
iu Uiu lund and tlion cbalt be fed," miys ibe 
P»aln)ist. ** Not a hit of it," says my Lord GUnioddy, " you don't 
dwell here — you dou't pay ! tb:it U, you don't pay k> well as 
mutton ;" and a thousand homes are rendered desolate, and a 
thousand families driren off, with the same calculating coolness 
that Squire Ilohnail ploughs up an old common, or {^uh» aa 
unsightly hedge. "Oh ! but it is a. vast improremenl to the pro- 
p«r^; besides they get on so much letter in Canada,** says tbo 
Macgmffin- I hope they do \ meanwhile thews and sinews are 
beginning to look up; airtl it is not impossible Uiat'theso " parties'^ 
may find cause to regret that ihcy did not direct their efforts to the 
civilizing and instructing their tenantry, tu tbc lodging them like 
human beings, and to ihi: developing energy and iuiUistry among 
them, rather than to the furtherance of " other views," which may 
leave them lords, in name, of uncultivated, unprofitable wastes, 
whore the flocks have perished for the want of tending, and the 
game, more grievous still, has become the prwy of the tmcertifi- 
catcd marauder. 

The aniral of tbe boat put an end to the discussion. We had 
a wretched passago lo Broadford. It blew fresh, and the deck of 
the vessel was crowded with articles of uphoUiery, to a degree 
that induced a suspicion chat some eccentric indiridual had taken 
a lease of Skyc, and was abont to furnish the island entirely afresh. 
The cabin was equally crowded, and the night passed wearisomely- 
About seven, next morning, wc reached the litOe jetty, ^vhtchy 
together with three or four cottages and one inn — a very good 
inn, too — constitutes the aforesaid |>ort of llroadford. A profuse 
breakfast sent us on our way rejoicing. 

The road to Lnch Sligaclian, whiihcr we were botmd, prefienta 
many rery beautiful views. Skirting the indented coast, it dis- 
closes unuumbercd island;^, varying in size from the bore rock 
which, Rc.irccly supplies pasturage for a dozen sheep, to the 
broad dise large enough (or a German Princi]>ulity — at one ti mo 
the eye rests upon a cluster of cottages, picturoquu enough in the 
distance, but which appear, on a nearer approach, miserable habi- 
tations indeed, somo without windows, some without chimneys, 
some without either; at another, with a very different feeling, it 
scans the gallant little fleet of herring vessels, shrouded with tlietr 
drjing n('t<i, and riding at anchor in the Sound. X Gshemian, 
who joined us on the road, gave but a melancholy account of the 
inhabitants of the Hebrides ; he slated them to be, and our obser- 
ration in a meajmre confirmed what seemed an impossibility, 
worse lodged, worse fed, and worse cared fur than the poorest 
dwellers on the mainland. Tho only natives, in fact, who shoved 
themselves iu good cxsc, were the oysters which our friend pointed 
out, k-l't by thu rcccdiilg lidu on the great bay of Ainort, acn>as 
which we were making a short cut. Producing some oatmeal 
cakes, we enjoyed, accordingly, a luncheon of rather a reekavh£ 







eter, vftniing in nothing bn( a hotUe of Stont, to hav» 
On regaining tlic road at the ftirther cxtremi^ of tbc bav, onr 
caroponion hinted tliat ibere irsft a shepbenTs path to Sligachan, 
irter hy tbreu mili'ji than the route wo wvre pnrsutng, and jiointcd 
[oat its commcaccmcnt on tbu hill aide. This was the rcry thing for 
rhkh we craved ; somewhnt weanr of the Quw^n's bigbwav, \re had 
long looking wistfully at llie ^ei:l;ht^ tliat tuwen'd above tis on 
! iehf so, Itidding our obliyioj,' inforiuani fan-wfll with iin oageT- 
not C[nilc in accordance with the bc^t brocding', wcr shoolc the 
'^nst, mud 1 shoald »ay, from our feet, and took to tbo heatb«r. 
For some time our path ran parallel, though with a rapid ascent, 
to that we bad quitted, then winding np a glen, the head of which 
formed the inmniit of the pasit, it crossed l» the »idc of a vast 
i«oiiicaI mountain, wliich.froni its superior altitude, seemed lo rise 
[•lone from the plain. Hitherto the wallcin;; had been moderntely 
ST, but we quickly perceif ed, as oar track unfolded itself, wind- 
^ing like a thread round the steep slope before lut, that nerve and 
actirity would be Deeded to follow it. To compare great things 
with iimall, let the reader imagine him«clf descending llie dome of 
Saint Paal'ft by a shelf about six or cigbt inches iridc, twisted 
Tomid the esterior after the manner of patent corkscrews, and he- 
will form a tolerably correct notion of the task that awaited ua. 
The danger, Iiowcvcr, whatever it might be. was not of a character 
to be enhanced by its cflfect on the imagination ; the grassy surface 
of the precipice serred in a great uieuftur« to diveitt it of its terrors, 
id precluded that extremely impleasaiit sensation which a glance 
town a deep abyss so commonlv intlnccs. Nevertheless great 
i^'Caution, to say nothing of perfect self-poasession, was needed to 
leep oar footing along that narrow ledge, broken, too, as it eon- 
naotly was, by watercourses, across which it was necesssTy to leap 
•rscnwbl«; a_«LogIe slip — and, soft and verdant as the mossy slops 

" No! all tile king's Iwries awl nit itie king's iDcn 
Could have put Mr. Fixby together agsial" 

Tbe great admntago of a^qorooching Loch Stigachan by this 

||MttbwaT, independently of the excitement of the thing and the 

saving of distance, is the fine ricw thus attained of the chief gronp- 

of llic Cuchullins. It rises immediatdy opposite, bold and isolated, 

itfae complete outline standing out sharp 8f;.iinfit (iie nky. with. 

'•reiy gloomy hollow and eyerv pointed aiffuilieite distinctly visible 

u a glance. 

Inn Sligachan is an important establishment, affartHn^ acconr 
roodatioD for an unlimited number of gtiests, and at pri<^es whirl^i 
though my friend swd, in his mirth, they were Shj-e high, he moc«i] 
soberly admiUcd to be perfectly reasonable, the circnmslancoBi 
considered, i'ron tbe landlord, a fine hearty Tonng fellow, we 
obtained at OBce tlw necessary directions for reaching the great 
gem of the Ilebridcs.the celebrated I .ake Coruiak. His recommen- 
dation to take a guide being withdrawn almost as soon as altered, 



a >'ct further concession was demanded. We were particalatly 
dc^rous of ascurtniiiing the existence of a pass, mysterious ru- 
mours of which had reached us, hy which the promontory nt the 
mouth of the l.och might he romided, and a return eflected, vid 
Torrin, lo Broadfbrd. 'Hie distance appeared but inrniihiderahle 
on ihe map, and a daywoiiUi be saved. Our good-humoured Jiost 
looked very grave at the proposition. It vas niaduess to attetnpt 
any stieh passage ; the cliffs were absolulely precipitous, and ino 
waves dashed against iheir base — there was no track — no pos&ibic 
means existed of making otirwayby the sea coast; be begged us to 
abandon all idea ofstichathing, but admitted, at the same time, that, 
could the promontory in qurstion be once turned, the remainder 
of the jouniey, though a portion of it would lie across the pathless 
mountain, might be achieved. Tliis admission ruined bim! the 
importance, the absolute necessity to the shepherds of some way of 
suriUQimltng this barrier was so obvious, that 1 felt persuaded 
of its existiMice. There nmst be a path cither over the barrior or 
round it. Well, then, there was a sort of path winding round the 
coast, but it contained "a dangerous step.' And of wliat descrip- 
tion uiiglii this be r Our host bad travelled it but once, and could 
only say that it was a narrow ledge of rock overhanging the sea — 
the thing was to be done — he looked at onr boots and Uiought that 
possibly we might do it, but it required a good bead, and was 
far beiler avoided. 

The rain came heavily dou*n next moming, and the mist hung 
thick upon tlie mountains, and we were in consequence deterred 
from making the early start we had contemplated, and which was 
almost e)«ential to the success of the enterprise we had in vietv, 
Our good friend recommended us to wait lor a " whole day," an 
expression meaning, as we ascertained, a day entirely free from 
rain, about four of which phenomena per annum fall lo the lot 
of the Skyelandcrs. Declining this indefinite postponement, we 
started about eleven, and struck at unce upon a rttdc pathway run- 
ing up Glen Sligachan. A certain conical hill, some 6rc or six 
miles otf, but apparetiily within batf ihnt distance, was pointed out 
to us as a landmark. The road was rough beyond any we bad yet 
encountered; the bums, too, wgre full and came roaring down 
across it, completely cuv[;ring the stepping stones, ^nd necessitat- 
ing every now and then a dash "in and out clever;" iu two in- 
slances these torrents were so wide and deep that the passage was 
not effected wiihout danger. Two hours, cr something more, bail 
elapsed cro we reached the point where we were to quit the beaten 
pathway and cross the glen ; it was immediately alter fording the 
second brook of the larger kind. \\c then bore away to the right, 
twiM fording the river that had been meandering by our side, and 
made for the base of our conical guide. The most convenient 
spot for crossing the ridge is marked by a couple of stone heaps, 
standing like door-posis on the summit ; a considerable advantage 
lo the returning traveller, inasmuch as the point of passage is far lest 
easy of recognition from the further side. Leaving the eminence 
1 have so often nicuiiunod on our left, we ought to bare descended 

MR. pixby's vrsrr to skye. M0 

[flC once in an ohlique (lircction (o n small lam, anil, following the 
[tlrcam n-hkh issncs from its month, wc. sliouid havo rtachcd, by a 
ftery direct ronte, the wondronB Jake of which we were in Hcnrch. 
Perplexed, however, by the luyslcrtotu diKap{»carance of amounted 
parly of which we had hiihcrto kept ahead, instead of descending, 
.ire kept lo the le(Y along ibti line of heights nbich separates the 
ro valleys. 

Meanwhile the clouds were gathering fast ; the rising uind gave 
note of warning; huge masses of luisl came rolling on, and a few 
large drops were dashed in our faces. It was perfectly clear that 
we were to he treated to a mountain storm. Nor was it long a- 
brcwing ; in a few minutes cky above, and loch below were shut 
,Out compk'lely from nght. 'I*here n'as a moaning among the hill 
ips, which deepened rapidly into a deafening roar; the rain was 
hurled in torrents against the old weather-beaten rocks ; sudden 
guftts swept through the gullies, and almost bore us from our legs. 
For some lime wc stniggled on, endeavouring with desperate excr- 
etions u> regain the track we had evidently lost; but the increasing 
Icosity of the vapours, the blinding shower, and the nature of the 
ground becoming more perilous at every step, brought us at 
length LO a stop. Our situation was not the most enviable one. 
There we were in the heart of the CuchuUin.s, cowering under a cray 
with precipices on every side, the tempest raging at its worst, and a 
thick durkncsfl over all. The most trying ciFcumstancc was the 
ioabilily to stir, to roako an eifort to extricate ourselves; to have 
done so, indeed, would have been, as we subsequently perceived, 
.llmost certain destniction. Happily the storm passed off with even 
'greater rapidity than it had come up. Patchea of sky soun became 
visible through the mi^, while far down below iis au ocrafuonal 
gleam and glitter indicated that wc were standing immediately 
[above Uie Loch Coruisk itself. 

There is a sloping slab of reddish stone, lying by the water's 
edge, from which the best view, if that from the heights above be 
-excepted, of this spot, so wonderful and wild, is to be obtained. 
Hefure we reached it, the atmosphere, by a most timely tnni of 
fortune, had become entirely clear, and eveiy ouilino of the vast 
amphitheatre stood sharply out, with mar%'ellous disttnctneM. A. 
rocky screen hid from us the adjoining ocean ; on either side, loftj^ 
peaks iiiTci-cd up direct from the depths of the lake ; at a distance 
the dark Cuchntlin group, like castings in rich bronze, fdled up the 
jbackgriiUTnl : tin- whole scenery, indeed, from its peculiar colour- 
ing, and especially from the almost entire absence of vpgetalion, 
had a singularly metaUic appearance ; the very loch lay heavy and 
motionless in its bed, like a vast resen'oir of molten silver. 

Wc had but little time to linger by tluit gloomy shore, and but 
little time was needed. Loch Coniisk is one of those spots which 
make an instaiitiinnius and complete imprcKsion on the memory; 
tho picture is compact and perfect ; once seen, it is seen for ever ! 
We were soon a-fuot again, and proceeding to cast about for somft] 
trace of the in>-sterious path by which we wore to efTect a retreat[ 
from tbia picinresque, but rather tnconvcmcQlXy-nVatfA&NncQCcwotvj 

At some distance, in the direction of the tnouth of Uie Iocfa» an 
opening in the cliff was risible, which seemed to cundurt to the sea 
side, and through which we rightlv conchidrd our road miut lie. 
For some little time we stumbled and scrambled ouwards, follow- 
ing a scnrcelj-percepiihlfl iracic among the cra|;<i, and indulging 
in various coDJecturcs respecting the nature of the mnch-taJked 
of " dangerous step." Heieabouls, although I did not think it 
necesBary to prueliiim the fact, I began to led a Utile ocrvoaa; 
tfaooghls of Mrs. Fixby intruded, of her distress on learning ttwt 
her hu8b;»nd had become the prey of Scotch lobsters; o( the rety 
unbecoming costume it would be necessary for her to don in con- 
sequence, ftleanwhile the path became considerably more hazard- 
ous, but the difficulties were surmounted as they presented llieto- 
selTCS,andwe half hoped that the worst of the "dangerous step" had 
been seen, when a sudden turn brongbt us in front of a steep rock 
rising almost perpcudicuUrly from tiie sea, and apparently barring 
all further progress. Hy degrees, the precise nature of the risk we 
had to cncoimter became manifest ; that rock, bare and well uigb 
as steep as mi artificial column, was to be crossed. At Srsl sight, 
indeed, the feat struck us as being simply impossible. There 
seemed nothing but a convex surface, pcrlectly smooth, and, as I 
have said.K]mc>stperpendicnlar,oii which to )jlaut the foot; ou closer 
examination, however, there appeared a smoJl, riband-like ledge 
or cleft, about six inches wide, which, taking an upward directioD, 
disappeared, round a prujectiug augle of the cHff. Upon this it 
seemed, so far as we could see, just possible to stand ; stilL, it was 
difficult to imagine that human beings could be in the habit ot 
adopting a jklss, scarcely secure for a goat or a chamois. That 
such, however, was the case, became clear from the traces of 
nailed shoes just distinguishable on the surface of the sumc In 
short, the crisisofthe day's adventure was at hand — "the dangerotu 
step " was before us ! 'I'he priiicipul diOiculty was foiud in efiectiDg 
a lodgment ou tlie ledge I nure described ; ouce tbere, it wa8 not 
really a bard thing for a person of moderate activity to adrance 
slowly ujiwards, and, cautiously rouuding the extremity of the bar- 
rier, to effect a descent npon the broken crags on the other side. 
Pierre undoubtedly is requisite to make tlie passage in ssfe^, and 
above all, a good heail, (l ought rather, perhaps, to say a good 
stomach,) for once upon that narrow slip, to recede is quite out of 
the question, to pause is hardly less perilous ; and with your 
shoulder rubbiug the rock and yoor body overhanging the preci- 
pice, the foot of which the wares are surging, a momenrs 
dizziness were fatal. 

I'tout this puint the heat and burden of the day may be sud to 
have commenced. A long and fatagning walk along the shore of 
the bay brought us opi>osite the solitary farm-house of Cama- _ 
Bunory, the excellent uccuper of which is not, it is hinted, parti- ■ 
culorty desirous of the visits of intelligent tourists, nor gircn to an 
cxcessire display of that virtue, so earnestly recommended to, 
and so eminentlv conspicuous, in my lords the bishops. CroM- 
ing a rirer which, as the uUe vas rolling in, was no easj n " ~ 






MS. nxDT*s Tisrr to skve. 


we pM»(l ihe mouth of Glen SHpachan, and leaving the cohl- 
lookitij; little hoin<;»t*;a<) on out light, set our&elres with right 
good will tu Itreutl ihu rii>in(; hills in front. Round the shoulder 
of nightj Ben lilarcmrc toiled laborion»ly,benringawuyias much 
as tnigbt be, to the leii, till to ifae opening valley, and beautifnlly 
simated in a spot nverlaoking the broad waters of Ijocli Slapin, 
w» descried a mansion of considorable pretcnsionn. ThiH, as 
we aniicipiited, turned out to be ibe lesidcnce of a certain Doc- 
tor >['Allisier, whoso hospimlity anil kindm^ss lia%'u wnn for htm 
ft name that might hare graced the Golden Age. His fame is 
onivenal — iu Skje. It 'm proclaimed, semper, uii^ue^ ei ab 

\\\' were compelled to strike tbrongh his domain, but aa the 
xun was getting low, and we had yet some ten mile* to accom- 
pltnb, we tarried not, but pushed on by the capital high road 
which skirts the bay. Aimiher river, the waves of wliti-h reached 
the hip, together with several smaller strvams gorged by tho 
rising tide, had to be fordeil ere we reached the hamlet called 
Torrin ; had wo been half an honr later, ore sfaoald probably hara 
bem oaable (o make onr way acrost the Kwamp by which this place 
ia approaclicd. And, gnu-ioua hearena, what a place it is'- what 
■malor, what misery, does it display I Ladies and gentlemen 
WBO flutter tlieir cambric at Exetor Hall, who weep for the dark* 
MM of Heathendom, aud send Bibles, and blausls, and con- 
reited Israelites to the uttermost \tivM of the earth, should he- 
think tlieusctres of a mission to 'I'orrin. Urilisih labourers, who 
mainUtin that a poor man caunot be worse off'tbau hu i:*, and n-ba 
look upon '* an order for the House," a^ condemnation to the 
lowest depths of miser}', should pass % month there — a week 
might do. Curious admirers of Regent Street l^artlimen, Mi- 
lesian Kafirs, and Waterloo Place Wigwam<), shonld proceed 
thither at once, per steamer, and they would witness a genuine 
exhibition of human wrctcbedneiis and degradation, that the wilds 
of America, or tlir lagoons of Africa could scarcely surpass. 

Quitting this sad collection of huts and hoveU, we pur!>ued the 
road through a district which, in gloom and repnldveness, >ield»l 
to none wc ever trnverKcd. On cither sioe we were hemmed 
in by stagnant poola^ and rank beds of rushes. Acrosr. our path, 
aovr that the shailes of night wore settling fast, crawled lizards, 
loadt and creeping things innnmcrablr. Kvei^- now and then a 
plonp of teal, a heron, or a wisp ofsoipe, disturbed at our ap]>roaeh, 
wonld surtle us as ibey rose auinst at our very feet. The morass 
itself was bounded by low bare hilU, whose outline was scarcely to 
be dtstinguishcd froui the murky sky beyond. Nor was llie hand of 
mail wauting to nuke the scene of desolation perfect. Here and 
there were to be traced the dismantled homes of the ejected poor ; 
roof and roof*tree gone, nothing left but the blackened hearth, 
md stone walls, with tlicir tapestry of soot ! 

One building in particular attracted our attention. Its extent 
aad style indicated some advance in civilization ; traces of a 
Bowar-gorden were visible; there was a rude attempt, too, al oma- 



ment to be detccttd iu llie hrolicii masonry, a stiinng after some- 
Uiing more titan a mere retreat from " ^iiiamer's heat and wia- 
ter*s suowt" lliac rendei-cd its ruined slate ull the tnnrt' pitiable. 

It was eleven o'clock when we reached Broadford, and most 
acceptable pruned the supper (of hcrriogs, ss a mattec of course,) 
that there nwailcd us. On the following aJtemoon we crossed the 
ferry at Kyle llhca, intending; to enjoy an easy day, and take onr 
rust at Gieiiel^j ; but the inn proved so repulsire autl bo dclicient 
in ihu victimllin^ dupartmcnt, tbnt, late as itwsH, we dutennincd 
to pusli on tho additional nine mtlt-s, and sleep at the wcll-Vnoim 
station ul Lrn-b Sheil. Here, nestled in one of the most beau- 
tiful of the Highland valleys, the rieh luxuriance of which con- 
trasted most forcibly with the surrounding desert, we found an 
inn of considerable promise. One po^ibility, indeed, had not 
occurred to us — that of its beinj,' full; such, however, to our dis- 
may, proved to be the case. There was no room whatever: therfi 
was no bed, there was no loft; tlit; sofa was bespuke, the dining- 
lable wns tpucupi«d, the kitchen wns crowded; Hivn^ was another 
house about eight miles on, perhaps we might find accommoda- 
tion there. Thus much was gathered from the dirty and dis- 
agrceablo old woman who, reluctantly, had opcnetl the door. 
We entered, ordered lea, explained the absolute impossibility 
of proceeding further at that hour of the night — it wjis about 
ten — and left the said dirty and disagreebio old woman to her 
remedy. Protestations, remonstrances, bowlings followed, but 
found us quite iinptrturbablo. AM was at a dead lock. Wien, 
lo I tlio Deux ex maciitnd, a divinity in the guise of a pretty dark- 
eyed girl, appeared suddenly and rL*solved the difficulty in an in- 
stant. A couii'ot table meal should be prepared forthwith, and 
mattresses and blankets should bo arranged for us on the floor of 
the public room ; nothing could be simpler. 

The guests had already bcRun to withdraw, and we were soon 
left alone with a party of three young gentlemeu, who produced 
short pipes and seemed disposed, a Hltle to our inconvenience, to 
make a night of it. The picturesque costume of these indivi- 
duals, tlieir constrained denifauunr, half-shv, hulf-suspicious, and 
espt'cinlly tlieir conversation, which, so far as it was andlblc, 
seemed lo run mostly upon " Modtrations," .tscliylus, and eight- 
oais, proclaimed them Oxford undergraduates. There is certainly 
a naire arrogance petiuliar lo university men, which those who are 
unaccustomed to college hubits find it a little diflicutt to endure. 
It would appear tu be a sort of distemper which youth must un- 
dergo, but uhich, like measles, unbecoming; while it lasts, leaves 
no ultimate blemish, and is rarely dangerous, except where it 
terminates fatally in a fellowship. In the three cases before tis, 
the eldest patient had nearly recovered from the attack, another 
was sufTeriug but slightly, but the third, a plain little fellow, whose 
face mighl liiive been quite clean, although it did not look so, vrta 
very grievously atllictcd. 

It was not a littlu amusing lo watch the proceedings of the 
three, which we had an opporiuuity of doing during llio following 




day; the convalescent oondtictcd btisiness examining bills and 
la}'ing ont tiie route — liis frieiKi, n Jiue bondsoiiie ^oung man, 
" did'iit cam a screw" fur tlietie matters. It was his raVc to 
enact tlie model pedestrian, und Iio certainly dre!<>8ed tlic part to 
perfectioa. In the inornin],' ho appeared in panoply ; orer one 

iftboulder van slniif^ n tolescupc; a leatlicni pumc, about the size of 

'■small car|)L-tbag, dc[>cnded from tlic oilier; a cord,p&stied across 
his t>re.i»t, held a capucious spirit flask, wvll luutchetl hy the 
cigtr case peeping from one of the shooriiig-pockels of IiIk jat-kel. 
A bovic knife, of formidable cliaracter, gleamed by his side, as bft . 
took hU breakfast; and a conipas.s, to say nothing of soinu dozen 
other articles, tlic utility of which was not so apparent, glittered 
on his watclirbain. lits knapsack, an maybe Rnp])nsed, was a 
Wonderful construction, half drcsfting-cnuc, half portmanteau, 
sucnred by innumerable striips and buckli^s, whicrh iL took about i 
half an hour to arrange. As for the little gciit, him of thd' 
doubtful countenance, whom my friend pronounced lo boevidentlj I 
a "' Hair* man, ho trotted behind, and seemed the butt and Tlier> 

[sites of ihe party. 

Fi-oni what has bc(.-n already said on the subject, the reader will 
have gathered that the weather during our trip was not of the 
most favourable desciiptiun ; airtl :iIj<iuI this time it became, to 
say the trutli, w(dl nij^h insupportable. In short, we grew weary 
of living in waterproof capes of wading through morasses to catch 
filimpscK of murky scenery, and still more, of toiling along the 
high roads, (and high indeed some of ihera are,) seeing noifatng 
but the driving rain. One morning, therefore, the posBihilily of 
cutting Rhort the lour was timidly hinted at hy Mr. l-'ixby — the 
propriety of doing so was next suggested by his friend — both 
rushed .tuddunly ami simnltancuuKly lo the natural conclusion, and, 
within half an hour, wc were bending our footsteps resolutely 
homewards. That night we slept at the capital inn of Glengarry 
and l3.kiug boat next day on tho Caledonian canal, sleauied dowi 
pleasantly to Fort William. 

Of the »ea voyage to Gla.sgow, I shall say nothing. Of th<. 

Internal bcrrings for breakfast, of the crowded canal boat, of the 
waggish gentleman who never took breakfast aboard a steamer, 
objecting to the application in culinary matters of the commercial 
principle — small profit and a quick return — of tho niasK of fog 
which they told me was tlic Isle of Bute ; of the jiitehing and 
mlling and quivering and fizzing of the vessel — of such things [ 
haTO some lioaling and vague remembrance. Hut the verr 
attempt to niaik them more distinctly, produces a heaving in my 
head and a ringing in mine ear, and gladly 1 tuni to the lionesC 
Glasgow bodies whose good cheer soon restored me to health and 

At the Gcoi'go and Soho we fared Bumptuously ; the chief 
waiter, \w might have been the proprietor in dis-^inise, was evi- 
dently a cunnoisoeur iu cookery, and ex|>atiated on the various 
dishes with considerable wslc ; our chamber was lofty and hixn- 
riously furnished ; aud our hill, quod omnitun rerum est ultirnum. 


2IB. FIXDY's visit TO SKTS. 

was very moderate— die diimera figttriDg Uiemo at two sliillinge, 
4Bd ihv. \tcds at eight(.'[>i]]ii.-Dce a-piece. 

We fiiuuil but few objects of urcliilcctoral nitrrMt to en;^ge 
our alteutiou, with the exception ol' tli« C«tliednil, the University, 
aiid ihc chimneys. On uiiiciiuf; the first, 1 wns not a tiule noiuscd 
at the situ pie- minded politeness of the prcsbrt^rian doorkeeper. 
As a Tuaiter of cour&c, X uiicorered my bead — the geutletnao did 
the saino for aii iustaul, aud bowed. 

** Pray, sir, keep on your hat.'* said he, observing that I retained 
miuo ill uiv haud> '* you see 1 do" — and the n^od man si^eined 
quiut concerned at my decliuing to avail uiybolf of liis kind per- 

Meanwhile tn>' friend, who had at last mounted his holiby, rose 
in liiK btirnips aud gave her her head ; away ftliR went, for two 
niortnl hours, over groined roof and iM;nuaieutal brass, over 
f»>iuDiu, arch and corbcU, down into crj'pts, up into roodlofta, 
leaving myself aud my imcerciDOtiious attenihiiit breoihlesslf 

"This of the foiirteeDlh century !" muttered the rider, " pooli ! 
nonsense! — that Nomiaii ! stuff! — look at tlie moulding ! — this a 
part of the origiiuil edifice ! ridicidous ! why there is a coat of 
anus carved on tho ceiling," etc. etc. 

Aud in this manuer did ho proceed nilldeBslv to confute, and 
■catter to tttu winds all tlie various dates with wtiirh the building 
was plentifully tabellud. For my owu part, not being particular to 
a Ci-mury or two, and not being learned in the law by which Hicsc 
matters arc decided, I slipped away and anuised myself by endea- 
vouring to sketch a piece of cuhuur> caning that hid formerly 
suppoited one of the leaden giiltori). It rirprCKenls the undying 
worm with his fungs Hxed upon the brovr of the condemned. 

Tliat evening wc Ret ntf iot town, aud I fouud as 1 paid my iive- 
and-twenly sltilliugs lor the excursion lickcl, (tlie same boon being 
conceded to Glasgow as to Edinburgh,) thai of ten pounds which 
had ganushed my purse at starling, two aud sixpence remained, 
nut 1 tliiuk, all things considered, a vcrj- nn satisfactory* result. 

And hero I Iny down my pen. If, in tlie space of these few 
pagi-s, I »hd]l have conveyed any information to (he enquiring 
tutu'ist, any eucuura}^emcnt to llie timid and decision to the irreso- 
lute, if 1 sliall have made but one vagabond the more, I shall not 
have taken it up in vain. One word of warning to the gentle 
married reader, and I conclude. I^it Iiim not, when moved by the 
lieru'-al of this iruc history — who has liinisolf set out and done 
much, and dune more, and d»tic it better, and lias quaked his 
slicrr)' in proud satisfaction at his acliieveiocuts — let him not go 
bome to his expectant spouse without the shawl-^— as I did. 





CHAPTcn ir. 


' Mil. O'CoNNOB paused at Uiis part of bis narratit-e, as Uie coach 

up at ihe Marvboro Hotel, for a change of horses. Wu had 

;d through the Curragh of KUdare, Uic Rccne of his luifortunaio 

^conipauion^s losses^ »ouic couple of hours before, lie did not re- 

isumc his talc until ivi> had led the ton*]] behind tis, and were 

'«pon the high road for Moiintrath. A» the old gentleman still 

Blupt, Mr. O'Connor again leaned fMiward, and thuf continued, 

" ' Now the mistrusb was a beautiful creiilurt-, and he was miKhty 
[foud of h«r — he had (;ood cause, for she was like an angel to him, 
iBhe kucw of (-'Ourse that the horse was to run, but her mind wa*i 
icasy, for the ma&tcr had told her that lie was only going to bet a i 
trifles on the race. God help her ! *t traa well for licr she did not 
know what his wagers were. When she Been him eomiug up the 
;arenue to tlic door, she ruus oat, as she always did to meet him. 
And to give him the eeade mille/eatlha that Ike was always sure of. 
Bui this da}' wlicn ab« came up to Irtnij she stopped short, for it 
vas not tlie same face she looked u|>an, that she once fell in lore 
ilrith. Joe and I slunk away as quietly as wc could, for we were 
afraid to see her crying. He never said a word to Iitr, uuiil they 
got into the parlour, and then he up and told her that he had woa 
the day. Women can see a long way, and she would not bclieroj 
it at fin>t, until he laughed, and swore it was true. But bis langl|4 
Liras Fo terrible that ebv thought he must bo sick, and Kurc enough] 
^ Ito said hu was, that tlic cxciLemcut had been u>n much for him, so 
le took her arm and went up to bed. ^licu she thought be was 
Iccp f^he lay down besido bim, lea^'ing tlie candle lighted ia 
caaohe might want her assiKlaTiec during the night. 

*' * To make a long story short, she awoke in tht- middle of a doze; 
slie had felt him kissing her cheek, but !>he did not open her eyes, 
determining to see as soon as possible what be was about. He was i 
Manding by the side of her bed half drejised, and she fell that 
sooicLbing must be wrong — lie went otxr lo the dresging-tabla 
irliere ^e c:mdle wss, opened a writing case he always kc]>l iu tha, 
room, and began to write a letter. SIk^ made no noise, but gc ' 
quietly nut of beil, and went over lo him, to tell him thai she was 
afraid he'd take cold. By tliis lime he had fiiiii^licd bi.s wnting — a 
something clicked on her ear, she saw in the glass what it wu- 
with a wild cry she ruOied at him, Hung ber aims ronod bis nee] 
— ebook his baud— at the same moment a pi^ol was dischargee' 
s«d the biilk-t pierced her heart Tlie report brought us all to the 
foom, I was ibe first lo break open the door, for X had it on myj 



mind nil the CTcning that he'd be for destroying himself somelion*. 
When wc entered, there he stood, n'ith ilie pistol in his hand, and 
the mistress dead aod bleeding on the floor, lie never said a 
iTord, but loolicd like a born fii^iid, first at her and then at the 
pUlol — wc put on his clothes — he made no resistance — and were 
taking him awaj — when his eye fell upon the letter lie had been 
writing; — I anw what was on the top — it was "my beloved and 
much-injured Eliza ;" but before I could read more he tore it into 
i^eccs — laughed like a madiuaui and thru«t the iV^nients wildly 
into his mouth. We tried to stop him, but could not — ho swal- 
lowed ihcm all. ^V^leo I saw that, my heart fell down inside of 
me, fori tucw that when that evidence was destroyed, a trial must 
go hard with liiiu. For our own sakes we put him into his chaise, 
and delivered him up to the authorities — we all knew he did not 
kill her purposely ; but we had uo other course to follow.* 

" *■ Was he tried,' I asked as the roui;h steward paused, evidently 
from ft desire to subdue his rising emotions. 

" ' God help him, he was,' he answered, 'but as he was as jnad 
OS a March liuve, Ihcy of course could make nothing of it. .\l iho 
inquest the coroner thought, and so did the Jury, that tt happened 
as I told you; but he persisted himself iu saving tliat he had 
murdered her. At the tiial ho was acquitted of the crime, but 
iras sent immediately to the Lunatic Asylum, near Dublin, the 
friends of his wife giving every charge concerning his safe keeping. 
For two- and- twenty years he has been confined, and during most 
of thftt lime 1 have been with him : when his mind became settled 
again he was scut away. You see what he is now, but you cannot 
imagine what lie has been. I'm taking him down uow lo Iier family 
in Limerick— the change may do him good.' 

'** And the house?' said L 

" ' No one ever lived iu it since ; tlie people all think that it 'h 
lianntcd : and as no caro has been taken of it, it looks .is though 
it and its fonner owner were running a race, ascoachy said, to we 
ivhicii would be first iu the dust.' 

" * Is he quiet now ?' 1 inquired. 

"'Oh! like a lamb,' said Mr. O'Connor; 'the only starts he 
crcr lakes is iu thinking that ttomething will tell him wiien he is to 
die. He has a deal of learning, and believes in the stars.' 

" As I made no remark upon the stntuge story thus related, Mr. 
O'Connor and Coachy Joe entered into a conversation upon the 
subject nearest the heart of the latter. I felt no desire to join 
them, and knowing tlial they would be better matched side by- 
side, 1 offered to resign my seat in favour of the former gcnllcmaa 
as soon as we should stop to change horses at Monntrath. He 
tliaukfully accepted my oflcr, and in less than leu minutes the 
change was effected. 

" I then found myself, for the first time, by the side of the unfoi 
tuuate being whose recklessness, and the calauiiliea atteudun^ 
tlicrcupou, had so lately been the objects of my interest. He had 
been Hrou.*:ed by the hustle of changing r^eats and horses; and, as 
1 looked upon his strange eyes and reverend bearJ, I determined 



that llio fault uliouM not he mine if lie did uot UDbosom liimsclf 
more IViily In mo b-^fnro llie iiioniiiig broke. 

" I had a fltisk in my possession. 

** * liullu, Riordan,' cried oitc or tiro, m that gentlemau gave a 
start ni tliu mcniiun of tlie llask, ' wns ii yours he had ? '' 

** No ; it was not Riordan's ! ! t was noi that legacy left by a de- 
parted uncle; but it was very like it. Well, baring BhaVecl its 
contiMits willi him, I opened the fire, by asking him casually, irhe- 
iher he \vere a stmnger in that part of tlie country. 
. ** lie withdrew his gaze from the Jiearens, upon which it had 
been fixed since he had returned mo the Uttlc jiUfs I usually car- 
ried for the purpose of diriding my healthful doses carefully. A 
shadow scented to have passed over his face when he lookt-d at 
ne; he pressed hiii forefinger ihoughlfully to his temple fur a 
noment, and then suid, 

" ' No — 1 have not been — but yes — ye*, I surely must know this 
place ; but it seems greatly changed. My friend told me ire were 
Id iratcl this— Oh ! to be sure, — I hare been here before.' 

*' lie spoke undecidedly, and in disjoiuted scnlences. The last 
few words were said slowly, and a figh that followed them made 
me regret that I had asked the ([tiesiion. As t fell myself thai 
pressing the subject further uiuM be torture to him, 1 immedialely 
turned the conrvrsntiua into another channel. 

*' Wd discoursed for a time upon various subjects ; and I nras 
rejoiced, ns well as Burpriseti^ to find that, gradually as wc pro- 
ceeded, ho warmed, and his counleuancc assumed a lively expres- 
sion. He seldom looked at me, but sat as he spoke uiih \m arms 
folded across his chest, and his eyes riveted upon tlie torches of 
the sky. I was much enlightened whilst listening to a brilliant 
discourse relating to the heavenly bodies, so logically set down, 
thai I feel assured Mr. O'Connor was not far astray when he 
Koid he believed in the stars, for he must assuredly have made, 
astronomy ono of his favniirifc studies during some portion of his 
chequered life. He that as it may, a couple of hours passed 
Bwtfllv away, and my journey was rendered an exceedingly plea- 
sant one. 

" One portion of his conversation lives vividly in my memory ; 
and if I am nul trespassing too much upon yuur patience, geutle- 
mcn, I shall be happy Co narrnio it." 

\ unanimous wish tliat he should proceed, if he did uot himself 
feci fiiigueil, was the immodiato tesiionsc. 

Mf. Irfimcr continued : — 

" * I am, nol,' said my compaaion in Ihe closely-bulloncd frock, 
* what I have been ; L am altogether chnngcd ; I am a difTerent 
being, both in mind and body. The life of m;in is made np of 
strange aud incongruous materials. Pleasure, IIopo, Joy, Suc- 
cess, Pain, Despair, .Sorrow, and Misfortune frtrcing ihemselvos al- 
ternaltly into the lillle space of time allotcd him for seeing the 
sun, and seeking out a resting-place iu (lie louthsome charnel- 
liouse. Mine has hecn a strange and varied existence; but the 
ills, I am sorr}' to sayi iiave forced the blessings loo often to kick 



tbe beam. Had we aU our lires to lire over again, I often ask 
myself, should ve act differently i Common sense ar^es that wa 
ought ; but Experience — that hoary prophet, wfao takes his being 
j|om the death of past deeds, and ever points with his chastening 
hand at follies in the prospective that may be shunned, but ar» 
not — pTOves that we should not. Man is essentially a creature of 
passion ; sound judgment and his nature are antagonistic. And 
why is it so ? Because Wisdom is not a cluld of Earth, she is a 
dweller amongst yonder stars. Folly and Absurdity are our por- 
tion ; the legacy has been bequeathed to us by our first parents. 
We note it with pain in our children^ as it grows with their growth, 
and strengthens with their strength.* 

" He paused a moment, placed his hand to his forehead, as if to 
collect his ideas, and then turning full upon me his pale face, 
which seemed almost spectral in the glare of the moon, asked me 

" * Are you a believer in dreams ?' 

" My answer did not seem at all satisfactoiy to him. I merely 
sud that I had but little faith in them. He gazed fixedly at me 
for a moment, and then shaking his head moomfiilly, said, 

" ' You will change your opinion, young man, before you are 
much older.' 

'* Again his hand to bis head. This time the expression of his 
countenance was decidedly one of pain. He clenched his teeth 
and breathed heavily. 

" I ventured to ask him, whether he felt unwelL 

" ' No, no, no,' he replied, eagerly ; and then, in a lower tone, 
* 1 11 tell you what it was. Closer — closer still ; the vulgar must 
not hear it. It was the whisperings of Destiny. I uncover my 
head to her divinity.' 

"So saying, be removed his hat, presenting to my view a head 
partially bald, of the most noble proportions, and fringed with 
long silvery hair, that trembled lightly in the chilly breeze. He 
lifted his eyes, as if in mental supplication to the spangled con- 
cave above us ; and as I gazed in admiration at the striking 
picture, I felt that I could fully enter into the feelings of those 
respected antiquaries who wander for amusement and research 
among the crumbling monuments of bygone ages, which arise in 
all the sublimity of hoary grandeur, amid their own cheerless 
ruins, giving to Uie world an idea of what they once had been. 

" * And you don't believe in dreams ? ' he said, carefully weighing 
everj' word, and still looking upward. ' I am older than you, and 
I do ; mark that. Have you faith in the agency of the Btara ?* 
he asked, after a momentary pause. * Do you believe that Fate 
is their minister?* 

*' ' I have not studied the glorious theme,' said I, * sufficiently 
to make you an answer.' I feared to say no ; you may judge 
from what cause. 

"'I see you are an unbeliever, young man,' he continued, 
calmly. * I pity you from my soul. Listen ! The star of my 
nativity is now in the ascendant. To-night it shines brightly. 



Yoa cannot sec it ; and even if tou could, iU langaago would be 
mute to von ; van would not lu' able to uote its peculiar aspect.' 
Hf became silent. 1 feared that the tlirc&d of bis tboti(;hls was 
entangled, and tbat svinptoiD» of tbe mulady from which be so 
long had Kuffrred were apain busily at work. I beartily regretted 
tliat I bad changed my scat : but the deed was dune, and I dared 
not then venture to makv another uiove. I felt nervous, the more 
so wlu-n be laid his thin wliite hand conAdtintially npon my nrm^ 
and. bringing bis face closer to mtne^ said in a low lone, ' You 
aiiBlI bear my dream.' 

" i wa« in a Ax. Ltl:c a king at chess, check-mated where bis 
eutle had itiood, I bad but two moves. One was into the arms of 
my besieger, the other — off tbe board. As I knew Lliat tlie latter. 
eonrso Mouhl subject me to a heavy fall upon a hard road, 1 de- 
tcnnined fur the time to hold my ground warily, and resume my 
place beside the coachman at tbe first available opportunity. 

** * I like your face,* he resumed, in a low tone j * it is frank and 
open. I like your flask ; it has an invigorating tendency. Have 
tbe goodness to share its contents wttb me again.' 

" I did BO willingly. He relished it greatly. 

*** Thank you,' he said ; 'tba* refreshes me. Now, iliere is one 
thing about you that I do not like.' 

" * Indeed ! what is that i ' 1 asked, nen'ously. 

" ' Yonr want of faith tn dreama ; yoor ignorance of the stir*. 
The latter are the mlers ; tbe former the mirrora of our destimca. 
At times they may distort the tnitb, but they have always thcit 
ri^htenu^ ends, ftly dreams do so at limes ; yet have I confi- 
dence in t)iem. Tbey possess over my mind tbe same influence, 
■ad awaken in my breast as sacred an awe as did tbe oracle with 
the ancients. To what have tbey ever tended } To the power of 
on* iUr. I see it again to-night There it ia !— it beckons me. 
Now, what do ynu augur from that ?* 

•• My breath was inhaled with difficulty. Hi« eyes were peering 
closely into mine. I felt uiy heart palpitate in an unwonted 
manner. I knew not what answer to make : but said, tremu- 

'" I regret thai I am no diviner of signs.* 

*** / read your soul,' ho rejoined. * It is a large one. So is 
mine. Tliere existn an aflinity between our spirits. I know it. 
They may yet be blended together. The samo star rules us, al- 
though nnr fates arc distinct. You marvel at my words ; 1 feel 
tbat you do ; yet aro Ibt-y tnif, — true as tbe unalterable vault 
AboTo iw, that aparklcA with dazzhug meteors. I dreamt, that 
the night upon which tbat star beckoned mc would bo my last. 
It has done so witbiu the hour. 1 must obey its call. A short 
liniG will decide the f]ue«lion. If 1 have spoken falsely, remain 
an unbeliever; if on the cnntrarv, change your faith. Farewell !* 

" Jle grasped my hand fervently as be spoke, and then withdraw- 
ing from hia breast d written paper or manuscript, which had 
donbtleas been commenced many years before, yet preserved with 

V 2 



tfao greatest care, lie faaudcd it to mc, saying, still In a subdued 

" ' Read that wlien we part. It is a disjointed iiarralire of my 
life. iL ni:ty be a guide to you. Take warning by inc. Vuu are 
youni; in Uie crafts of iho world. Continue so. Fni'cwcll '.' 

"He replaced his liat firmly upon bis bead, folded bis arms 
tightly u{ioD his breast, leaned back against tlie luggage on llio 
top of the coacb, and nras fast asleep in jivc niiiiute'S. 

" I was perfectly petrified at wlial had paRsed. A madman beside 
ine, Iiis bequest in my possession, and I as yet uuinjured ! Could 
he be in reality asleep J Ho scfnned so, for he snored lustily. I 
called the attention of the uian in the frieze coat to a part of our 
late conversation, but saiO iiothiug of the paper. Ue bade me not 
to mind liim, Kaid that such nas liis way, and that, notMiiliKtand- 
ing hi» wanderings, he was perfectly harmless. 1 replied lliat my 
position Vjis fur fruin being jileaftaiil, aud Uiat if he unuld permit 
me to FC!itime my scut on the box, he would be placini; mc under 
au especial obligation, lie immediately acquiesced. Wo changed 
intbuut more (tdu ; aud as I felt mystrlf once more comparatively 
^afc, 1 tlirust the manuscript into my pocket, and fell into a doze. 

" When next I opened my eyc«, the lorch-bearers of tho uight- 
quccu had extinguished their lights. Morning had opened her 
curtains in the ciisi^ for the passage of the rising sun. Zephyrs 
Itissod our cheeks, but their breath was chill. I glanced at conchy 
Joe; he nodded a good morning, llie position of my eccentric 
companion of llic night was still the same, bis keeper, Mr. O'Con- 
nor, beinn also wrup|)ed in a heavy slumber. We were about to 
enter a large town, \ihen tiie shrill btabt of the guard's horn gave 
token that he iras at tlic moment no sluggard. The sound upon 
the clear air was sharp and loud ; it awoke tho echoi.'S around us, 
and tlic proprietor of the frieze coat behiud us, but bad no effect 
whatever npon the tall, lliin man. 

" ■ Vour friend sleeps soundly,' 1 said, after baring returned bis 
morning salutation. 

'' ' Oil, he does so generally,' be answered, *lmt I 'II noon wake 
him np.' Saying which, he laid his hand upon liis shoulder, and 
shook bim rather harshly. The only eG'cct producctl by the at- 
tempt was the falling of the sleeper's amis from their folded posi- 
tion. They hung strangely, and in right angles before bim. 
Another shake, and the hat fell off. ' Hallo!' cried the keeper 
<rur such I afterwards learned was his vocation), * what game is 
up here?' 

** I stretched acrosi?, aud lifted one of his bony hands ; tlie touch 
Was sufficient. 

"'Good Heavens!' I ejaculated, as it fell heavily upon bis 
thigh ; * his dream was a truth. The man is dead !* 

"Tlic utmost excitement and consternation prevailed within and 
without the coach. The poor old luualic, who had siiared my 
ilask, delighted me nttli bis early conversation, and idiimately 
affrighted me with his strange faith in dreams, bad rcritied his 



orrn inconceivable nrcdictton: "Tbo night thai my star beckons 
me shall be my laslr 

" He was removed from the coach by O'Connor, nt the town wc 
irerc entering, at the momcut of the <lii^covcr>', a fallen mouumeut 
of life's uncertainty. Apoplexy was ilonbtlcss tJic cause, and the 
pain ihai drew his hand so often to his forehead during the Initer 
portion of our conversation, was evidently a prctuonitury svuintom 
of his approaching di&solutiou. 

** Again ihr horn ran^ out, and we rolled away from the hotel, 
leaving behind us that peaceful candidate for a solitary niche in 
the uunumberod * catacombs of eternity.' Wo left htm to the 
care of his faithful keeper, and the verdict of a coroner's inquest. 
Of my own faith in dreams I shall not venture to speak, nor ret 
shall 1 question yours. Gcutlomen, my glass is tmpty, und loy 
story told."" 


Althocoh wc were strifcly verging towards that "witching 
hour of night, when churcbynrds ynwn," — {vide " Hamlet" for 
the continuation) — nut onu of us appeared inclined to take old 
lather Time by the forelock, crc ho cast another day into his cn- 
DAcioua wallet — by seeking the sveet compiiuiunahip of the sheets. 
Ctgurs bad, since nine o'clock, nssisted the majority of the com- 
pauy tu the consumption of their wine; and an fresh ones had 
been lighted by some three or four gentlemen, I determined^ 
although somewhat fatigued by my journey, and considerably 
elated by uiy shght potations, to zemaiu, whiht a frieudly cloud 
continued to he blowu. A call upon Mr. Riordan for one of the 
many anecdotes with wliich his brains were stored, met with 
unanimous approbation; and as be was by far too much ex|>e- 
rieuced in such social eumpaignin^s to keep his allies long in 
suspense, he stretched his limbs a little more in the horizontal 
position, and thus began : — 

" I am not gifted, gentlemen, with, the talents tlint, like the 
tale of King Iticbard the Second, might ' send my hearers weeping 
to their beds/ nor do 1 at the present moment wish to be the 
owner of them. Neither shall I 

" * Converse of worm*, of pravM, and i^i^ilaplis, 
Make dust aiy pillow, and villi niny vyn 
Write sorroM oii tlic bosom of tlic vartli :' 

I have no such auibition; but if it prove i^reenble, I shall feel 
delighted in giving to you a slight account of my early days, my 
scholastic reminixccnces, and the strange chance upon which the 
fate of my life has turned. 

" No one present has ever been favoured with a sight of the 
Garden of Kdcn, ihcrcforu your opinions of that place must have 
been hypothetically fomted. Jiut, answer me this, Uai'e any of 
vou ever been to Ireland ?" 



" I have^*' from btilf-«-ilozen tongnes or more, answered the 


'*' Then you know that tlie rrarden of Eden naa oiilr a kitchen 
garden compnrcd to it ; or if you don't know it, uHow one that 
does to assure you oi' the fact. They weru hotfa laid out upua 
the same principle, — Kdcu first, Irdaud aitorwardsj but the second 
option has been revised and improved — " 

"Considerably abridged also," suggestod Lomer, 

" Granted," continued Riordiin, without a smile j " afaridgeil of 
its parliaments, and it^ right to distil poteen. Bat no more 
of that ; those glorious priWIegcs shall yet bo restored, and the 
days of my ancestors rCT'ivrd." 

Having dclivcrt-d himself, with dun emphasis and diacretimi, of 
this prophetic and Bumcwbat patriotic speech, and insertcU both 
his thumbs in the arm-holes of Iiis extensive waistcoat, he cod- 
tiuued — 

" Fergus O'Uiordnn was my ■grandfather — " 

" How is it, then, that| the ' O' is not prefixed to your name " 
asked one, " if your grandfather gloried in it?" 

" ^ly dear inquisitive friend, the reason is, or ought to be, safll- 
ciently obriouB. No Saxon tongue conld get round the ' O,* for 
it was a round and a krge one; so, in pity for the national failing, 
and oat of veneration for the great departed, who revelled in the 
honour conferred by that luscious vowel, I detached it from my 
surname, hut determine to have it ou my tombstone. 

"This ancestor of mine owned, together with the *0,' as large 
a heart, as jolly a soul, and as whiskey -proof a constitutioa as were 
ever allied within oue upright tenement uf the beat homc-uutde 
manufacture. He was vcr^' fond of me, tauglit me my catecihuiii, 
»nd how to cross a country after the hounds. He also took ft 
piide in teaching me the rudimcuts of Latin, and the right way to 
handle a patent hair<triggcr; hut his chief delight existed in 
giving me practical lessons iu my prayers, and initiating ino into 
the iiolilc mysteries of mixing punch. In short, he was a man of 
uulimited accomplishments. 

" When in (he hunt, his tallv-ho o'cttopp'd llie hunuauin's call. 
F«r few could ride, could n^^hc, ar drink, with liim of KioTfbn IIiU; 
With fix rod buuit^i 'iiejith hii belt, lie 'd ciuss a fire-foot wbI[, 
And on hi) knife st twenty yards lie 'd split n piitol Ivall, 

Like a jvvul Irish geiulcuum, as of tlie got>d uld times." 

When Mr. Riordan had relieved his feelings by singing the 
ahore-quotcd lines, iu pious retipect to the shade of his grandsirc, 
he applied one corner of his hntidkerdnef to one eye, and the faB 
tumbler to his lips, as if to drive away some supposed intruder, 
and tlius contiuued : — 

" I was, as you may imagine, extremely attached to him, and aa 
the liking was reciprocated, we were constant comiwnions. But 
a day of s^^paralLon arrived, and 1 was »cnt to school. He mt8»ed 
me very much, especially of an crening; and I missed him also, 
ho allowed mc a great mauy perquisites, although my office 




WU % perfect siuccure. That from which I derived the greatest 
emolument was k)'ir|)iuf; a strict rcclidning of the number of 
tumblers of punch he driuilc after dinnnr. I luul a penny for 
ereiy ouc he mixed, so thnt 1 miglit be cnreful and correct in my 
cnleulnlions ; and the pennies, as I received thcm^ veto to lie, by 
a standing rule, at my eidc, hut furthest from him, on the t^ble. 
His limit was eighteen, and my bnsinesit was to see thnt he never 
permitted himself to exceed that number. Whenever 1 made m 
xniatake, by »hpping a piece or two surrcptiliouRU' into my pocket, 
in order to make my earnings the greater, thnt remarkable old 
man was sure to detect me ; and by vny of a severe pnnishmcnt, 
and for the purpose of giving me a positive token of his disappro- 
bation, he nsed immediately to give mo a sixpence extra, and send 
me to bed. But the good, kind sonl never sentenced me to suf- 
fer alone, for he usually imposed a heavy penalty upon himself; 
and in proof of lua sorrow at my short-comings, he would sit alone, 
and drink an extra tumbler for every penny he had given me. I 
liave said I missed him ; I leave you^ gentlemen, to judge how 

Another application of the handkerchief, and a. heavy sigb, 
•poke the bnrthen of his grief, ere he rcsamed his narrative. 

*' Well, I was sent to school, bnt that was not nt all to my taste, 
tlio more especially as it wa« a boarding-school, ify spirit* be- 
came exceedingly depressed. I made few acquaintances, but was 
constantly employed in thinking of home, and how my dear grand- 
latlier could pottsibly manage tu get on at his wlusky and water, 
without his juvenile aocrctary and Ganymede. He must have 
made fearful mistakes ; I felt it — and mourned the nnjust cause. 

" Ll-s&uus were puzzles to mu that my mind could not unravel ; 
and my brain seemed gifted with the peculiar qualifications so 
nseful in a sieve, for whatever 1 learned was gone again in a mo- 
ment. 1 had a great deal to contend with. The ho^'s saw that I 
was dull, and being pn'irucious in their annoying pn>penHitic.H, they 
contrived, by way of amusement, to make my sorrtiws a subject for 
their mirth. The masters were surprisod at my stupidity, and 
liberal iu their punishments. Like all gentlemen of the same 
class, they seemed determined to get sense into my f:omposition 
by aome racims; when they failed to drivo it iu at the top, they 
adopted the other expedient. I am free to confess tJiat, whatcvci' 
1 loirned at that school, was owing to the latter process. 

"One day, tlic chief master, anno\'cd at my idleness, obstinacy, 
or some aucb cause, nskcd me, in ncftpair, what 1 was Jit for? — 
what I could do F I answered him boldly, that I coold ride a 
race, bleed a horse, follow a hnut, strike a shitting from between 
his fingrrs at twenty paces, or mix whiskey punch with auy of 
double my age in Ireland. But the dult could not see any evi- 
4lences of genioa in any of my qualifications, and bade mc count 
aay maadeodx by the eanings I received. A practical lUuittratioii 
waa than afforded me, but I found it berond my powers tu calon- 
hte the numbers. I tried it for a time, mit it Aid not possess the 
cbarma of my former vocation. I ceased to conut, and the cauiugs 



were doubled. FJeali aud blood could wot bear it; so X reaohed 
ut last to make a bolt of it, and run. 

" 1 speedily put my resolution into practice^ but was nnfortn- 
nntcly taken lu the net, by tbe senior boy of the scboot. lie was 
whispering fond tales of love to a rustic milkmnid beyond tlie wall 
of the school ; and ai T iunoccntly dropped, as I tlionglit, upon 
the grouad, from my airy elevation, it wi happened that I dropped 
between them. My very blood boiled, as I, a lad of eleven, found 
myself dragged alon^ towards the gate, by a hcrculcau Mdcsian of 
nineteen. I Btruggled fearfully ; but I was only as a ri;ed in liis 
hands, lie gave mo into the custody of the tutors, was conipU- 
meutcd for his detective qualities, whilst I ivas oon5ucd and 
flowed for desertion. 

"My prison was the general dormitory. For a week I was 
alone, uiy thoughts tending all to vengeance against Cunuingbam. 
for he was the destroyer of my peace. I knew that he wa» 
stronger than I was; but I also recollected that science, judg- 
ment, aud dctcrniiuatiou wei'e the stepping- stones to power. I 
resolved upon righteous retribution, gave up my tasks, and took 
my callings thankfully, I gloried tn tbcu ; they inured me to 
blows, and, prodting by their daily aduiinistratiun, I got myself 
speedily into fighting condition. I fought with his prosy (tbat, 
let me inform you, was his pillow) fur hours, labouring hard at 
every stroke, and grimly smiling nt every piuich I bestuw«i upuu 
my yielding opponent, t was surprised at my exercises (not Latin, 
but pugilistic), oue arteriioon, by the hend master. Ue tliought 
I must liavc been mad; so, liaving ^zed at me for a moment in 
amazement, he asked me what I was at ? 1 answered him gruffly, 

*' ' Getting well up in my lesson.' 

"* Oh, initced !' said he; 'and is that the way yon do it?' 

" ' Invariably,' answered I ; ' it gets me into better training.* 

"'Oh!' he said, abruptly quitting the room, 'a change will 
refresh you.' 

" I looked after his receding figure, wondering what the change 
might he; but I was not loug left in suspense, for he speedily 
returned, and with him my Ajax-like foe. I did not tremble, 
not even at the nppeariiuce of tlie cane, but glanced at Cunning- 
ham, and from him to the pillow. It was nt the top of some 
boxes at the end of the room, as high above mc as I eidculated 
his head ought to be, witli n bundle of clothes at the hack of it to 
shield my knuckles from the wall. That glance was nssuring. I 
had not deceived myself in the height ; the last indentation was 
precisely iu the centre, corresponding, as far ns altitude aud pro- 
portion were eoucerned, with the bridge of my opponent's nose. 

"'Horse him up I* shouted the master, 'gymnastic exercises 
arc at times beneticial for active constitutions.' 

" Cunningham advanced eagerly to obey, but, with the force of 
a catapult, my clenched fist struck him between tho eyes, and, 
like another Romeo, lie took • the measure of an unmade grave.' 

"The master drew back in amazement. He was a coward at 
heart, aud feared u similar visitation. Tiien for the iirst time 



I trembled, bnt it was vrith rngo, and ere my sntn^oiiist was 
Af^iu firmly upon hU feet the floor rcsonndcd with bis fnll. Wcl- 
lirifjtoii, when he closed his telescope, on the memorable 6eld of 
Wiitcrluo, waa not more sure of victory timn was i. 1 seized him 
agaio M be ro»e — the sight of his swelling eyes and ble^dioj; 
nostrils was n wavering of the eaemy in my favour. Again bo 
kiiscd the dust, and, like Zanga bestriding the prostrate con- 
(^uerar, or Achillea with the van quia lied XJeclor at bis clmriot 
wheels, I looked a hero, and only panted fur fresh fucs. Cuu- 
ningliiim was driijcgcd from the room. I was left alone lu ray 
triumph, and, if uut 'monarch of all 1 sur?eyed,' 1 knew that 'my 
right there was none to dispute.' 

" A letter was that night despatched by a special messenger to 
Riordiin Hall, and the auj^t moruiug my grandfather nrrived. He 
listened to the master** story, blamed me for being so husty, and 
jave mc half a sovereiga as a mark of disapprobation. At uoou I 
sft the school, and nccunipanied bim homo in the chaise, consol- 
ing myself with the plcnMug reflection, that whilst I was ciijoyinc 
freedom and a deUghtful ride, Cumiingbam was confined to bed 
in a separate room, with a poultice of linseed meal to his distorted 
c ountcnancc. 

" We sat in silence for some time in the old family chaise. My 
grandfather did not speak; a soraethiug evidently weighed hcavilv 
on his benrt. He seldom looked at me, but sighed betimes. I 
did not like those symptoms, for tho one simple rcnaori, that I did 
not understand them. So I reclined lazily in my corner, and the 
lowucss of spirits became sympathetic. At length ho spoke, nud 
bis voice that, notwithstanding age, and an attnehmctit to the 
ktumbler, never before cither 'piped or whistled in it$ aoiiud,' now, 
*rom some cause, or causes, in whieli 1 was evidently concerned, 

:mbted considerably, and was wilb difficulty made audible. I 
feared what was coming, yet longed to hear it ; and his great pe- 
sene in broacbiug the subject added materially to my own trepi- 

*' ' Myles, my lad,' ho said, sorrowfolly, ' I have heard all.* 

"All"! — what was the all? Tbnt I had punched the bead of a 

'rival. That could never annoy him, for he had oftentimes laughed 

himself sober, as be sat Looking at the encounters that look place 

between myself and our gardener's son. What could ho mean ? 

I eoniiiiued silent. 

" ' Myies,* be continued, • I intended to mnke a gcntlemau of 
you — a real gentleman — a priest. 1 *ve now changed my mind.' 

"He ceftRcd, took a piucb of snuff, and lookedont of the window. 

" Kow, although I know Tery well that there wns none of the 
stuff in my composition from which holy fathers are generally 
compounded, yet I ft-lt hurt and bumbled at the words bc had let 
^iktl. [ mildly and deferentially asked, 

" ' Why so' grandfather? * 

" * Uon't call me grandfather, Myleu, my lad ; I am of no 
kindred to you. You have disgraced the blood of the Kiordacs, 
and I disown vou." 



** * Disgrnced them !' I taid. 

** * Ar, disgjKed them ! plncod a blot upon the name that lias 
dewcndcd untwnislicd to mc since hfforc the flood' A bio: tear 
rolled dowu lils stiH ruddv cheek. ' Myles, Myles, you have donn 
that; and tou may earn* to your grave the assurHDce that you 
are the first of the Hue that crer did so.* 

** Unsullied shades of Saint Patrick and Fin-ma-cool ! here was 
a bog I had Talked into 1 What remaijaed for me to do bat aak, 
iu mv innocence, 


" 'Done ! ' he cried, fiercely, * done 1 Wliy, nothing ! That '« 
where you fix the »Uiu upon our shamrock- wreathed (ncutcheon, 
— an indctiblo blur, that iitiist change the tripled Icuf upou wliich 
it bajt fallen, either into a thistle or a lock.' The poor old lool 
leaned bark in the chaise and Bob))cd aloud. * Myles/ be again 
resumed, 'yon have not a loul big enough for a prooe«»-aRTcr, — 
and theirs in supposed to be the smallest. A baililf is a saint to 
yon, and an atttjrucy nn iiiigcl on a tumbRtonc' Again a lung 
pinsc ' I was thinking of making a ganger of yon jnnt now ; but 
you're not fit even for that. Myles, a derksbip is your doom !* 

"' And why a clerkship V said 1. 

'"Brcauiw, yon rascal,* — and here he wept again, — 'becanse 
yon bad not the honourable feelings in vonr sool to prompt you 
to sln^ an inkstand ut the head of the schoolinnsnter, when you inid 
polished o£r the schuhir. Had you done that, and got killed for 
it,' — very pathetically spoken, — * I could have forgiven yon, gloried 
in you, and plueed a monument over yonr grave. But you have 
not doue so, aad I disuMu you. You are no longer a descendant 
of mine.' 

" Fixed as the laws of the Modes and Persians, that alter noi, 
was bis decree. One week afterwards I M^as indentured as a 
clerk. Thirty-one years have since elapsed, and that good old 
floal has been six-nnd-twcnty of them out of the world's turmoil. 
The grandson is still strong, halt-, and hciu'ty ; fond of congenial 
spirits, and capable of mixing his own bqnor. Bat, can you bc- 
Uere it ? he is now about tearing himself away from the best 
society, and encamping beneath the hangings of a single bed." 

Wc broke np iramrdistely after Mr. Riordan had conclnded. 
In twelve minutes, according to my usual calculations, 1 found 
myself in bed, nud witliiu the three minutes following I was fast 



The nest day, having conclnded my fausincas and written my 
letters, I strolled into tlie sniokiiig-ioom, in order to while away 
an Lour. I bad thrown myself into a seat, and nas already turn- 
ing over in my mind tlie crcnta of the day, when the door opened, 
' a clear musical voice said. 



" Bmndy and cold water, sir ! Did you ring?" 

I turned rouiid in my choir lo look nt the owner of the tongne 
tlut could diftcoarse such el<K)UPut laukic. 

" Ve8, please ; six-pcunywortli, and a cigar." 

In the coune of a sccoud I had only the door to look at, fov 
prat^ Mitt Gratton, the barmaid (my Uebc tm tliis occasion), 
nd TBaidied to projiarc my nectar. As she had ^rtood iritit the 
handle of the door iu her hand, I certainly admired her, and caoM 
to the oonclunou, tluring lier tcmporar}' absence, that trhoerer 
had prefixed the "pretty" to her name, had done her no more 
than juAiice. 

" Do you require a light, 31r. Bobbin ? " she asked. 

I felt my consequence growing apaoe. £ven the barmaid had 
cauglit my name. 

" If you pleaae. Miss Gratton." 

A grntiiig mjuikI — n tiHght combustion — a smell as of sulphur— 
and the wavering tlame was before me, held down to coax its pru- 
,|^res8 by as well-formed and delicate a set of fingers as 1 had ever 
1 attached to a female's hand. 

Will you pay now, Mr. Bobbin, or shall I enter the account 
I in your bill?" 

" Wiich yon please," I said, fully determined nercrtbelcss 
pay at the time, were it only for the gratification of Bcetiig hat' 
retnrn to me with the change. 

" Oh, just as you please,— only if yon pay mc now it will be 
iiinciieuoe; if I enter it, and vou pay iu an hour, it will bo a 

" Indeed ! and why is that V 

A pretty shake of the pretty bead belonging to the pretty 
Gralton, wan followed by, 

** I dunt kuotr, but such is the rule." 

"Then take the money by nil means." 

She took it and departed. The ehango was brought in to me 
by the n-.iiln:88. So far I was disuppoiutod. 

And now for a slight digression. fl 

What is a glass of brandy and water? Why are Ihcy mixedl] 
and for what reasun do mcu imbibe the comiwuud ? if strongj 
drinks (when they cin be had ttrong) tend to ilcmoralisc a nation^] 
why does tliat nation's goverumeiit derive so great a r€\euue from 
their coiisuiitptiun ? Is the principal ingredient really guud ? or 
can it be possible that it is decidedly bad? Tlicrc are various 
opinions extant upon the subject. Many able discourses have 
been delivered conceruing it ; many elaborate ecrmouB penned in 
its dis^rour ; many startlmg proofs rlcdnced from its abuses ; . 
many soicidal acts laid to its charge. Poverty, dcgrndntion, ruin,.] 
binary, murder, despair, and a host of such miplrasnnl allachh, arol 
considered as it* chief officers ; and yet the vcrj- men who exclaioiJ 
against it, who preach about it, shudder at it, and advise others ttt| 
fiee from it, are frequently found suffidcntly stubborn and blitid.] 
to their owry convictions, to sit down in their most calm and lactdt 
.mmneuts, ring for the waiter, and gire the same order that I did. 



Kov, so far as I am royficif coticernod, I agree with honest lago, 
that good brnndy, like good wine, " U a good famiUar creature, if 
it be but well med." 1 am williDg to go even further, and uu- 
blushingly own that in many cases 1 like it. I esteem it a whole- 
some companion. Vie never fall out. I have sometimes upset it, 
but it never yet has returned me the compliineat. It treats nic 
Tcll, therefore I enjoy its society. It raises depressed spirits, and 
iuvigoniles the inner man. Take, for exatnplc, the glass I Imd at 
the time before me, and leave the cignr — that soother to the 
senses, immortalised by Byron — out of the question. ^Yhat effects 
had it upou nie ? Why, these : — I thought of the obstacles before 
me. Its I mixed it, and felt ns a pigmy amongst giauta. As I 
vppcd it. I considered my first opinion slightly erroneous. As I 
finished it, I becume amazed at my former despondency ; and 
when I called for a repetition of the beverage, I considered myself 
an unshorn Samson amongst tlic Philistines, 

1 was alone, and haviii'; nottiitig to disturb my ci|UAnimity, I 
fell unconsciously into a delightful reverie, as I sat vriih my legs 
stretched before me upou a chair, eyeing the circular clouds that 
fantastically vrcavcd themselves into various unstudied devices, as 
they arose from the tip of my ignited cigar, or were expelled from 
my active lips. I sat looking at them, 1 say, but 1 did not see 
them. They assumed the appearance of slight and almost imper- 
ceptible curtains hanging between Ecnjamin Bobbin as he was, 
and iieujaniin Bobbin, Esq., as my fancy painted him — I saw the 
gentleman distinctly, and with such nn agreeable subject for con- 
templaliou, huiv cau it possibly be supposed that 1 could waste 
a thought upou the smoke ? Yes, there he wtis, looking all that 
a man should look in my mind's eye; a Itothschild on the 
Exchuuijei i\ Hudsou amongst the railways; a Lconidas amid liis 
Spartans; a Quintus Curtius, pro bano publico ; a Cicero in the 
Senate ; n Crichton in ordinary ; and last, not least, an Adonis. 
But how vaiu are day dreams ! they are the most unsubatautial 
bubbles tlmt Folly blows ; a spider's web is nn iron net in com- 
parison to them : a breath will break the one, a thought will 
disperse tho other. Well, as 1 before stated, I was thus agree- 
ably and unprofitably employed with the incorporeal things that 
came like shadows, so departed ; but, alas ! 

The lovclipst Hay that e'er shone had an cndjnj; ! 

Bnslil Hope fiules in time, iiij cm clucr u\ no mnre ; 
So my tweet drt«ni.<t u'itc l>mk(-n. m thp-jie wor(3» were apokra 

Too roughly by IJoo:s — " Here "• ilie 'bus at the door ! " 

I did not require the " 'Bus," but felt considerably annoyed 
at my sudden transition from the pagodas of Chimera into the 
mundane homes of common sense. 1 had been very uncere- 
moniously disturbed, and considered myself the more iiggricved, 
inasmuch as " the unsubstantial pageant" had faded, and left 
" not a rack behind." 

Self- com munioD had no further charms for me, so I strolled 
I^urcly into the commercial room, where some ten or twelr^ 



grnitlemcu were vnrioiislr employed. Rome ircrc writing, others 
reading ; nod a few testing the merits of the tea*pot ; a little group 
en<;&^cd in a low convenatioti; whilst my pluLhoretic Milesian 
friend, in the society of Mr. Lomer and a tumbler of whiskey- 

Iiuneh, wns mnking certain audible remarks, cdletl forth by the 
eading nrticle in the newspaper he held iu his hand, wliieh made 
the aubjcet of expntriiition it-* theme, and treated especially of the 
nitration or exodus of the finest peasantry in the world, from 
that fertile island, 

" Oroau glorious, nnd free, 
Vutl flower of Iho earth oiid lint ijem of llie sen." 

It waa the first time we hHd met since lust night, so he shook 
mc warmly by the hand, asked me bow I felt, and whether the 
day's espLTicnce had proved satisfactory. 

I thanked him for his kind enquiry, and gave him to under- 
stand that 1 had no right to comptaia. 

" Uf course notj" he said, laying down the paper, " there is no 
use whatever in repining — I nnver do. Tx-ave that course to 
cerrous women and decided fools. M'iso men. when difilcultics 
confrout them, push on nnd conquer — weak minds become di&- 
heartened — gnxe at each obstacle, until what was before a mite 
appears a mountain, or else sit down and groan themselves into 
Btupidityt As &r ns 1 am royacti' concerned/' (he continued with 
greater eoei^y,) " 1 could prefer atojiping up every croTico in my 
bcd-chamlicr, and Ivin^ down to sleep with clmrtTonl burning 
beside mv pillow — to doing as I have seen some men do — npbraid- 
ing thvuiaulvcs fur faults that arc only imaginary, nud railing at 
the cvila which foresight could not have evaded, or experienod 

At tliis juncture our ti'te-a-tfte wns interrupted by Mr. Lomcr, 
who asked Mr. Kiordan wliethcr be felt disposed to delight tho 
brethren with one of the many stories for which he was so widely 

" My dear friend," said the individual addressed, " my name is 
Myles Riordan, that everybody knows, and my greatest delight 
is in being enabled to please the friends, amongst whom fortune, 
and the chances of the road, may cast me, and that every one 
ought to know, therefore stand not on ceremony, but command 
me. If yon require an anecdote to senson your brandy, my 
memory is at your scn-icc." 

"Did you say memory, or invention, Riordan?" asked an 
elderly gentleman with a amilc on his red face, and white hair 
fringing his bald scalp. 

" Memory, Mr. Hodge, memory. And now I'm rcaHy; are 
you all charged and all attention 7 I'D tell yon of a ghost" 



FROM 179a TO I8iy. 

Tub great achicrctncats of Wellington in ihc Peninsula, with 
the unpai-allf!ed tcnuinatiou of H'aterluv, sland so boldlv tbrward 
on the canvas of hision", that they cast unduly into ihc back- 
ground many imporlant events which preceded and accompanied 
that period. Yet a clear undei>landJny uf these is ucct-ssary to 
connect the chain of which they formed subordinate liutiH. Much 
Toluable information on several points is supplied in a volume 
recently put forth by Sir Henry Bimbury,* an officer of high rank 
and considerable experience, both in the militar\- and diplomatic 
branches of public service. "His name and well-knotvn abilities 
are a sufficient gaarantue for the souudncss o( his opinions, which 
be delivers feartcs'^iy bulh as regards the men and the measures 
which fall within the scope of his narrative. A pemsal of lh«8« 
pazcs will again force upon ds the lamentable conviction that the 
mighty encnpes of Eiiglaud have often been frittered away by the 
folly of minUtcrx and the incompetence of ill-selected comman- 
ders, it was not until we had paid dearly for experience that we 
got into the right track, and discovered the pri)))ei- itialcrials for 
smoothing the road. The author, in a preface, expcesses his 
regret that truth compels him to subtract Hnuething' from ths 
reputation of Hcveral brave but over-rated men; and adds, with 
justice, that he could not show Ihc real causes of failure without 
UDvuUIng the wcakues&es of these indi%-iduaU. This is on» of the 
moKt painful duties of tho historian ; but there is no reason why 
he should Blirink from it, if he is couviuccd that Ins vicns are cor- 
rect, and he can show souud evidence in tfaoc support. False 
delicacy, undue partiality, or onc-sidcd information, have so 
biassed the opinions of many early biographers and chroniclers, 
that half Um business of a uiodcm writer consists in correcting 
their mis-Blatcinents, and in ninnowing out groins of fact from 
bushels ol" surrounding exaggeration. Tile stem necessity of tell- 
ing the uliolt; trntb, and nothing but the truth, was a leading 
IM0OD avowed by the Duke of Wellington fur not writing his own 
nwninirs. He felt disinclined to unsettle opinions which had long 
been fonued respecting particular events, and the leading actors in 
them. We have lately had an authentic account of the first cam- 
paigns; of the British troops in the IjOW Countiies, in 1794-5, 
from the late Sir 11. Calvert. The second expedidou for tlie 
recovery of Holland in 1709, is now faithfully recorded by Sir H. 
Bunbury. It was even more disastrous tlian the first, and ended 
in a convention, instead of a long circuitous march to the coast, 
which, alihough haras^og and difficult of accomplishment, was, at 

* NarraLivfS of some Pimages in llio Great Wnr icitli Fnuic. front 1799 to 
0. By Lieat^Geo. Sir Henry Bunbuty. K.C.B. London, I8A4. 




Icttt. not inf^lnrtous. In ihc last aborlivL- alletnpt^tlie means prtK 
Tided were fully adequate to the end. Wlij*, tlioii, did the eolcr- 
prise so sigualiy fail F Simply, because ire were ill-informed ts to 
the ttalo of feeling in the counLry, our plans rrcte badly com* 
btned, our troops were tnexperieaccd, and tlic commanding 
gesenls of the enemy, although not of first-rate pretension, wera 
niperior to our«. The Uu!>8ian conlingeut, luo, acted as a clog 
nther than a help, and liistinguisbcd it*^elf more by driinUeiinesa 
uid plandering ihan by hnrd and cfTectiTe fighting. The English 
and their new allie» (rAtemiAe<) unwilliDgly, and soon coaceired a 
mutual dislike and mistrust. The Duke of York vrsm merely a nomi- 
nal leader, for he could undertake nothing without the consent of 
a council of war — an ordination of Messrs. Pitt and Dundas, 
which sbowetl that they placed little rebance on the abilities of 
their own elected commiuider, and were determined to reduce him 
to a cypher, wliile they nulUhed llie chances of success. It is an 
ohl and true saying amongst suidtcri!, that a council of var never 
fights. Great generalu in difficulties usually extricate thentselres 
by their own »agacily or hardihood^ and seldom seek saftfly in tha 
multitude of counsellors. When Sir John Moore, at Curunna, 
without his ships, and in presence of a superior enemy, deter- 
mined to accept battle, he called his subordinate generals together, 
not to listen to their opinions^ but to impart his own ; and when 
some ventured to propose negotiation, he rejected the nlteniatire 
witli disdain. The Duke of S'ork proved himself an admirablo 
home commander-in-chief. He brought the army to a high ntate 
of efficiency, was kind and amiable in temper, beloved of hist 
penwnal fiieuds, zealous in his duties, and brave to excess ; but 
candour must admit that lio lacked the quick executive qualities 
which turn the tide of battle, the varied resources and prompt de- 
cision which influence the fate of a campaign. Sir H. Buuburx 
draws his character, an<l those of his associated council, with 
dcaraesa and impartiality. His portrait of Sir Halph Abcrcrombj 
is graphically sketched, and presents the good and gallant reterau 
to the life :— 

" The general was a little too old for hard service, and he wqa 
extremely uear*sighted. AlloMring for these defects of nature, 
Abercrond)ie was a noble chieftain. Mild in manner, resolute in 
mind, frank, nnasfiuming, just, inflexible in wliat he deemed to be 
right, valiant as the Cid, liberal and loyal as tbe prowest of Ulack 
Edward's knights. An honest, fearless, straight forward man ; and 
withal sagacious and well-skilled in hi^ business as a soldier. As 
he looked out from under his thick, shaggir' eyebrows, be gave one 
the idea of a vcrr good-natured lion; and he was respected and 
beloved by all who served under his command." 

With equal fidelity he give-s us Sir David Dimdas, remembered 
by the present gentraiion as iho author of the old military ttrst- 
book, much of which is now exploded ; a manual perpetutiUy 
quoted and commeuteti on ut mess-tabU-s duriug llie last war, not 
often applied to practice, and very sparingly understood. Each 
of the eighteen nianceuTres was a pons a«iJiortnn, which, pains- 


taking colonels and majors stumbled at, and seldom surmounted. 
Our sen-ice requires something more clear and concise, instead of 
the ponderous volume still in use, which would be well exchanged 
for such an abridgment as that of Prussia, scarcely equalling the 
bulk of a monthly army list. Simplicity and celerity are the great 
desiderata of all military movements. Dundas was a stiff, pe- 
dantic soldier, who had lisen from an inferior position. During 
the temporary retirement of the Duke of York in 1809, arising 
from the inquiry demanded by Colonel AVardle, Dundas filled the 
office of commandor-in-chief as a sort of locum tenens, and gave 
great disgust to the junior regimental officers of the army by con- 
demning them to wear fringe epaulettes, and long cloth gaiters, 
with some hundred and twenty buttons to each, after the fashion 
of the un picturesque-looking gentlemen in West's " Death of 
General Wolfe." Mad he reigned long enough, he would inevita- 
bly have restored the powder and pigtails. 

The military character of England, which had sunk to a low ebb, 
by the failure of our continental enterprises in 17941 and 1799,rose 
again with the better-planned expedition to Egvpt,.and the battle 
of Alexandria in 1801. In the short space of two years a rapid 
advance had been made in the organisation of the army, and its 
capability of undertaking great operations. Our soldiers con- 
quered tried veterans in a fair field, and proved what they 
were capable of doing when well commanded. The landing at 
Aboukir on the Stli of March, and the general action of the 2Ist, 
were evidences of bravery and skill combined, which surprised 
continental Knropc, and inaugurated with a good omen the pro- 
spective glories of the next twelve years. The Egyptian campaign 
was entered on with smaller means than the service required, and 
on a very diminished estimate of the French forces, but the result 
realised all expectations, although the English commander-in-chief 
was killed, and his successor. General Hutchinson, was so unpo- 
pular, that many of the officers next in rank caballed against him, 
and opposed his measures almost to the point of direct mutiny. 
Sir H. Uunbury was not engaged personally in this service, but he 
has gathered some new and interesting particulars, from conversa- 
tions with officers of high character who were there, and which are 
not to bo found in the quarto volumes of Sir Robert Wilson and 
Major Walsh. Unhappily, the glorious memories associated with 
Egypt in 1801, were tarnished by the subsequent disasters of 1807. 
Those arc related in this volume without prejudice or concealment, 
and the blame is laid on the shoulders justly entitled to bear ihe 
unetivialjle load. The battle of Maida, fought in Lower Calabria, 
on tliu 4th July, 1806, was one of the most brilliant affairs of the 
war, and although unimportant in political results, proved of great 
permanent value in establishing the character of the British troops. 
Sir 11. Bunhury shows how this impromptu victory might have 
been turned to better account, and thinks little of Sir John Stuart's 
generalship, cither in the action itself, or in the subsequent opera- 
tionH. IJnt if the English commander was not exactly Hannibal 
" Wellington, neither was his opponent Regnier, Turenne, or Na- 



poleon. With a superior force, he niiQeretl himself tu be sonndlf 
beaten ; and as if by a ruiributivc (aUility, llio victora were le<i by ihei 
vrry officer whom, in liis account of ihe ^^g^■ptian campniKn, Reg-1 
nier had spoken slightingly of, a» a very coinnion-place individual, 
without mark or ability. Stimrt at Alexandria commanded the 
Foroi^ Hrigade, vhich bore a distinguished share in that hard 
fight, and was brought into action with »kiU and valour, at a very 
critical moment. Sttiart contributed much to the victory of the, 
English, while the inactivity of Rej,Tiicr, «ith the strongest division- 
of the enemy, materially co-operaled in the deleat of the J-'rench 
array. We never could make out why Kegnier was so long ac- 
counted a man of tideni, and how he obtained so many opportuni-j 
ties of proving the contrary. At Sabugnl in Portugal, on the re-j 
treat of Massena in 1811, he cominitte<t greater errors than akj 
Maidn, and handled hii) mumtrs so unxkilfnlly that he lost fifieeai 
hundred men in nn action, aj^ninKt incalculably inferior numbers,] 
which liord WelliiiLiton justly dchif^ualed as one of tiie most glori- 
ous that llriiish tr(K>p5> had ever been engaged in. But Kegnier wa*^ 
a scholar, a man of science, and an able penman. The writer of 
this notice being once in conversation witlt a French othcer on Lbo 
events here alluded to, the latter remarked, "Ma foi, Monsieur,j 
quant an General Regoier, cVsl absoliinient une cncyclopOdie am-j 
bulante !" — wliich piovcs that a walking polyglot dictiunary may-1 
be a very poor executive general. 

From 1800 to 1810 Sir II. Bunburj- fdled llie important post ol 
Quarter- Master-General in the Mc<)ilerranean, which brought him 
in immediate contact wilh the leading authorities, nnd cnahU-d him 
to acquire the most correct information on all their plans und pro- 
ceeding". This portion ol his narrative is thus invested with doiibia, 
interest, and even where his opinions may not be implicitly re-' 
ceived and acknowltMlgcd, the fncts to which they allude are faith- 
fully represented. Sir Sidney Suiilh bore an important ])art in 
some of thei^e transactions. His suci^s^fut defence of Acre, it 
which he, for the 6rst time, showed that Napoleon might be 
checked, established his reputation, an<l many thmight him a 
second Xclson — an opinion in which the gallant ofticnr liiniNcU 
warmly parlieipated. Rut, though infntilcly intrepid and fond of 
fighting, cither by land or sea, he lucked the profound i^ngneity 
and couiprcliensirc genius of England's greatest iidmiral ; he conl'd 
carry a ship anywhere, and bring her bark again, hot it woidd 
have been dangerous to intrust him with a fleet. Ho was over- 
looded with courage, but he wanted ballast. His life and ad- 
ventures have been expanded into volnmrs, yet the pith of bis 
cliaracler in well condensed by Sir If. Biinbury, in a few «igorous 
seutincrs, " Sir Sidney," says he, " was an enlliusiast, always (tant- 
ing for distinction ; re Ktlessly active, hut desultory in his views; 
extravagantly vain ; daring, quick-sighted, aud fertile in those 
resources which beSt a partisan leader ; but he possessed no great'^, 
depth of judgment, nor any fixity of purpose, save tliat of per* 
snailin^ wuukind. a.s he \\:kh fully persuaded himself, that Sidno] 
Suiiib w;is the most brilliant of ehuvaliers. Let me not, in expos. 

VOL. XXI v:. I 



inj^ this Lm\'e maa's foibles, omit to add thai he was kind-tcmpttred, 
gcnorous, and as agreeable as a man can be supposed lo be who is 
always talking of hinMclf." Sir John Moore and itie victor of 
Maida are contrasted as follon'i^. Those 'vrho remember, and wero 
personally acquainted witli, both, will recognise the peculiar poinia 
of disUucUon between two leaders who had little in coniuion. 
** Ercry quality in Moore was real, solid, and unbending ; in Stuart 
all nrasflighty andKU|H!rficial,tlioiigh therowosagood deal of origi- 
nal cleverness. The tbrmer was penetrating, reflecting, and, though 
his miuiner was siu};iilarly agreeable lo those whom be liked, to 
those whom ho did not hold in esteem bis bearing was lusrere; 
while Stuart was vain, frivolous, and sarcastic." 

Of all the mistakes perpetrated by the IJtilish cabinet, in their 
ill-judged liberality at the close of the war, perhaps the grcatt^C 
was the evacuation of Sicily, and the sun-ender of that fine 
inland to tliu cfiete monarchy of Naples. A country which might 
by this timfihave been one of Kngluiid's noblest outposts, rich and 
happv in itself, full of resources, nnd capable of supporting a. 
quailiuplud population, has been condemned to remain an euslaved 
appanage of ttiu most ignorant and bigoted tyranny in Kuropc. 
Assuredly we have no cause to love or rcKpecc the Bourbons of 
Naples. Queen Caroliue, of that bou»e, hated the Luglish, and 
planned a second Sicilian Vespeii, for their csjwcial hvucfit. It 
was no fault of hers that the benerolent plot exploded without 
mischief. That wo cared little for ihuir preleusions was evidenced 
hy the recognition of King Joachim in 1814. That brilliant 
ftoldicr might have continued to reign iu fair Parthenopc, but for 
his owu madut'As, which ended iu the fusillade at Pizza. The 
SicUions have more innate courage than Uie Neapolitans, and 
would l>cat them now Kingle-handud, if they were disciplined and 
commitndt-d by Knglish olhcers- Murat commenced his reign iu 
Naples well, by the taking of Capti; a dashing exploit, which 
reflected small cre<lit on the naviil supcriurily of England. 
Although the Mitltcse regiutcnt ran away, it was iraposftiule to 
suppose that none of our cruising men of war would arrive iu 
time to cut otT and capture Lnmurquc and his three thousand 
brave grenadiers. The place wa» uf trilling value in itself, bat 
the moral utl'ect uf luMiu); a maritimo post told diHudrautagcously 
for Kngland, while it materially euhaiiL-c-d the reputation of the 
new monarch. The expedition to the l^ay of Naples iu 1809, 
which pruduGcd no effect beyond the temporary occupation of 
Iscliia and Procida, ought certainly to have restored Capri to us, 
as s permanent trophy. Tlie little island was an eye which looked 
directly into Naples, aud laid open all that was going on ihcru, 
while it pcr[>ctually reminded tin- Nea{K)litaus of tlieii uaval impo- 
tence at sea. A wing of a British regiment would have made il 
secttrc ; seven hundred Mfdtese produced its loss. Colonel (after- 
wards Sir Hudson) Lowe has been unjustly blamed fot giving up a 
post, which he defended ably under the circum>itauc«s,and which 
ought to have been relieved. But he has no right to be held reapoa- 
'Sle for the cmiis of his superiors. As if in retuit for the demon- 

tion ftgainst his capital, Murat, in 1610, assembled a large force 



lor the invasion of Sicily, ur«ed by tlie rei>eated remonstrances of 
Napuk'Oii, who said to his bruth^r-in-law, " ( t.em\ yuu tri>()|iti, go 
and drive out the Enf^lisli, and win the otlicr half of your king- 
dom for yoursdf." The preparations on both sides made tho 
eunimcr a very lively one in the Straits uf Messina. Daily 
combats between the gunboats became as common as ordinary 
field days, zuid the opposite batteries exchanf;:cd long shots, by 
which some brare men were killed. The Knylish bivouacked on 
the sand every night for two or ihroo months, and marched back 
to their cantonments soon after simrise. At lenglh, uii the 17tfa of 
September, an abortive attempt was made, to Uie southward of Mes- 
sina, which ended in tlie capture of a CoTKican battalion, and ao 
evaporated King Joachim's dream of tlie contiuest of Siiily. 
Had he landed his whole force, iiitctead of a weak detachment, he 
and they would inevitably have been captured ; for we had at 
least 15,0UO good Iirtti»h troops to comlort tiim, well pogtcd, full 
of courage and cunfiduuce, and the peo[>Ii; itf the country decliircd 
enlluisiastically in our favour. The ships nf war would have cut off 
his ratreat, and by refraining from the hazard, he spared the arras 
of France a disaster which would have equalled too capitulation 
of Baylen. Such was the poor conclusiou of much boasting 
and preparation, and thenceforward Murat, until sumniuued to 
join the grand Impeiial army, on the invasiou of Russia, contiued 
hiinscir to the suppression of the brigands and swanuing insur- 
gents in the two Calabrias. Throughout this domestic war of exter- 
mination, superintended by GeucriJ Manhix, a man of unrelenting 
cruelly, acu of batbarit}* were committed on all sides, to which 
the hislor}- of the civili^d world affui-ds ih> paraJkt, except in 
the proceedings of the Spanish invaders during their subjugation 
of Mexico and Peru. Tlie evidence rests on the very uuexcep- 
tiouable authority of Collctta, in his blended character of historian 
and minister of war. The name and popularity of >[nrat were 
thus indelibly injured in the upinitm and regard of hts new 
subjects; for though by nature he »as personally averse to 
cnieltv, he Buffered Uiis course to bo pursued under lits authority, 
while tlie atrocious particulars wore in all [irobabilily concealed 
Irom his knowledge. Many of these Calabriau banditti escaped 
into Sicily, and enlistctl in the "Free Coqis," und^r Britifili pay 
and uniform. Thoy became tolerably good soldiers according to 
their natural gifts, and acquired something like discipline ; but 
ther were ever prone to handle the stiletto on slight provixratiim, 
and gave incessant employment to the provosl-martial and judge- 
advocate- general. As skiruiishers they were useful, but iu lino 
they counted fur nothing. Wlien Murat abandoned all idea of an 
attack on Sicily, and drew olT his armament, a large portion of 
the English garrison of the island U'caine available for action in 
Catalonia^ and on the south coast uf Spain, where they did some- 
thing a» a diversion, and would have done nnich more, biid they 
not been clogged by ineflicieDt commBndor&. In studying the 
past with reference to the future, it is ever desirable to remember 
that moTV proBt may be extracted from faihire tliati success, if we 
look buluw the surface and search deeply for true causes. 


TaziR History — Past axd P«t8ENT. 


On the 15th of May, 1800, Geor^ the Tiiird commanded the 
performances nt Driiry I^ane, wliiiili comprisnd tlic comt^dv of 
"She WonKl and She Would Not/* nnd the farftc of "The Hu- 
mouriBt." The Sovereiga had ju«t entered the house, and waa 
bowin;; in tifknoirled^rnciit of his cordial reception, when a pistol 
■wan raised by James HadHchl (stcncrally termed Hatfield), iti the 
diriretion of the roysU l>ii\. The movumcnts of tlic miscreant 

:"were fortnnntcly observed hy a gcntlcmati, irhn instantly seized 
his arm, by wliich means the weapon heenme elevated, and the 
char|;e lodged in the roof of the box. Hadfield died in Bcthlcm 
llospitnl, OD the S3rd of Jannary, 1841, having hocn incarcerated 
Upwjirds of forty yeiir*. 

About thi8 period (season 1801-2), Drury Lane boasted of «i 
very effective company, including t(vcntr-five mnlc pcrformrr«,| 
whose weekly salaries amounted to 2o5/. 14»., and twenty ladies,! 
who rcccivctl weekly Ifi?/!. 10*. This was exclusive of salaries' 
under 3/. John Kcmblc, as actor and mauagcr, receitcd ivcekly* 
56/. l-ls.', John BnTiiiistcr, 17/.; King, \Gl.; Pope, 13/.; Alichael 
Kelly, 16/.; Snoit, 12/.; Dowton, «/.; Charles Kcmbln, 10/.; 
Grimnldi, ■!■/.; Mrs. Jordan (the higli priestess of Thalia), 31/. 10*.; 
Mrs. Crouch, I-l/.; Mrs. Mountain, 12/,; Mrs, Illand, 12/.; Miss 
Decamp (Mrs. C. Kembic), 12/.; Miss Melton, 5/.; Miss Tyrer 
(Mrs. Listen, still living), Til. The star system — that rutu of the 
Bta|;c— MBS unknown in these days. 

The new and splendid theatre saw not its fifteenth birthday; , 
having fallen a rictim to the dcvouriug element on the Slth. 
of February, 1809, — five months only after its rival (Covcnt 
Garden] had experienced a similar calamity. A dinner had that 
evening been given to the principal performers and officers of the 

ithoiitrc by Mr. Richard Wilson, at his house in Lincoln's Ian 
Fields, and about eleven o'clock the toast was given — " Prosperity 
and success to Diury Lane Theatre." Tlie honours were being 
done by the assembkd guests, ivheu ^Iis3 Wilson rushed suddenly 
into the room and announced that the theatre was in flames ! 
Lincoln's Inn Fields was completely illuminated; the flames 

; aprcad from Drury Lane to Brydgcs Street, forming a pillar of 
fire about four hundred and fifty feet lu breadth, "arching the 
horizon like a fiery cloud." Sheridan was in the House of Com- 
mons at the time, taking a prominent part iu the debate. On the 
membei's becoming acquaiuted with the couthigration, it was 
moved that the House should ndjuurn, in compliment to the feeU 
s of Mr. Sheridan ; but that gentleman declined the honour, 


rcmnrkinK thnt "public duty ought to precede all private interest." 
The accident ia supposed to have origiimtcd in the carelessnesa of 
aoine plumbers, who b«d a fire in the theatre whilst effecting 
repairs. It bcin^ n Friday in Lent there was no ]icrforninnco 
that evening. The house was insured to the amount of 35,0O(W.; 
the originiil cost of its erection was 129,000/. The burut-out 
eonipimy played for six nights at the Opera Hoiute, and then went 
to the Lyceum.* 

Fhoonix-like the house again rose from the fire, and opened its 
doors to the pubhc on the 10th of October, 1810, when" Hamlet" 
and the "Devil to Pay" were the pieces represented. To tig- 
nalise tlie opening night, the coiuuiittec of manajcemeut adver- 
tised for an address to be then delivered. Forty-three aspirants 
entered the poetic arena, anxious to hare their names honoured 
with a station — 

*■ "Mid burds of old, immortal loni of praise." 

Of this uutubcr nil fitileil in reiicbing the standard raised by the 
committee, and the required composition Wii« supplied by Jx>rd 
Byron. This circumstance led to the '* Kcjcctcd AddresBt's" of 
Horace iind James Smith, a production iuimitabic lu iU way; 
though flung among the laughing crowd as a mere " squib," it 
enjoyed n sparkling celebrity tor vurj- many years. The receipt! of 
(he Dew house for the first four ycar& were as fuUows : — 
First year . . .* . je79,ai5 It 

Second year . . . 6S,38i) 3 _ 

Third vear .... 61,585 8 
Fourth year . . . 49,58G 17 

The year 18] t was rendered memorable in the historj* of this 
theatre, the 2Gth of January having intrndnecd I'lilmund Kcnn 
upon its hoards. Afker one hundred and thirty-five nights of 
continued loss, the receipts rose on the uigbts of that tragedian's 
pcrrormaucc to an average of £500 Qa. The only additional ex* 
pense incurred was Kenn's salary, and the theatre must have 
cleared (hat seiisou by his services upwards of .£20,(X)0. 

In 1822 iraporinnt alterations were suggested in this, the pre- 
sent theatre, and the proposed plans were submitted to His 
Mi^csty George the Fourth un the ;i:2nd of July in that year, the 
tovereign minutely examining and expressing his approval of tiic 
vtme. From that period to the present, Drury Lane has encoun- 
tered mauy vicissitudes, and those who have undertaken its cuu- 
trol have generally quilted it for the bankruptcy court. Ellistou 

* Dninr Lsdf, previous to Its destruction, was calculated to contAiu, in aum- 
ben uid mont'^. «» rnUoirii : — 

WI)ol« range of t>ose*— 1888. st Ot. Od., 648/. ar. Od. 
Tlw pit . . 800. .. it. M.. 140 

Pint gollcry . . 875. „ 2*. Od., 8" I» U 

Upper pllery . 306, „ U. Qd., lA 6 

Mil Money, 771/. 6t. <M. 



ctpcuded £32,000 upon the property, and mbnrtinpntly foiled; 
Price, Alexnudcr Lee, HamnKjud, iiuuD, aud AadersoD, evpc- 
rienoecl a simibr faU^ whiUt CapUiu Vulhill is snid to hare diiui- 
nished on its Hccount a private fortune to tlic extent of j630,000. 
Mr. Macrcfldy maaaged the house for two seasons (1841-43)^ 
but retired with a loss; and during Mr. Anderson's lesseeship 
(leasoDs 1849-50, 1&50>51) the house was open 232 nights, the 
money taken beitig jtS'l.OGl l-l*., or less than i'108 per ni{;lit, hy 
which a loss of nearly £-U) per ni^ht was incurred throughout the 
two seasons. The engagement of Mr. Brooke, however, and oome 
recent operatic perfomi&uces, have preseuted to the house a atorfc- 
ling novelty— crowded benches] 

Omitting further notice of the Cockpit aod the Plioenlx, * 
suniuinr}' is here appended of the several dimmatic structures 
which have graced Drurj' Lane : — 

The first was opened April 8, 1663, and was destroyed by fire 
on the nth of January, 1671. 

The second (Garrick's) was opened March 26, 167*, and finnllf 
closed its doors on the 4th of June, 1791, being considered 
unsafe, and likewise too small for the wants of an incretuting 

The third was o|»ciicd April 21, 1794, and was destroyed by 
fire on the 24th of February, 1809. 

The present house (the fourth) was opened October 10, 1810, 
the architect being Bc^jamin^Vyatt; hut in 1822 the interior irns 
remodelled, from designs furuislied by the late Samuel Bcjuslcy, 
Drury Lane, it will thus be seen, has long been associated uith 
the drama, cherishing the art in irs nouniide glory, and often in 
solitude mourning its decay. In the time of Shakspere the best 
productions of the second-rate dmmatists were brought forward at 
the temple even then to be found in its locality; the Bestoration 
came, and huked with tbis »>pot is the histrionic lustre of the 
period. The pluys of Beaumont and Fletcher and of Ben Jousou 
now enjoyed their popularity here, iu compaDionship with thos-e of 
I>n'dcu, Lec> and Utway ; and here, too, came Comedy, escorted 
by ^yehcrley, Congrevc, Farquhar, and Vanbrugb — must of those 
writers pi-e»euliug to Drury Lane their choicest productions. 
Blended with the annnts of this theatre are the names of IIa^^ 
Mohun, Lacy, Nell Gwynn, Cibber, Wilks, Booth, Mrs. Barry, 
Mrs. Uracegirdle; and, iu later times, those of Garrick, Sheri- 
dan, KfuibJc, the Siddouti', Mrs. Jordan, Kdmmul Kcan, and 
Macrcady. But too often has poor old Drury heen desolate 
— her linrp unstrung. Her walls, which once gave back aa 
echo of the noblest wit and aeulimeut that ever emanated from 
humnii minds, have either mourned over the cnldneia of their 
neglect, or hare shuddered at their desecration — Shakspere and 
HwMiinfccr have at times been supplanted by Van Amburgh and 
Young lleruandex, 

" And brutes have led where QsRick trod." 




Reference lias been made to ihc patents of Charles the Second. 
Il waB ou tlie 2Ui of August, 1660, that Lliat sovemgn granted lo 
Sir William Davenaat and his " irusly and weH-beloved Tliomaa 

' Killigrcv, Esq.," a patent to erect two companies of players. This 
va» subsequently revoked, nnd on the 15lh nf January, Irtfi'J, 
letters ])aleut were issued to Davcnant, and on the enduing '25lh of 

[April to Eilligrenr, for the establishment of two diiitinct cnmpaniesa 
which were accordingly formed and known as the "King'g** and 
the " Duke's." The former located in I>niry-Iano, whilst the 
latter pitched their tent iu Lincoln's Inn Fields. Sir William 
I)avciiuiit commenced proci-cdings at the Duke's Theatre (situate 
in (be locality under notice] in lO&i, with his own play uf thft 
"Siege of Rhodes," the performance Iwing witnessed ny Charley] 
the Second and his Court. Downcs, the cbroatcler of the fortune&f 
of this houtc, otHciated on the opening night as prompter ; be had . 
been appointed to perform tlie pari of Wii/y, but, overcome by thai 
royal prcseuct;, he ** broke down," and was thus, as he himself ob- 
serves, " for ever spoilt for being an actor." The play ran Iwelva 
nights, and was then succeeded by "The Witts" of the same' 
author. But the glory of this house, at this early period, nas thoi 
Hamlet of Botlerton, who, as an actor, was (ac<'ording to Cibber) 
vhat Shatspere was as a writer. '* Romeo and Juliet," " Twelfth i 
Kight," *• Henry iho Eighth," Webster's " Duchess of Malfi," and; 
oilier plays, were succes-sfully brought funrard ; but the plague 
ifiSa interrupted all dramatic cntcrlninments, and the Dnbe'AJ 
Theatre remained clnsed until the Christmas succeeding the '* great.] 
Btc^ when the company recommeuced their performances M'iUl 
Lord Orrery's play of " Mnslapba." In 1671, con.«ideiahle incon- 
tenionce having been experienced from the snmllncss of the house, 
&c., tlic Duke's company removed to the nvw theatre iu Dorset 
Ganlciiti, and thus ended the first cpoeli of the Lincoln's Inn Fields 

In lflS2 the holders of the two patents joined their interesti| 
when the Duke's company became incorporaied,and the "Thcat 
Royal'' (Drury Lane) was the sole place for dramatic entertait 
meuts. A schism subsequently arose between the patentee as 

'the principal performers, which ended in the laller ubluning 
licence for themselves ; and on the 30th of .April, ]60.'i, lliey opi-ncd 
a UC1V llicatie in Lincoln's Inn Fields, ^vitli the firnt represent Jtioa 
of the comedy of "Love for Love," — the licence being granted by 
King Williftiii to Congrcve, Bctlcrtou, ?*lrs, Bracegirdle, und Mrs. 
Barr^'.* This theatre, which had been rebuilt, was situate in the 
Tonnis-Cuuit in Portugal-row. Succebs appears lo have attended 
the speculation for a lime ; so much so, tliat a number of iuhabitanls. 
uf Lincoln's luu Fields, finding themselves incommoded by Uie 

* To Urs. Barry wu awwdfd ibe firti ** twnefit** on K>curd. in iho t«>go of 
Jamea lh« Second, the indu^cncr being gnuttcd in cun^idrriLUoD of her cttra* 
cnttinai^' merit. With thEs hdy the larour rnied until aArr tlic divMon of iha 
COmpSDV tn 1695, nt which time the p«ait)tr<-s wren- rrduord lo [lar their oelon 
half in gftod wnrdi, and half in resdjr money, in this pr^CBrious condition, some 
compviiudcil Iwr ibeir Biiean by taking the dunce ol u bcoeftt play. 



concourse of coaches wliich the playhouse dren* together, had re- 
course to the law to remedy tho in convenience. In 1<}^7, Cotigrere 
gave to the company his " Mourning Bride,'* ihc proIog:uc to which 
was spoken by Betleilon, and thy upilugiie by Mrs. IJracegirdle. 
In a fen- yt-ars, liuwcvcr, thi; iirofiia aming from this ilieatro were 
vcvy insignificant — it once more became deserted, and thus closed 
its second epoch. 

Upon the expulsion of the elder Rich from Drur}- Lane — re- 
ferred to in the notice of that theatre — lie employed the remainder 
of hiH life in rebuilding the house in Lincoln's Inn Fields ; buL he 
lived not to see the completion nf bis plau^, and the theatre was 
opened by his son »n the 18lh of December, 1714, with the 
comedy of the "llecruitiog Officer." Comic paiituniimes were 
then introduced and rendered popular ; but the crovning star of 
this management was the " IJeggar's Opera," which was first played 
on Ihe '■iHib of January, 172S. llie popularity of this piece has 
continued to the nreseiil hour. Its original production is said tu 
have iimde " Ricti gay and Gay rich ;'* and the quiet resident* in 
Lincoln's Inn Fields were again annoyed by the crowds that 
flocked lo the iieighbourtioud. 1'lic structuro itself, in its Mvellinj; 
greatncsji, panted for more room, and the company, in 1732, re- 
moved to tlie new theatre then erected in Covenl Garden, — the 
transit uf itich frarn Lincoln's Inn Fields to that locality being 
rendered memorable by Ploganh in an aninsing satirical prinL 
From thai time the glory ofthisoIiUn lesortof the Tliespian tause 
became shadowed, aiwl the hunsc whk ticcusionally opened foi 
Tcrpfticiiorcan and other cxhibiticnti. f^ubscqiient years found tt^ 
lolally abandoned, and modern times knew it only a* the extensive 
china-wareliouse of Mr. Alderman Cupcland. Vc!i ! llie classic 
threshold of the Dukc'a Theatre— the spot associated with Con- 
grevu and Uettertoti — had fallen lhu« ignobly, and had become the 
resort of those whose thougbis wandered not to the past, but 
rather entertained the purchase of the last new dinner-service. 
Science, however, 1)118 clamied the spot, which now forms part of 
Ihc College of Surgeons. 

As illustralire of the ibiatrcs at the time of the Restoration, ft 
leaf may he borrowed from the diary of good old gossiping I'cpys,' 
who records that he visited the Dnko'sTlicaire on the lltb of May, 
1668, *'Tbe Tempest" being then and there enacted. He says — 

*' There happened one thing which vexed me ; which is, that tbe 
orange woman diil come in the pit nnd challenge me for twelve 
oranges, wliicli (she said) she delivered by my order at a late play, 
at night, in order to give to some ladies in a box, which nas 
vrholly untrue, but yet she swore it to be true. Bnt, however, I 
did deny it, and did not pay her; but, for quiet, did buy 4». worth 
of oranges of her, at tfrf. a piece." 


Of this honse there is but little to record. After patents had 
been granted by Charles the Second to Davenant and Killigrew — 
Tliculars of which have been given — the Duke's company 
ted the Cockpit, and opened tbe theatre in Lincoln's Inn 





FicWs, nfter icrcral of Uieir plays ha<l been rebearse^l at Apollie- 
carieK* Hivll. This }iluylii>u.<-u was Konn discovenMl to lie ill-ciin- 
trircd and incot)T*cnient, and Sir William Davcnant nought nul a 
new sjjot for the erection of ouo more commodiuus. Salisbury 
Cotiri, Dontet Gnrden)!,* was solcctud by him; and a ihcntrc was 
comineDccd of grealor magnificence ihan the one in Lincohi's Inn 
FielJu. The spot chosen was donblless uear lo where the VVliitc- 
friars Theatre hod once etood ; but before the coniplciion of the 
house, Davenanl died (April 17, 1668). The management of his 
property therein came into the hands of Lady Daveuanl, XJeller* 
ton, and Mr. Harris, assisted by Charles Davenaul, subsequently 
known as a politician and civil lawyer. The new honse was 
opened in Xoreinhcr, 1(171, notwithstanding the opjiosition made 
to it by the City of Luiidun. The tipiniun of the pidjlic al first 
inclined to the Kinf;'s company, then playing nt Driiry I^ne ; 
and Mr. Davenant, in Dorwt Gardens, was obliged lo have 
recourse tu what was then a novelty — he called in the assistance 
of show and sound, introducing splendid scenery, munc, singing, 
and dancing into some of the pieces represented. By these menns 
an advantage was gained over their coDipeLitors^ to which they 
were scarcely entitled by their merits. 

The preference given to the Diikc'-s company on account of 
these expensive accessories alarmed those belonging to llie rival 
house. In the endeavour tu check the progress uf the puhlic 
taste, and to divert it towanls themselves, they commenced ridi- 
culing the performances which were then so much IblloiTed. 
"Tile Tempest," " Macbeth," and " Psyche," were parodied ; but 
the alleiitpt was ineflectual, and the victory of sound and shovr 
over sense and reason was as complete as it has been in more 
modem days. Oniry Lann cnntinncd tu languiRli ; but the (rreal 
expeuKe incmred in Dorset Gardens diminished the gains of the 
leaders to such an extent that they discovered it would be for the 
mutual advantage of both companies to unite their interests. The 
junction took place in 108?, when iho Duke's com|)nuy i|uiltod 
Dorset Gardens for Drury Lane. The advantages anticipated 
from this junction were not realised; misinanagemeut alienated 
the principal performers from their allegiance, and led them, in 
169A, tu open the new theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields. 

Subsequent lo the blending of the two companies, the house 
under unltce was occasionally used by the nniled actors; but it 
suou became deivcrted. On the 'iJlh of October, 1700. the theatre 
WHS Opened fur the seasou with the comedy of the ''Kecruiting 
Officer," the performcm being announced a.*i '' the deserted com- 
pany of comedians of the Theatre Ittiyal." This is about the 
lasi year in which mention is mado of the *' theatre in Dorset 
G ardent.** 

■ ami 

* Salisbury Court onil Square, where tlw Du)(«*i Tlivaire stood. wa» tlioo 
COntMeritl a fniliionaWe lucalily. Drvtk'ii once rrsiilrd li^re, Hichanliuii, the 
DDveliii.tind aho )ii» printing office lirir. in wliicli he liimsrlf rompoicd the 
typr» of somp |Kirtion of tii« " I'amcln," and " CLaritsn Ilnrlowc," Oliver Gold- 
smjih bfing his " rvftder," or corrtcter of the pr«u. 


By Ghack GRrENwooD. 

CttAriKH X. 
ViitiAiitRS. — A'lesoN. — Pftr^i Palace. — Ikqvihtion. — Pout bc Oabb.^ 


— PiiA, — VovAflB PKoii LeaaaKM to Civita Vbccbu. — Bmic. — Tub 

October 37. 

Yesterday we spent in tlie palace and gardens of VerBaillts. I 
feel it as a relief lliat I am near the last hour of my last day in 
Paris, and thus may be excused from any attempt at describing tbe 
malcliless beauties of architecLnre, glories of an, and unapproach- 
able splendours of that royal wonder of the world. I fuund that 
history, romance, and poctrj- had given mc but a faint and partial 
ideaof tbc vast extent, the dazzling gorgeousnoss and magnificence^ 
of lliiB placi:. The piclurn galleries are slort'liouses of iJic If casure& 
of centuries, where every glorious srcni? in the bistorj- of France 
or the lives of her monarchs and licroefl is before you. and evcrv 
face famous or infamous in her annals looks down upon you. I 
had intense pleasure in thu« reading the splendid military and 
imperial career of Napoleon. But by for Ibe grandest historical 
pictures are those of a later era, by Horace Venict, who wiili his 
wondrcuA geniu!! has thrown a splendour around even the war in 
Algiers and the taking of Rome. 

A relief and a rest, after the bewildering richness of the palace 
and the gardens, was a visit to La Petit Trianon, the favourita 
retreat of Marie Antoinette. There is a mournful loveliness, a 
touching (^riiulude, about this little palace and its grounds, espe- 
cially at this season of the year, strangely in consonance with 
memories of its bcanUfnl and fated inistn.-Ks. Tlieru is, near the 
borders of a bcautiftil lake, a weeping willow, planted by her own 
hand — must fitting and faithful nicraorial ; and in a retired and 
lorely spot, you cumu upon the cxquisilo little hamlet, a charming 
fancy of the young queen, where the royal family often amused 
themselves by playing villagers. Marie Anloinclie was a milk- 
maid, and Jioihing could be more beautiful thou her iailerie. 

Gvooa. Noranber fi. 

Thus far towards the sercn-hilled city of pilf^intages — llius far 
in safety and ever-improving hcalih. I scoin to drink in healing 
with vvery breath of this balmy southern air — to receive strength 
bxim the beautiful earth I tread, and hope from the delicious «kies 
above mc. I begin to feel a glad confidence that the firsl great 
object of my tour is to b« fiUly attained, and that, under tlie bene- 








fieent influpoces of this genial climatp, I sliall gain ri^ur of body 
aztd elatlicitj' of spirit — sliall renew my life, and n»y joy in life. 

Tfae journey (mm Paris tv Avignon was not one of much 
ioteresL The scenery- ilnring the latter |iart was vtry tine, but 
the rainy weather prevenled our leeing it to adranlage. Otir first 
stopping- place was Cbalons, on lliu Saoiiv, a pleasautly sitiiated, 
queer and quaint town, as old as .TnliuK Ca'Kar. From Clmtnns we 
took a narrow, dirty little steamer for Lyons, which we reached at 
night and left iii the uioniiug, so hud do time to see the famoiu 
cathedral and its more famous clock. At Lyons wc IcMik the 
Rhone, on a yet narrower and dirtier stcaraer, for Avignon, stop- 
ping a ni^ht at Valence, a picturesque old town, where Napoleon 
ODce studied. The sceneiy along the Rhone, as you approach 
Avignon, is exceedingly beautiful, and the foliage at this time was 
both aoft and gorgeous in colouring. All along, the gold, crimson, 
and bronze tints of antunin were mingled with the brighlesL and 
loveliest liring green. 

Arignon, lliough a densely populated, busy town, with some 
handsome tnodeni buildings and biid^'ci:, has a quaint, gloomy, 
and pecnliar aspect. The noisome sliadows of Popiah tyranny, 
superstition, and ]>en(ecutJon scum thrown upon it yet from the 
old Papal palace and tlic prisutis of the Inquibiiiou. lieuiemlwr- 
ing well ilio vivid and powerful description given by Dickens, in 
his charming Pictures from Italy, we visited these places but 
found them completely transfomied into barracks and slore-roomSf 
scarcely a trace of their original state and purpose remaining. Y«t 
there was, in the very atmo^pherc oftlie dim, cavciuouK halt where 
the Inquisition sat to cianiino, di-lib^-ratc, and condemn, and in 
that uf tlie chamber of torture, somcihint; that sent a cold hurror 
chilling along ti'.y Veins and creeping through luy vt-n.' bunvs. The 
tower in which Kienzi whs inti>risoncd is yet standing, but in 
ruius — in truth, the wholtfpalace has an air of dreary decay and 
abhorrent abandonment. Thank God for the token ! I could but 
coumiserate the soldiers who swarmed in these gloomy barracks. 
Howerer stupid and unimaginative they look, it seems that in 
ttomiv nights they mu&t fiincy they bear the innumembl*? victims 
**of the bloody faith" shrieking under those blackened arches — 
the prayer, the sob, the vain appeal for mercy, the crack of bones 
upon the wheel, the " sharp, short civ- down ouf>tifite».'" 

After iJtu chill, foggy aftenionn, in which we beheld this gloomiest 
of all sights, wo had at Avignon two of the most glorii>U!i days 
imaginable. On the 6nit of these wc took a carriage and drove to 
the Pont de Card, a bridge built along the ^ide of an old Itoman 
aqufduct— a work stujieudous in height and sii'engl}i, but uarvel- 
touftly light, graceful, and airy in its effect. Ilie scenery about 
this noble work has a peculiar character of quiet, lonely beauty, 
and bears tim look of having been ever deserted since its grand 
conqutrors and warlike mastt-rs departed. Ou thix i;xcursiun we 
first saw ulivcs iiga> and the rich pomegranate, bursting ffith its 
crimsnn rijienesA. The second day we viniied the fountain and 
romantic haunts of Vauclose, the picturesque borne of l^etrarch. 


This is \he most peculiar, lonely, loTcly, vn\A, mclancSnly p 
}'oii could dream of in a Btormy tnidsummor night. Nolliitig c 
Biirpass lliP brauty of tliu ibiiiitaiii iiseK, wliich giisticK brightly 
and linumifully from llic base of a bare and rugged inoimtain, am' 
pours ovci- black rocks in inniiinerable fairy ca&cados. The wate 
which arc of a liring, luniinoiis green, Hcemcd jnst out for a spuci 
liolidnv. I could not reali«e thni thcv aln'ays gleamed so brightly 
and Btiiig 80 merrily ia lliat solitary place, The waves seemed 
deliriously gta%l to escape from their jmson, boncath the cold, dark 
hills, and lcn|)Dd, and laughed^ and shouted, and danced in the 

» pleasant suiisliiop, and ran iu and out of the green shadow.^ of the 
ifaore, like frolicsome children just broken away from ihc dull 
tasks and stem dominion of school. The house and gaidon, which 
tradition assigns to the divine sonneteer, are y^t in existence, but 
in a dismal state of dilnpidatinn and dirl. The iioct pilgrim to 
this shrine of genius must pass ibron^jh perils indcscribiible, and 
encoiuiter smells unimaginable, ere he can hope to pluck a sprig 
from thu old laurel troo said to have been planted by tlic grea^^ 
poet lover. ^H 

In the crcning wc ran down to Marseilles by the railway. On^^ 
party filling a carriage, with the exception of one seat, we 
Utised oun*eIves, as we approached Marseilles, by manufacturing 
Jior passenger out of our extra wraps. Stuffing an overcoat 
with &haw]s and umbrellas, we fashioned a portly httle gentlemaik^| 
whom We made to recline in a comer, gras])ing a walking-stick^^ 
and with his face shaded by a broad-brimmed hat. When the 
ticket-master came, we bad the satisfaction of seeing our foolish 
little jok(i succeed beyond our pri)udesi hones. .Mter rtrceiving 
and counting our tlckctji, he looked hard at the quiet little gcntlc- 
nian, and said, rather impatiently, " Monsieur, totre billef.^' " It^ 
dort, MoHifiettrf* said nnc of ns. So, without further cernmon|^| 
he seized the oblivions lra**eller by the arm, and shook him inE^^ 
shawls, overcoats, and umbrellas, amid uncontrollable bursts of 
langhtor on our part. The olficiid looked a litttu dark and sus- 
picious at first, and made a long and careful mortem exami- 
nation of the departed ; but, finding that lie was composed of no 
contraband articles, graciously joined tn the laugh, oidy proiestin^^ 
that somebody roust pay for ** /* pett't Afon»ietir" ^^ 

Marseilles I saw veri* little of, as I was busily engaged, for tbi^^ 
few hours I itpont there, in writing private letters, and only wiilked 
out as far as the posl-oflice. Dot I believe I missed not much, as 
there arc few sights in that city more interestint; than those a. 
stranger can have in driving or walking thntugli its busy a: " 
noisy utrects. I left France, after all, with regret ; for I like th 
people — the common people, I mean, for 1 had relations with no 
other. Carolns.*!, unreliable, cunning, extonionous, nnscrupulous, 
ignorant, and dirty, as most of them are, yet I like them ; first, 
for their inimitable, unwuariable politeness; and, next, for their 
gaiitly, their sparkling vivacity, their quick wit, their nonsense, 
tlurir vory ridiculousness. Tmlh with them is a myth, a jest, an 
obioletu idea; but the lies they tell you are generally of the m 





^altering kind — agreeable delusions, far which you feel rather 
vbli^cd lliAti (Jtherwisc ; and tliey will impose iipun you with such 
an air, tliBt ynu rcnlly arc ashamed to show proper resentment. 

We were obliged to take passage lo Genoa on a crowded and 
disagreeable KngliKh stcamur ; but as the sea was quite calm, and 
the night strikingly beautiful, wo \rcr6 happily able to remain on 
deck till very lale. I was at Ivugtli driven by ibo heavy dews ioto 
that den of gregarious disconifiirtt " the ladies' cabin," wliifre my 
fervent adjurations to tlic god of slumber were for a longtime 
baffled by the closeness of the air, and the gurrulousuess uf two 
worthy Knglish dames, who were entertaining each other with 
marvellous tales of successful and unsuccessful smuggling. One 
had had an Irish poplin torn from the sanctuary of the '* bustle" 
it&elf, by onler of " a nasty French oflicer of tlie customs ;" uhtlc 
the other had once borne off in triumph to Kugland twi-lvc yards 
of "tlic loveliest Brussels lace" in the hem of her petticoat. From 
tliis they passeil to Bubjecl»i uioro purely (UuueKtic, — govemesscst 
footmen, cooks, — and the last »ords which fell on my drowsy car 
were " goosebcrty tart" and "raspberry jam." 

The joy fully- welcomed morning came at lost, and we had a 
charming day. often passing very near the bold and beautiful 
sliore of the Mediterranean, and saw the sun set at sea in a. glory 
unapproachable by ait, lacxpressiblo by language. It was night 
ere wo reached Genoa; so wc lost the sea view uf its noble bay. 
Yet the " superb '' city was a glorious sight, seen eveo in the 
obscurity of the deepening twilight, as it rose, pile on pile of 
marble palaces, tier on tier of gleaming lights. We were soon 
able to go ou shore, where we were little delayed ut tlie custom 
houfie, on account of our passports or lu^^gagc. We arc stopping 
at the l.>ocnndn W Unlia, a fine hotel, which once was n palace, 
they say, where we have a suite of pleasant rooms in somewhero 
about the twelfth story, and are rer^' well attended, and served 
bountifully with excellent food. 

Rofnv, November 13. 

Genoa is to me, in recollection, like a gorgeous dream of grand 
palaces, old churches, splendid and strange— narrow strcels, lead- 
ing up steep acclivitieH, and down into dark hollows, lined with 
towering houses, uhose outside walls are painted more brilliantly 
and variously than interiors elsewhere— with animated and striking 
gronps of picturesque people — pale women, with sliinina; black 
liair, and long white scarfs gracefully disposed about their heads, 
and falling in light folds over neck, arms, and bosom, wnlking 
c^'crywhere about the crowded, dirty streets, as though thrimgli 
carpeted drawing-rooms, with a regal yet unconscious elegance,— 
iDen,with rich olive complexions and glossy black beards, wearing 
caps of brilliniit red. or brown, or puriile, and talking and yes- 
ticutating on llic most trifling topic, with marvellous waMe of 
pjiBsionalo enen^'V and dramatic effect; — children, hnibi-d like 
sculptured Loves', with luxuriant li»ir,brown or raven, and cliceka 
round, and red, and goldcncd^ like ripe peaches — and all these 




•peaking in a Ungaag« vroaderfaltv melodious and impresstt^, 
ftnd looking out of larg«, deep, lustrous, yet nn-lancholy eyes. 
There is to me a peculiarly snd and touching expression in these 
gnuid Italian orbs — il is half expectant, half despairing ; tire look 
of fiouls who have lost some great good, soioe priceless gtorjr, for 
which they are wishing, and wailing, and searching ctcrnally. 
You are struck by the naliTe iniclligence of these people. You 
know that many of them musl be frightfully tgooranl, but very 
few of thciH look so; ond wiih the exception of the gnides and 
prieiits, "blind leaders of the bliud,'^ none are positively stupid. 
Their grca,l eyes sonietime* reveal the dulness of intellectual 
torpor, but ncrer incapacity. The cloud is not dark and heavy 
enough wholly to hide the throbbing of the sou] stars behind. 

We spent t\vo days in wandering through the Genoese palaces, 
churches, gardens, and streets — two days of rich, norel, nn- 
mingled pleasure. The palaces themselves are rasi and noble, 
rather than beautiful; but they arc rich in fine paintings, espe- 
cially in many glorious Vandykes, The churches arc the most ^ 
magnificent and varied in their decoration I hai-c yet seen— that fl 
of the Annunciation almost blinds one with it* unveiled splendour ■ 
and elaborate gorgeunsness. In the gltmroy old Duomo arc kept 
the fannms relics of John the TJaptist — the ashes of his head, and 
one finger entire. In ti>e chapel dediciite<l to these no woman is 
allowed to enter — a regulation doiiblli-jw made in holy condom, 
niiliou of one of our sex, who excelled in a frivolous acconi)>llsb- 
ment. aud turned it to au unholy account. In tliese cburehes, 
you see at all hours a few humble worshippers telling their beads 
and crossing themselves before the various shrines. But thev are 
seldom so soundly wrapped in devotion as to be unmindful of the 
presence of slrangers, whom they curiously follow with their 
eyes, while their lips move mechanically in soulless prayer. 

From (jcnoa to Pisa we took carriages and retturini, and 
trarelled by the Cornice. The weather was delicious, and this 
journey of three days proved a long succession of glorious pic- 
tares. I had not only never seen, I had never conceirfd, any- 
thing so Inrcly and grand. Our road now lay along the shore 
of the blue .Meditcrianc^Ln ; now off in quiet, delicious valleys, 
smiling Willi ])icturesque cotU'iges, lemon and orange groves; uovr 
up and down mountains, clothud with nlivcs and pines; now over 
torrei)t4 and along dark precipices ; now* under long avenues of 
poplar, and aspen, and sycamores, festooned with vines, and past 
gardens and hedges of roses in full bloom, swoetcning the air 
with the very sweetness of paradise. And then the sunsets — 
when the splendid lights on cloud and sc-a seemed God's own 
transcendent glory made visible to man — when the very sky 
seemed to have descended and wrapped ititelf arouud the purpla 
and goldcu hills — when heavcu and earth seemed embraciug in 
light and blending in a bridal of beanty. It were the cxtremest 
folly iu me to attempt to reproduce here the vast aud glowing 
pictures of that journey— to |»our its rich sunlight or fling its 
gvand shadows aJong my jisgu — *lo blend its aolemn sea voiMtt 


«s» ^ 



and Mil pino murmuni, and gny peasant sin^^ng with llie sound of 
my worils, and to distil into my thou}»ht the rare sweetness of )t$ 
rose^. Yet I beltfre that tlie vision of those mountains and 
Tilteys H-il] never laitu from my soul — that that sunligtii will stream 
through all my future life — that that miiuc of ware and tree will 
nerpr wbolly die on my ear — that those roses will be a fragnut 
mpmoTy in raj death chambpr. 

Tb« duitffrimena of the jcMimey — the impof!ition<t of (he tW- 
tmrimi, the discomfurt of inns, and the p<*r«ecutiuns from beggars 
— I have not dwelt upon, beeaiise, haring been endured, ihey are 
80 thoroughly past, so nearly forgotten. 

At Lucca We vi»ie<l a noble old cathedral, and took a pleasant 
stroll on the city walls, and at Pisa wo spent half a day. The 
Leanioi; Tower, the Cathedral, the Baptistry, and the Campo 
Santo form the most splendid and interesting group of bnildiogs 
I bare ever soen. We ascended the tower, which certainly leans 
fearfully, and enjoyed a charming \-iew from the summit. We 
lingered long in the catliedral belore some delicious pictures by 
Andiea del Sarto, and wandered through the Cainpo Santo, where 
ihefB is Bonic fine mnntimentAl sculpture. 

From Pifta we weut by railway to Ije^hom, which we found a 
verj' bustling aiul un interesting plarc. Here, on the evening of 
the lllh, we look the French mail steamer for Civita Wcchia. 
This is a small, uncomfortable boat, and on this voyage wc found 
it, to our dismay, crowded beyond precedent. Though not a slate 
room or berth conid be had, we were obliged to lake passage by 

her, as a frieud of Miss C wotild be awaiting us at Civita 

Veccbia, lo accompany us to Rome. The first hmirs of the voyage 
flew lightly enough— the night was mild and beaniiful. We met 
aotne American fellow-passengers among wlioui was Colonel 
Marshall, of Kentucky, United States Minister to China, and had 
a pleasant chatty time on deck — where, indeed, I was disposed lo 
spend the entire night, but was overruled by my friends, who 
thought me itnprudvnt to the last degree iu Hnshing to brave such 
exposure. So, about midnight, we descended into the dining 
cabin, where mattresses 1ir<I been spread for us upon the floor. 
Alas ! not fur us alone. The place was already crowded with 
forlorn travellers— English, Americans, Germans, French, Italians 
— priests, soldiets, artists, ladies, children, couriers, and ladies* 
maids. After an immense amount of talk oud laughter, we all got 
settled in our places, which were as comfortable as circumstances 
would allow. My comj^Minions soon fell asleep, overcome by the 
WMuineas of the day — but I was kept wide and wild awaiic by the 
cloaenen of the air, incipient sea-sick nc!i^, and the novcliy and 
ludicrousuess of the scene. \i tlie atmosphere grew heavier and 
hotter, such a chorus of snoring was set up as was never before 
heard. U wa^i absolutely nmddening. Near me lay a stout gen- 
tleman, who astounded even more than he enraged me by the 
power and coiupaas of his nasal orgau. I)y bis side lay his wife, 
looking pale and haggard as from innumerable slecjiless nights. 
I ruaed myself on my elbow, and contemplated her weary ^ce. 



her sad, &)eeple»$, wanderiag e.vis, marvelliDg at her long endur- 
ance, and feeling au insane temptation to whisper to her, that, 
lihould she. at any time strangle the unfeeling monster as he lay, 
" niakiug night hideous" with his unearthly snnrc, no inlolligent 
jury would bring in a worse verdict than '* juslifial^le homicide." 
On my other side lay a lad, in that unregenorate state u'hicli .Mrs. 
Fipchin refers (o when she solemnly declares that " boys that 
snifQe never get to heaven." At length 1 gievv almost fiantic, 
and seizing all I could carry, — my caq>et hug, cloak, blanket, and 
pillows, — 1 rushed upon dec^k. At iht foot of the stairs I &unnl>h;d 
ovtT a man — for what fell purpose he was lurking theru, 1 did not 
then diviiiu. A^isunn an I could muster i^ufficicnt strength an<l 
courage, after depositing my wraps on deck, I rcUinic<l f^r my 
mattress — returnc*! to find the stranger of the stainvay *trctcbed 
out upon it, and sleeping, or feigning to sleep, profoundly. There 
vras no liulp for it, and in a sullen rage I slaggt-Tcd again to the 
deck; wlien behold ! my blanket and pillows bad bocn seized 
upon by some villanous marauder— even uiy fiac tie nuit had gone 
to some boorn whence no travelling-bag returns. My case was 
now desperate, and, going up to a brigandi&h-looking Frenchman, 
who was stretched upon a bench near by, luxuriating in a sas- 
picious superabundance of blankets and pillows, and laying my 
hand on the outermost covering, I said, in as stem and relentless 
a tone as I could i:oinuiand, " Aionsifur rVW a vioi ! The guilty 
man relinquished it at once, with a " Pardon, madame.*" I then 
made a requisition for the pillows, but could only recover ono — 
whirl], by the way, was not mine, bviL a hard little thing, wet with 
night de»% about as pleasant to rest one's head upon as would be 
a bi'ick folded in a eubbago leaf: yet i made tlie best of it — 
wmppcd ntyself stoically in my blanket, stretched myself on the 
deck, and fell a star-gazing. The sky above me was of a deep, 
delicious, soul'bi'uilderiug blue, thick sown with radiant orbs- 
heaven's canopy of state over the queenlie&t loveliuess of earth. 
The clouds were light and silvery, and assumed a thousand fair 
and fantastic shapes. One, I remember, took distinctly the form 
of a graceful woman, in the flowing Greek costume; in one hand 
she held a star, and seemed bending foi*wnrd as though trying to 
blow it out. 13ut the star was too much for her, and she finally 
blew herself away in vain altenuits at extinguishiu<; it. 

But this heavenly contemplation becomes n det-ided bore when, 
compulsory and protracted. I was jjeUing very chUl and weary, ■ 
when a Freueh tad, witli whom I had a slight acquaintance, hav- 
ing been driven by cold from the longboat, where he had gone to 
sleep, happening to pass near, recognised me, luid, horrified at my 
bedless condition, courageously jilunged into the depths of tliu 
cabin, on a nLiraiiding expedition for my bonefiL In about fivo 
minutes he returned, laden with spoil, in the shape of a mattress 
and a larye pillow, lie laughed very merrily, while un-anging 
these fur me, in telling how adroitly he had obtained them. He 
had found a stout gentleman, for whom two uiutlresM^rs had been 
spread, Bluv]>iug ou the cabin floor, and had actually succeeded in 





rolling bin) off one, which he took possession or,«tlh a pillow, era 
tbo poor man was sufliciently rousted to resist or rcumnstmto. 

It is singular, that, though I had fult a nghteoiis iudiji^iiation at 
the heinous rohi)cviM before cnmniillcd on me, I did not prolesi 
ati^ainsl this litilu canllsc3tion,Lut enjoyed the joke immensely, nnd 
my lied as well, sleeping aoiuidly oil it for several Ijour?. I was 
awakened by the rain ; but as the sea had rottf^hened, and I trss 
decidedly sick, I ilid not go below, but wrapped myself more 
cidsfly in iny blanket, nnd " endured unto ilie end." Fortunately, 
the fthoirer soon passed, and I took not the slightest cold. 

About sunrise Colonel Marshall came on deck, and natiirallf 
expceting sympathy from a eountryvvontan, he had no sooner cast 
his eyes on nie than lie begnn to pour into my ears the ator>" of 
his own peculiar hardships and wrongs. Some ntidacious brigand, 
he said, had actually stolen half of his bed and his best pillow 
from under him, as be lay in the deep unconsciousness of innocent 
sluml>er. I declare, that, in the dull gray of the early moniiug, 
the ciulliness of the late shower, the toqior of F^ubsiiUng seasick- 
ness, amid all the unspeakable forlomiiics of my sLite, I laughed 
till the tears rained do^^rn my face. 

Ailer going ilimugli tliu mere fonn of bre.ikfnf^tin.:; in a dirly inn 
at Civita Vecchia, wo set forth for Rome in iinposing stnte, in an 
enormous diligence, with mx horses and three postilion?. This 
road runs tliiough a bare, uuiiite resting, and dosulale country. 
More than ten miles from the Ktemal City we caaght a view of 
St. Peter's, looming U]i like a small mountain, and every heart 
8U>od still at the sight. It was dark ere we entered Rome, yet we 
recognized several grand landmarks crc we reached our pleasant 
bouse in ilie Corso. 

Noreint)cr 17. 

Ancient Rome, as yet, nflbcts me with a singular gloomy wonder. 
I gaze about me sadly rather than eagerly. 1 am too awestruck to 
be curious. We spent one day among the niins; and though the 
sunshine was brilliant ns that of June, and the breath of wild 
roses was afloat on the soft air, that day was to me one of shadows 
and sadness. Could all ihu Nuiisbiuc that ever streamed out of 
heavrn make festal in the mighty circle of llie Coliseum^ 
thronged, as it is, to the eye of the spirit, with dark visions of fear 
and horror, of fierce fight and deadly encounter, brutal ferocity 
an<l diahnlical cruelty ? The blood of innnmerahic martvrs seems 
yet rising from the once trampled and gory arena, a cloud between 
us and the beautiful skies. \Vhnt a terrible ]Hiwcr has a place 
like this over the imagination ! I there beheld not alone the half- 
sickening, hilf-inloxieniing scenes of ancient gladiatorial combat; 
but, as 1 stood near one of the ruined passages, by which the wild 
beasts, ages on ages ago, were driven mad with rage and hunger, 
from their black, snhterrancan dens, into the noontide blaze of 
the amphitheatre, i involuntarily hslened to hear them roaring and 
bounding beneath me. 





Tub Americans arc « qaecr people, to be sore ! In soat« 
rcf^pccts 50 lilie cbiMrcn, thvv are in otliers wiso and KRBouable 
as Sorratps liiinself. With all their hni(;giug:, thc-y have yi^l iievt'i* 

braKH^'""^^*^'"*"t!^''^*'^"*^*'*^'^s''*'-^'"Ji*- Wehavesccn urchins, 
drest by lhi>ir inumm;i» iu the b(^)>t of wcrylhiog, yel piidirifj Lhcui- 
selves iiniiK-iisi-ly on a parcel of luenn shining UUcrs, ferrclml 4iut of 
Eome old trunk in the garret, and hung about ibem to help to sus- 
tain an iiuagiuaiy character; and even so may tre observe incon- 
sistent and vntu Jonathans, undervaluing their grand and substan- 
tial advantages, aim at and sigh for things ntirrly vrorih1e»s, out 
of their own time and place, all the while fancpng themselves 
much dignified by lIiL'Se ill-(:UioK shreds of a grandam's finery. 
Yet, in some directions, lion- philosophical they are ! dealing 
with ideas as if they vrere solid, tangible realities ; scorning all 
the aids and appliances of oittward seoming ; able to bov down 
in obeisance to a principle, as if it were clothed in oil ihc sym- 
bolism of crown, orb, and crmiuc. Theu a^aiu, talk to them of 
the horrors andahoutinations of uogru-slavery, aud the impiety of 
daring to own men nnd women, and they laugh at you for an ab- 
straciionisl, and point triuniphaiilly at their slaves, as far better 
fed, and better drest, aud more seltrespoeling tliau yonr colliery 
ami factory Inboiircrs, boinid to the soil by a necessity more 
inexorable than cliaius,— the necessity to cat. If they caunut 
al'nrays sLup to give a reason, they are at least always ready with 
an answer, ti> every nlijection that can he brouglit ngainst tlicir 
present status; on answer which is sure to derive a ctrtaiu auionut 
of silencing force from tlie evident prosperity, happiness, and iui> 
provemcnl of their new-bora country. Scornfully disregarding 
the uiuUitude of petty restraints which go to make up fine man- 
ners, they are yd excessively sensitive to comnieuls, foreign and 
domestic, on their behaviour in society. Cast in their teeth (not 
inappropriately) the uulioiial vice which de5letf marble floors and 
Persian carpels without scruple, and they will, us likely as not, 
deny the fact ; convicted in the act, they will justify it. At once 
the rudest and the most humane among civilised nations, who 
shall do them justice? But th;it is not our business just now. 

The incrc.nsing tendency of the Americans to prefer unmarked 
men for their Chief Magistrates, ts vcrj- siguiGcaut, un many ac- 
counts; but our present purpose does not include the discusjUon 
of general principles. The election of Franklin Pierce, after 2Mil- 
lard Fillmore, and James K. Polk, is an iudicatiou of the fact ; and 
those of Jackson, Harrison, and Taylor, arc no contradictions of 
it, since they were a mere temporary ebidlition of the war spirit, 



eonlwquni^'iipoii (he siircesses nf llir Florida. Fronlier, and Mexi- 
can wars. The univcrsAl question asked by the. sorcrripi people, on 
Ofcasioo of ihe noniiuation of each of llie llirets civiljan^t w« bare 
named, was, " \\ ho is ho ? " Vet Uicy were no whit tho Jew ready 
to throw np ihc-ir caps, and jipvo their most sweet voices for ihem, 
the instant tlicy ivere hi'tcd by u few potent handu to ihu fiosiUon 
of cai]diilatt;«. Mr. Fillmore — aometirat.^ facetiously called " Hia 
..Accidcncy," because he came to the presidcmial throne most un. 
«]tp«ctedly by the death of poor Oeiieral Taylor, biiuted to th« 

rro by implacable office-seekers — pnived a popular ruler, bc-iug 
nature, and in all sincerity and good intention, a compromiser. 
And therefore incapable of giving countenance to any public ui«a>j 
aura that should raise disputes and set politicians logelher by the 
'< cars. He is a man nf majestic fii;iirc and bland coiinleoancc, with 
manners elaborately couitcouj;. though not without self-respecU^ 
He professes himself much relieved by (he pumiibsion to lay cova 
^ia office, though even hi» friends admit tliat be could liave been 
perstuded to relaiu it for aooLlier term, if his country bad de- 
manded ftuilier services. Perhaps thu (wu are nut incompatible 
after all. C'cnalnly, nothing could excel the smiling f;r9ce with 
-wliicb be occupied the second place at bis successor's inaugu- 

Franklin Pierce has not quite so much to ibank nature for in 
tbe way of personal advantages, uor yet so smooth and beaming a 
coantenaocoi with which to soften refusals and pacify tho disiip- 
pointed. He bns tlio typical Yankee face: sltarp, keen, anxious, 
ttble, but neither digiiilied our prepus&esiiiug. Slender and wiry 
in form, his gitslnn>s are aulnniatic.. and his roicu iinmnsicfil, 
though sonorous. Tho deeply afflictive loss of bis only child by 
a nidroad accident, shorlly befurL* bis accession, gives ualuruliy au 
additional sliadc of eamestucss to a countenance never joyous ; 
and the look of sadness u-bich he now habiiualty wears, adds much 
to tlie inleresl with which he is regarded by the people. 

" One touch of sorrow nutk^i the whole world kin." 

He has been fiomcwhat in public life, but with no particular 
eefat : and ihnii!;li be 6gurcd somewhat in the Mexican war, it 
was not very favourably. But his brother officers brought homo 
a warm estimate of his personal character, as being unselfish and 
conaidurale i>r othirrs to a remarkable degree. How be can ma- 
nage these qualities, or preserve this rejmtation, in his new posi- 
tion, where he must disoblif^ a hundred evrry time be gratifies 
one, remains to be seen. Borne in on a triumphant vote, be is 
yet almost as much of nn accident as bis predecessor, having no 
more bold ou tbe tmaifinalinn, the affections, or tbe pride of the 
counlry. One must bare been very thoroughly arquainled with 
the American democracy, to have forosci-n that \Vi hstcr and Scott 
Would stand no chance with this ph-aifrr of a party crisis. 

Tho President of the Ignited States does not share the hard 
■fiite of other sovereigns, doomed to forego the pleasnre of strictly 
penonal friendship and esteem. His honours being necessarily 

Y 3 

lort-lived. no man hales him for them; and the Itnou-lodfto that 
ho is soon to rfittini to piiviLte life, (guards him against yielding 
himself up too much to the haughliiiesa of power. The Frcsu 
dent is, in Imth, the most oppressed public servant in the na- 
tion, and purhups hanj^lUiness is the fault he is least likely to 
fall into, if one may judge by the aspect of tilings at the White 
liou!>e. The sorereiKn people, in their individual a& well as col- 
lective <-a]mcity, fee) thai house to be theirs, to enter at all hours, 
and to he altcoded to under all circnmBtanccs. The President 
and liis family may indeed lock the doors of the room they happen 
to he occupying at the moinetit, but every door not thus ^uurded 
will be habl'e to ho entered, at any hour of the thiy, by booted visi- 
tors fioiu Ailiansas or Iowa. The vntrance*hall of the presidential 
mansion looks, iu all respects, like the reslilmle of a second-rate 
hotel, all its appointments being calculated for the rough com- 
pany it is ffenerally used by; and the reception-room* on the 
lower ftfior, being llius made common to (he entire public, lack the 
air of nt'atncss which graces state upnrtmimL^ elsewhere. Not an 
usher attends to :tce that the privilege of entrance is not abused. 
You go in and wander about at your leisure, among gilding, mir- 
rors, and satin damask, and no one a^ks you for credentials, or 
hints that you had better not put yoiu' feci on the sofas. Is tliere 
any other country in tlio world where this stale of things could 
exist? It Eccms coai'se am! careless, certainly ; but there niusC 
be a considerable degree of refinement somcvlierc, to make it 

The East Room, luvcd for fer^w, has been much spoken of by 
western members, wliu are shocked by its splendour, which, at 
they aver, helps unwarrantably to deplete l!ie treasury of the 
nation. 'i"his room is eighty leet long by forty-five in width, and 
its extravagant decorations cunfiist of" an ordinary Bmssels carpet, 
window-curtains of crimson damask, half-a-dozen looftiug-glasses, 
and a certain uumbtr of fur from elegant sofas, chairs, and tables. 
Not a picture, not a statue, not a work of art of any descripiion 
giaces the forlorn bareness of ihe walls ; and no American hotel 
parlour of any preteiisluns, makes balf s'l poor a figure. Now, 
our Western friend does not knuw what an important step in Iris 
education would be the placing of a few pictures even — let them 
be by Amcricau artisU only, if he insists uu it — in this gathering- 
place of the masses. 

The city of Washington is redolent all over of its great founder, 
whose honest pride was deeply gratiticd by ihe just compliment 
paid him by his conutiy, in naming the capital afler him, tiiongh 
hi» modesty prcvenlcd him from ever calling it anylhingbut "The 
Federal City." It is a place of great interest, curiously character- 
^tic in all respects. Correspondences without number might bo 

iced by u less imaginative observer than Swedcuborg. To our 

'thinking;, it is more really the ideal heart of ils nation ttuin London 

or l*arii^, which owe their exisunce and interest to an immense 

vtrif-iy uf causes, while Washington has but one. In initli, "The 

|ii''udural City ' is as near an abstracuou us may bcj spile of a ftjir 



moTble piles which represent, in some sort, the Hcpnrtincnts of 
Slate ; and tiie gothir SmithnoiiinTi InNtitiitr, which fitnnds aat A 
, transplanted slip of 0!c) Knj^land. Even in its laying out, Wash- 
ington fiymboli£c», in an obscitre maiiner^the wliolo countr}-; forit 
is built on nn En^liKb plan — none other than that deviKcd by Sir 
Christopher Wren fur ibe rcbuildiij}; of Loudou alter the gruat fire, 
rejected ibcn and there, because oi' its " magnibeenl distances," 
unsuiled lo an area so valuable, hut called up and afloptcd when 
Major L'iinfrtnt, llie" Capabihty Brown" of ibe posl-revulutionarv- 
em, had scone and leave to use, for the new capital, the best possi'^ 
ble idea, with unlimited space to work upon, and boundles.4 (future) 
neanH to carr^- out the (letaiis. This fact, unrecorded as yet, as 
far OB we know, was observed by Mr. Vinton, of Ohio, not inajiy 
years nince, in the London Art-Union, where Sir C'luisio]>lujr's 
diuK^infi are preserved. 

Whoever will stnnd on Capitol Hill, or still better, on the 
balcony of tho Capitol iuttlf, and let bin eye wander over the 
grand scene visible front there, will, we tbink, be inclined to add 
another "circuniKpico" to the great archiiecl's cpita|ili. The 
avenue!: of iramenRe width, diverging from thai ceuU'al cniincnc* 
carry the imagination to the remotest limits of the great empire., fuf^ 
tlie obsener finds it impossible to refrain from following out, in his 
tliouglit, the iriangulation suggested by tlic commencing paints 
at bis feet. These main avenues, named from the thirteen original 
stateSj arc crossed by streets, numerically designated in one direc-, 
tion, alphabclicnlly in the opposilcs, so llint when we are scekin| 
** the corner of F. Hud Twelith-street," or " Four- and-a-b alt' street, 
B and C," wo walk as among ali^ebraic signs, surrounded by all 
the Him glur}' of abstractions. From the Capitol we look down 
upon the President's house, though that, loo, is upon au eminence ; 
^^-nibols ag^in, though we are far fram suspecting General Waiih- 
ingtfin of anything so fanciful. The di.stancc between thy Capiiol 
and the "White IIuu«c"iB about a mile, and the way between is a 
street cue hundred and »ixly feet in width, as yet sparsely built,) 
and lucking the grace of nreliiteetural clii;cc, but grand and impoa 
iag from tlio sweep of ill descent and re-ascent, as well as becftut 
of its niiigniAceut terminations, tho fUlu offices clustering at tba' 
■western end, while the Capitol crowns the steep at llie other. Tho 
whole space belwceo the Capitol and the Potomac, southward of 
this great avenue, — an area of seven hundred acres, — is to be 
thrown into a park, including within its bounds the gardens ant 
conservatories belonging to the nation — from which arc sent to alii 
parts of the Union the seeds and slips of rare and useful pbuts ; 
4he SmithKuniau edifice, expresstr picturesque rather than conve- 
nient ; and the new monument lo tlie Father of his country ; a pile 
of stone as yel &h3peles« and huge, such as " lubbanl labour" 
could have contrived as well as executed, but destined, in the end 
to be an ediBce worthy at least the wealth of a great country, i£ 
not the ta^tu and fitness of u higlily civdised one. This park will 
be laid nut in walks and groves, with a carriage drive of eight miles 
—a prototype, we may hope, for the otlier public grounds in Ame- 



rican citiesi, thus far miserably unfnraishcd in ihu respect. It will 
be cDlcred, lr(>ai ihv Capitol, by a triuiuplial arch, and is to iuciutle 
an arlKirdlum or Kcientilic classiticatiun of trees — an ^mcricaa 
sylra — planted as a border ronnd the entire space- Ever^Tvcns 
axe to \>Q very abiradont in it, llie mild climate being particularly 
farourablc to tbuir ntpid ^owih nnd fine size. All this is in ac- 
cordance with the plauK of the lamented Downinft, lost by a terri* 
ble steam-boat accident last isumuier. Hardly even the far-lamed 
Vhce tie la Concnrde wilt be raoro beaouful limn ihi^ esplaoadet 
\ntb its grand odiuncls. The plan of Washinf^lnn inclades a 
loullitude of open spaces iuiended as small parks, besides this 
great one. 

Tbe Capitol itself, let ti-hat fault will be found with il« architec- 
ture — as who can't find fault with arcliitt-ctiire unprotL-cted by iho 
shadow of j^rt-ai anrl eslablislicd names r — is a splendid object, if 
only for its size and the dazzling trhitcneM of ils material. And 
who can tuok at it without remembering that Washington himt>eir 
laid its first comer-Kione. it is three handred and lifiy foct in 
length, and covers an area of an acre and a half. Already too 
small for its purposes, great wings are bcin*/ addtd, which with 
the cotoniiadi-s, will more than double ils present size, and make it 
a still more glorious nhject in the aunlight, as one looks up Irom 
tbe Potomac shore, Uees and j^^aixLens clustering about its base, and 
flags floating abore ils battlements. 

Wiibii), there is much to drag down the immginatioD. First and 
foremost the state of ihe floors, which would disgrace Timbucloo 
or a Hottentot Kraal. Then the absence of all form and order 
of reception, tin; wliole tlung being just like a street aud a very 
dirty one. The Rotunda, is a fine circular wailing room of a 
bundred feet diameter and of equal height, with a dome overhead 
and doors on all sides, and between the doors large pictures of 
scenes from American history. One panel only waits for a piclnro 
now painting in Paris by Powell, who has resided there three 
years for the purpose. It reprvscnls tbe discovery of llie -Missis- 
sippi by De Sotn, and is said to be tbe best thing yel painti^d for 
the Rotunda. Those of Tnimbnl will, howprcr, always possess 
sapcrior interest, as conl.iining authentic portraits of the promi- 
nent Kevoluiionisls. It will be long, probably, before the mosses 
bero will pictures — especially national ones, — purely imagi> 
native; they atknowletige as Yet no reality but lileralily. Poca- 
honta-i ihrnwing htinstdr in the way of the lomaliawk raise«l lo kill 
Captain Smith, ])asses prrlty well, thonph not exactly a '* view 
taken upon the jipol ;" but franklin working at his printing- prrn* 
would please huitur, liecanse there would liv a real portrait of Fniuk- 
lin. and another, equally real, of bis printing-press; the latter 
easily vuiifit-d by a "isit lo the Patent Office, wlierv stands tlie 
identical press, in a glass case, as clumsy and black as an in-- 
fant demon nce<\ he. Vti the pictures of tlie Rotimdn and tlie 
general harmony aud vlegancc of the room exercise a silent 
influence, no doubt; let us at least hope ii, sinco there am so> 
many proofs, on all sides, that refinement is the one thing yet- 


to seek at tlits gatbcring of the AmericQQ Doubles in their legisla- 
tire vnpacitr. 

Frtmi the Rotunda vo pass into the Library, > noblo apartment 
on the east front, tined and shulffd vnth iron, ftvui tbu »ud expe- 
rienoo of a yoar or two since, when its precious cimti-nts were 
bamt without a poiisibility of help. Besidea manv thoiisandx of 
vuliiinc« iutriiisicallT valuable, iucludin)^ copims of all Aaiorican 
copy-right books, the manuscripts, iiia[>8, and records^ of material 
interest and importance, made the loss irreparable, at least by any 
power of the Government. Tbere i», however, a private bbrary ia 
WRKhin^^on, belonging to Peter Force, Esq., which probably is 
destined uUimatcly — Inn^' hence wc may hope, since its owner 
is nniveis-illv estet'irii'd — to become the ]»roperty of the nation, 
and irbich contains an immenM; mass of bonks, pictures, maps, 
mannwripU!, medals, hufnn, coins, and autf^graph letters, erery 
one of which illustrates, directly or indirectly, tlie history of the 
oonntry from its di>>covorv to the pa'seni uiomeot. Mr. M'Oiiiref 
another Washington collector, possesses volumes of autograph 
1etti-r!i of WuHliiuKtonjJefrtirson, Adams, &c.; so that it is [wmble 
that in time tlic loss siisiaiiied by Uio burning of Uiu Congres- 
sional library may be, in part, at least, repaired: provided always, 
that the countiy ever gets time to attend to any matters not 
directly bearing on its material prosperity. 

llie li!w books that wcro saved from the confla^atinn, and 
«uch as bait; been nlR'ady purchased as tbu uuclena uf a n«w 
CongresMonal library, are collected in a nioni ou the south of 
the KnCiindn, used as a fashionable 1ouoging>placc and social 
exchango by members of botli Houses and strangers visiting 
Wafibinglon from all parts of the Union. It is pleasant to 
encounter there many people one likca to see for rarioui rca> 
sons; but far more interesting lo the pritileged few to penetrate 
into a retired apartment beyond — used as a committee-room nf the 
Senate, and ax a re[K)Kitiiry for senatorial reports and documcnls— 
vbcro «its studying and writing, fonbe most unfortunate of human 
beings, Alisa liix, to whoae untiring and self-sacrificing labours 
the cotmtry and die world owe so much. Some fourteen ^(ate 
hnatic avylums on the grandest scale, and under tlm most intelli- 
gent care, are already the result of this lady's t)«nevolent impor* 
innity iviih various rpgif>l.ilures which had before neglected the 
witnts r>f the most helpleiS5 and abn^ed p4>rtion of their populatiuii. 
Evcu tliv good fvorks of that pnirorb uf bentficant women, Kli- 
xabcth Fry, sink in comparison with the re tor uw in prisons and 
asylums of a single woman without fortune, who de«ires above aU 
thing!) to remain unnoticed and tuiknown. Grateful communities 
hare again and again desired pictures and statues of hrr to orna- 
ment and dignify the scenes of her labours and her trinntphit; but 
tho pain which these propositions occasion her is no><r sq well un- 
derstood, thai eren those by whom her worth is most justly fell 
refrain from any fiirther attempt to do her public honour while she 
lires. 'Ilie object which al present occupies her time, and, more 
than all, her bailing strength, is tho esteblishmont of a central 



national asvliim, whicli her iinwcariod cxploralions into llic neces- 
sities of the case }iave convinced her is imperalively called for, to 
receive great immbtirH of uuhajspy waifs and strays «'lio have no 
claims ou limited Stale bounty. To tliiHwork the lias nov devoted 
iieveral winters, spending llie entire period of the session at Waah* 
ingloii, in such etibrts uk lit-r large experience hag shown eOectiial 
cUuwIiere. But although she has an ascertained and sufilcient 
majority in both houses to carr}* her hill, sectional jealousy and 
party venom always succeed iu prerenlinp its passing, by tlie old 
expedient of lacking fast to it certain unpopular and impossible 
addenda which at once oblige its best friends to lay it on the 

The Legislative halls of the United Stnlct: are much like others 
of simihir cli;tvacU"r — very mucli tike ihe French Chamber of De- 
puties. The House of Lords stands alone not only in its got- 
geuusness of decoration, lint in tliu air of gentlemanly calmness 
and high-bred self- restraint ffhtch .pcrvndcs its deliberations. 
Congress lo^ks like an RKsembly of men of business, keen, rough, 
anxious, watchful. When uiipica.saiii things arc said, a " rowdy** 
spirit is called up iu a moment. Tliis is not to he wondered at^ 
for Western and Southern members are in a great majority, and 
Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Adauis^all the men whose august per- 
sonal presence and irresistible weight of character used to be felt, 
are gone. Cass is thei"e — calm, <{uiet, reserved, gentlemanly; 
but his abilities and accomplishmunts are shorn of their beams by 
a settled conviction of Iiis scllishncss, his greedy spirit, and his 
lack of htyli political principles. There is Hale, a great, stalwart, 
keen man, the champion of the Anti-Slavery interest, whom not 
all the unpopularity of }iis favourite topic, nor the bitter wit ^ith 
which he enforces it, can make personally unpopular, thougli in 
the Senate he is hated uud dreaded, like a gilded bomb with its 
fuse forever alight. He hnn, however, more of the sharp-shooter 
than of ihti tiained ftrtillrry-man in his oratory, and what he says 
is not felt long alter the echoes of his soniirouii voice have died on 
the ear. Chase, of Ohio, also nn Anti-iSlavcry man, and, as such, 
tleemed by certain Southern fire-eaters a blot upon the Senate- 
is handsome, more delicate, more genth'manly than his bulky 
friend, moYo silver)' in speech, yet no less effective. But both are 
on the wrong aidu for general interest and recognition, Leward, 
aj:ain, poUsljcd, elaborate, powerful, earnest, is the best hated 
man in the room, and can do lillle by his presence for the general 
tone. Tlie honorable Pierre Soule, with his swarthy soiilhem 
skin, deep fierce eyes, and diabolical beauty, is a finished courtier. 
£rcry word, every look, is just what he chooses it shall be. The 
lightning soul underneath is subdued to the uses of a telegraph, 
which cairifs no messages to the outward world but by order. 
This man, with his deliberate enunciation in a French-linciurod 
accent, has, perhaps, more personal jjower in the Senate than any 
other, and he uses it iu favour of gentle manliness, always. If he 
killed a man, as he might naturally enough bu expected to do if 
one should aiTmnt liim, it would be without a violent gesture or an 







tmbtni^tOTne vord. ITU be objected that this is not an American 
character, it will be because the objector lias not calculated the 
distancf! bctuceu Boston and New Orleans. 

A larpt proportion of members of both houses figure during tho 
seii«on ill Wushingtuu society, which is free as air to all who come 

{iropcrlv accratUied. IL is only iu Kuminer that tho Washington 
adicK, locludiug non* in this term tho wivci> of heads of depart- 
ruentft, lake time to sleep. Aii long as Congn-!>s sit:^, so long do 
routs and balls, diiiner parties and suj^per parties, crowd one upon 
ibc other upon the devnied pupuhiiion of the Fedend City. 
Without the heavy splendour and unplcasing contlinciis of New 
York or I'hiladelphia, the«t) n»(cnib]ies, from tlieir advantage in 
the constant presence of distinguished and eminent persons, 
J}os8e)^s a character of superior refinement. The younger people 
are like other young people — tliey iivc and breathe and dn-&s and 
cat only to dauce ; from ten at night to two in the morning the 
vibration never ceases, and harp and piano, " sackbut and p^udterj', 
and all manner of music" that can be danced after, know no rest. 
Clouds of tuile, showers of roses, incense of 6ailery and bouquets, 
make enchanting ilie gas-lixht, and intoxicate fair-haired brains, 
as tiicy did of yore the brains of these bclle»' graQdniotliers. 

" .So VM it when my life bfgaa ; 
So is it now 1 am a man ; 
So be it when I sbatl grow old I" 

Ilut with the elders, conversation is the amusement, and for ttiis 
Washiiigioii iifTunbt, of couii>c, unusual advautagcs ; for if there be 
any talent nr cultivation, joined with even moderate fortune, any- 
where iu tho Uuit«d Stales, it is sure to find its way to Washington, 
sofiner ur later ; and, wliolly free from the wcightof any piivilcgcd 
class, ability finds its level and real merit its due reception. No 
exception to this remark is fouud in the presence of the govern- 
ment functionaries ; fur without a tinge of servility of manner, 
(hose " public servants" arc obliged to recognise, at all limes and 
places beyond their on'n especial bureaux during ollice hours, 
their equality with their conslitueuls. (Jf course they are at 
liberty to defend themselves from the aggressions of ignorance and 
Ul-breediug, but they assume no state, and pretend lo no social 
rrspect not accorded lo other gentlemen. It must be confessed 
that the world has never before seen such a spectacle as Wash- 
ington presents in thi^ particular, but a full exposition of its social 
aspect would require more cpace than we can spare. 

The Torlonia of Washington, Mr. Corcoran, entertains in a 
style no whit inferior to that of his noted probttypu at Rome, 
though his palace and its gallery arc but miniatures of Italian 
niagni6cence. The Greek Slave of Power graces one end of this 
beautifut room, itself enough to throw the glorious light of Art 
over the whole dwelling. If wealth could purchase piincedoms 
in America, there are few men who would liecoma tho State better 
than Mr. Corcoran, though he is said lo have risen by sheer force 
of talent from very bumble beginnings. 


General Scott, who restrlcs pcrmaiiently at Waslijnpxwi as h 
quartern, is a inaii wlio \ones the social atlrauLagt-K hu lias tVirlr 
eamod hy miliiary iibitity, saccess, aud uite(;rity, by the weakness 
of vanity* or the I'Uiity of weakness. Never bad giant so UtUc 
dignity. No oue can couverse with him half an liour tritbout 
wondeiiiig that fau has ever done an yUiiiig. Th^t: is a strange mix- 
tate of respect and contenipt in iIm; public estimate of him ; and 
the late aU«rapi to create ihe office and rank of Lieuu-naut- 
General for him, as a reward for bis past services, failed as much 
by means of the prevalence of the bitttr feeling, qr because of tlie 
reluctance of many patriotic persons to any increase of wiUtary 
power and patronage. At the late Inaoguration, Geneml Scott 
was ** nowhere,*' if we may be allowed an Amencanisni literally 
correct in this case. Clearly the people of the I'nited Slates do 
not intend to give undue encimra^^'eincnl to milil:iry ambition. 

Tlie chnnjte of chief niler is nctoinplished hvn: wiili extraordi- 
nary quietness, (ieneral Wasbioj^ton is said to have had a taiito 
for pomp iind ceremony, quite natural fur the timfls in ubieb Ira 
lived. What would ho hare said of his successor of the fourth of 
March, IBM, in plain citizen'* dress, passing from Willard's Hotel 
through Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol, iu an opun barouche, 
bareheaded uuder asn()W-stonn,not even an umbrella initTCL'|jling 
the view claimed by the "sovereign people" who thronged the way 
in thousands i General Washington, in his stale costume of black 
velvet, with lace ruffles and a dress sword, his hair powdered and 
a cocked hat carefully poised above it, must have made quite 
another figure ; his majestic height, and a preRcocc which struck 
cveri.' beholder with an involuntori* respect, more than sup])l)'ing' 
the lack of re^al paraphernalia. General Pierce is a man with 
whom one might ride in an omnibus every day for a year, without 
once thinking to inquire who lie was ; not thai be is conteroptiblet 
bat common-place — what the Americans call an average man. 
15esido htui iu a carriage sat Mr. Fillmore, not tiucovored, for be 
bad ceased, when the black hall at the Observniory dropped noon, 
to be a i)ublic servant, and a.s a private gcntlem;ui lie took uo 
notice of the dcnmnslrations <it' the crowd. A few companies of 
iniantrv, some showy troops of light horse, and a specimen or two 
of that wondrous flying artillery that, by way of trial, once flew \ip 
the forty marble stcpd that lead lo the Capitol, formtMl tbo main 
nortioii of tbo corth/e besides the govemmeut fimctionaries. 
Then there was a prodigiotis following ou foot, on horseback, aud 
in cairiageB, not to speak of lhos« spirited " Fire-companies/' 
tliat make part of every procession in America, dragging gorgeous 
engines, and hosc-carts like triumphal cars waving with lluwers 
and banners. Amid all this, not a policeman was seen. Kvery- 
body did that which seemed best in his own eyes, and yet all was 
nrdtrly- A company of " Fantastical*" or *' Caliithumpians" — 
Ush fc11o>v<t. ludicroui^Iy diest. and Diarchiog lo mock bands of 
— nbuwtid lliemsclves soinewliere on the track of tl»c proces- 
t they were sonn taken in bsnd, and sent (lying in all 
by tho authorities, however, but by the ** sovereigns" 







in person. The press abont the Capitol wms, of cannc,vcTy great, 
but not a IohH word was spoken. Ladies passed in and out of the 
throng withoQt dilficalljr, and in «piteof the anxiety to secure poai- 
tkHW from which the InuuKurtil Address could be heard.therc vasno 
pttshinit. An Italian cn>wd in Holy Week, or a Freiich ouv at a fete 
in the Champs Klysees, could not be more civil. Strange that mm 
who cannot refniiii from HociaJ tnorroitics within doors, can he so 
famnane and !t€lf-|E:oremed, in cases where radeneu is least noticed ! 
A grent platfiiriu had bcffii erected on tlie east front of the Capitol, 
and this wits soon filleil with officials, mcmtxrrs of both houses, and 
tadien. In tbc midst was a table, the plainest ihnt could be found* 
one would thiuk ; and en lliis table — a pitcher of water ! lliink 
of a coronation ! A smalt open Kpsen wa^ left behind the inblc, and 
in that soon appeared the new President, with the Chief Justice, 
who was to administer the oath. This was done in dumb show, of 
course, as far as the cmwds below were concerned, and it is to be 
noted that daring the ceremony the snow continQed to fall on the 
uncovered heads of the di^ilarics, while the spectators were 
sheltered by hats and umbrella.'*, no carriages being allowed within 
tbe grounds, on nccnunt of the crowd. A very fen- minutes 
sufficed for tbe installation of the ncn- ruler, and, without loss of 
time, while tlie people were slill sbnuliiig, he pulled off his over- 
coat in a rerj' business-lifce manner, .ind begtin his speech. The 
scene was romarkahlc. There was the deuie crowd of people, 
deemed by a goofl part of (he worid only half civilised in manners, 
calm and quiet as Kaslem saKes, lisiening nith critical ears to a 
man who the day before was hut a eoiintr^' lawyer from a little 
Statt- of the L'nion, now endued with the power of a constitniional 
raunarcb, which he is peaceably to relinqnish at the end of four 
years. Facing the speaker sat Washington, in colossal marblo ; 
cold, severe, walehful, and with all the dignity that ever belonged 
to carUdy licro; seeming to tr>* his successor by a judgment 
almost unerring in his morlal life, and now, to the imugiuaiion at 
least, xuhliindy pure iu the clearer light of ii world removed from 
passion and prejudice. Ihv. orator, loo, was <lcmon!i(Tativv o( thtf 
spirit of the hour ; he bad too much of the lawyer in his pleadings 
at»d bis gesticulations. The speech was energetic in its exposiiiotk 
of future policy, but the exposition itself seemed undignified 
amler the ci re u instances. It was too much like what is called in 
the United Sutes a *' slump" speech ; an eluctioneeiing address, 
out of place when the {kmI of honour has been won. But there 
was enough of the moral sublime in the scene taken as a whole, to 
counterbalance or overpower this individual error of tano. Tliat 
a deuiocraiic people sliould do notliing. on this, the chief natiortal 
occasion, to ueUght the public ere, seems anomalous ; but it has 
been observed thai as the Amrncans consider goTemment as, at 
b««t, only a Decenary evil, tbey are not proii)pie<t to any gi^y or 
fisstiru luani feat J lions connected with the insiiluuon. The cxtT- 
citt of a keen critical s|)irit is not fevourablu to pomp and |)aradey 
wUcfa appeal to tbe imaginalion ; tbe people ere too mocb occupied 
in watching and weighing their chosen minister to care for the mera 



exti'mah, and, id general, the Americans have no taste for slion.., 
though thev love hliow. Ue Torquevilli! says il is because ihcy 
aie a comiiicrcial people and calculate the cost. Perhaps it in 
ralhcr because they are a new people, made grave by the necessity 
of providing and learning. When Lhuy do attenipt public specta> 
cles, such as commemorative processions, funerals, &c., ihey are 
mean and palliv, and llm people Uugh al tliem^ even uhile ihuy 
throng to see tucni} while the more instrucicd shun ihera ulto- 

The nalional anniversary, July 4lh, is the Mgual for every- 
body vlio can afford it to rush out of town, and the 6trceis are 
filled with country people, foreigners, and children. Intensity w 
the law of Autericaa life; its pahulntn is excitement, not euperfi* 
ciftl, hut deep and serious. When tlio period for this has. past — 
perhaps this is deferring a change to tlic political millenniuni — we 
luay see quite another phase of character in the Bclf-govcmed, ^^ ho 
may ho|>e by that time to be in some fiensi; masters of themselves 
and their destiny ; a nation of philosophers, able to do what they 
will, and to show why they do it. 

WliL-n the procession passes from the Capitol towards the 
" White House," il simply reverses ihc order of it-i commence- 
ment — leaving the old IV'sident at a hotel, and carrying fonvard 
the new one to bis four years' palace^ where he must iuKtantly pre- 
pare to play iho host, receiving anybody who chooses to call, 
after lirst having given audience to foreign ministers and otlier 
officials. The city being thronged with strangers — hundreds 
having walked the street* all night for want of a lodging, after 
ever)- bed, chair, table, and floor was pacltcd — the rush at this 
first Icvce may be imagined. 13ut it all goes off quietly, and after 
a couple of luHirs spent in being gazed at and shaken bands 
witli.thc tyro in sovereignty has leave to seek his private sofa, 
where, let us hope ! his attendants sbampoo his weary timhs, 

" Lii|i liim in soft Lydisn airs," 

to prepare him for next day's labours. 

Meiinnhile, the released man feels like a bird with wings nctr 
plumed for a flight into tlie warmer attuosphere of home and 
mends. Occupying the suite of rooms at Willard's, just vacated 
by the new-comer, he sits, serene and smiling, to receive, not the 
condolences, but the congratnlntions ofliis friends: Mr. Fillmore's 
trooped nhout him, with feelings of sincere regard, for no " acci- 
dent" evt;r won so many golden opinions. With his grand 
person and gracious manner, he joins an air of dignified reserve 
and self-poise that inspires confidence even in a politician. This 
gentleman retires from office under peculiarly gratifying circum- 
stances ; for, really, nobody has a word to say against him^ while, 
from his cabinet, he received a testimonial of regard such as, so 
far as we know, is unprecedented in the history of the United 
States — a letter expressive of their grateful sense of his conduct 
towards themselves, with the highest commendation of his fidelity 
\devoUott as a public olficer. To all this the ex-Presideut 






repltCR, Willi much feeling, of which a singlo pnratrraph will gire 
•omc ideu of ihc tornis in which the American chief magistrate 
18 acciistnmcd to live with his olhcial advisors:— 

"No Pre&ident was ever more fortunate than myself in the 
selection of his Cabinet. No tnanifcKtation of unkind feeling, or 
eTen a hard wor«l, has ever disiurhtrd the hannoiiiotis action of 
the Council Board. This cordial unanimity has not only ad- 
Tonced the public service, but has been at alt limes to nic a 
Bonrco of unalloyed saiisfaciion. I Hhall ever n<lltict u[Hin our 
social mid official inicrconrnd with great plcaftare, and cherish^ 
to my latest brealfa, the Uisintvresltfd frieudship with which it lias 
been niarkcd." 

And thug, with no attempt at state or form, the discharged 
official slides back into private life, to appear again al tlie or 
on iho bench, in military or civil service, or at the plough, like a 
greater than Cine inn atus, WanhinKtoii, wlio, loaded with laurels 
and blessings, felt it a privilege aitd delight once more to traverse 
al leisure his fields at Mount Venion, entering with nen* pleasure 
into the minutest details of the management of his estate, and re- 
ceiving his friends with the simplicity and freedom of au ordinacy^ 

Mount Vernon was named hy llie elder brother of Washington, 
who had sened under tlie stoul old Admiral. It lies some fourteen 
or iirtccn miles below Washington, on the Potomac, or Kirer of 
Swans, over whose waters the eyes of the hero of Awericaa inde- 
pendence were never tired of wandering. Uere, in a simple 
family vault, he his prceiims ashes, destined, in conrse of time, to 
be placed under the hitgo monvimcnt now erecting to his memory 
in Washington, a perishable thing iu comparison with the world's 
sense of Ins deserving. No traveller from any quarter but takes 
this liallowed spot in his way, and all ships, as tliey pas*, lower their 
flags in reverential remembrance of him who sleeps below. The 
housu he loved belter than palaces still stands, though unhappily 
decaying. The government should buy it and preserve it reli- 
giously, and will doublkss do so, though probably not till time has 
done furlher mischief. There is the lar^e old rural dining-room, 
unomamentcd save by consecrated relics of the past, showing the 
Tcty aspect it presented to 1^ Fayette and all tlie noble brothers in 
arms who used to love to giilhcr thereabout their renerated chief. 
There is the bnstof Washington, by Houdoii,cast from life in 1785, 
grand and massivti in its contours as that of the CapitoUne Jove, 
but full uf human thought, passion, and tenderness, such as the 
plastic art never portrayed from ini a j;;i nation atone. KnlhiLiiasm 
lomctime* asks, '* When shall we look upon his like again ?" but 
this prosperous and happy country of his Javc and pride may bu 
well content to let him remain for ever unique and tmapproached^ 
in his glory, since only gient and ten-iblu emergencies ever callJ 
forth — perhaps i I were belter to aay create — such men. 

Tlie monument is designed to be, in the end, something far diP-^ 
forent from the huge mass it appears at present. .Ground the shaU 
or obelisk, which alone is begun, and which \b \a Vitr c^n w^ \q N>aa 


height of siK hundred feel, is to be built b circular Icniple or Pui- 
lljeon, of two liimdred and ftdy Teet diatneler, intended to conutn 
statues and pictures of Kevolulionary worthivft and others yrho may 
have pcrfonue<l feignal servici; to iJiu SuiU;. Helow are to re«l, 
besides the ashes ot" Washinfiton, the remains of thojic whum the 
country delights to hunour ; and the wholu will bo a ceutre of cod- 
secrated and ennobling natinnul muniuriei^, to which succeeding 
generations may reitort as to a fountain of patriotic fcoHng. Every 
State of the Union vends a block of native marble for the Btructurc, 
and on racli of these blocks is a cliaracteristic dedicainry inscrip- 
lion. Sliould this grand design reach actual consummation — 
■which, it is to be feared, widv not happen in our day — it may laugh 
at artistic criticism, and claim to be judged by its own rules ; or to 
stand unccnsurcd until a rival memorial shall arise, of equal mag- 
nificence and for the preservation of memories equally august. 
Kvery dnv 8cc8 the esteeni and ixr^onal affection of the people of 
ibe Cniu*d Slates for their first President incrcndr, and every year 
addii lo the numerous memorials of him, Mbich States and cities 
and private )iidiri(lu:ils are ambilioas to possess. In New York 
has lately hecti opened a cnllection of pictures and works of art, 
called the Washington Galleni', in which are the most valued and 
authentic rc]ticseulationR of the *' patriot, hero, sage" — from llie 
ago of sixteen, a fine, glowing boy, to that last portrait, patntf^d in 
1794, wliich Watdiinglon iiieulions in one of his letters, as the*' best 
Ukeueiis" thai had yet been made of him. Ue was at that time 
sixlV'five years of ai;o, and the muscles of his face and forni bad 
lost tome of their firmness. But tlie qualities fur which he was 
most remarkable are still there; the calm self-possession so dif- 
ferent from coldness; the dignity so far above haughtiness; the 
traces of passiuu that had been a servant, not a maMer ; the patience 
which, having liad its perfect work on earth, was then bnmblv wait- 
ing for the award of a higher and more awful tribunal. Though 
not remarkable as a work of art, this picture has an especial valne 
from having the sufl'ragcflf the great original, and because it bean 
IQ every line the evidence of simple truth. 

Ketumiug, after some digressiuns, wliicli it is hoped the render 
will not deem iiu pardonable, to the ci^* of Washington : the 
8mitlmonian Institute is one of the most carious objects that 
attract the visitor. The fruit of an English bi^uest, this tribute 
of science and benevolence to the spirit of liberty is without ft 
parallel in its origin, and perhaps hardly more commonplxce in 
other rt'cpect^. Fanciful heads and hands had the care of details 
in the carrying out of Mr. Smitbson's grand idee, and the reaak 
has been a curious specimen of the pepper-box Oolhic, verf 
pretty to look at as a decoration in the great park, but snggct^i^ 
its object, and tilting its place, as little as a Chinese pagoda for a 
citizen's country box, or a garden ''ruin,** which tarns out lo be 
a dairy. Certainly, tJiat long array of towers, turrets, and clois- 
ters fieems ill atlapted, at first view, for purposes of science, and, 
unhappily, the impression of un&uitablcuess is bv no means dimi- 
nished upou iuterior examiuatiou. In leni^th^ four buadrcd and 






fifty fwt, and barinfc an exueme breadtli of one liuuitrad and furty, 
it covers a rast ext«>nt nf f^ound, compared trilh llto available 
»| witbiQ, tiince tbe tuwers are, ont; aoH all, Kimplv iis«len. 
The J'liiiil, uriKiually abuiit bali' a iiiilliuii uf ilollars, IiaR iiut an yet 
been encroached upon, a» tbo biiiMinj^ was not comtnL-nccd dll 
intc-reBt sufliciuiil fur iu urt^ctma bad accrued ; aud Uie d«Bign of 
the Regents (the Pmsidunt of tho Uniti'd States and bis Cabioet^ 
vitli ftome otbcr liigh fuDcUoDaricft, Ibnniiig tbis board, ej: officio) 
IK tu (lividti the IncDUie into two paits, out; part devoted to ^ctra- 
tific n^searcb, and tbc oilier to the formmion of a library, a gone' 
ra] niusctim, and a gallery of art. Tlie scifiitilic branch is under 
very able directioo, in tbu person of Proll-Mor C. S. Henry, wliose 
name is no atraoger iu Kuropo since bis discuvuncs in electro- 
magneiism, &c., and whose whole boari and soul are devoted to 
U)C Etudii's suited lo bis portion. Sevtrral xcieutific works of 
world-vide value have aln-ady been published by liie liistitnte, 
under his dir<-ction. Tbc library nmubers already ten thon«aitd 
Tolumcs, and is increasing wvy rapidly, Mr. Jcwi-tt, the assistant- 
secretary ofllie lustilutt!, and acting librarian, bt-iug alro an en- 
ihuMdSL in bis branch. Uis plan for avoiding the incessant labour 
of amending and rcuowing catalogtK&, is considered very happy. 
He proposes to stereotype all titles separately, and to preserve tlie 
plates in alphalH:licnI order, inserting additional titles as ni'cd 
arices. This proraiscfl very much to lighten the labour of libra- 
rians, and tlio cost and delay of that order wiUiout whicli the 
grandest collection must become comparatively usflcss. Th« 
museum is as yet but a beginning, but has received fiome valuable 
scientific donations; aud ihc gallery of art has not even been 
commenced, unless we reckon as its germ a few specimens, i-alhcr 
cnrinus than beautiful, and a tine collection of engravings and 
works on art. This department will naturally lilt slowly, but 
in this counlr}' it needs only an impelns, which some accidental 
eanae i» very likely to supply. There is a vast amount of .tlum- 
bering or struggling Lalenl in the United Stales, which, as circum- 
ttancea become every day more favoumblo to its dcrelopracnt, 
will, ere long, begin lo make itself felt in the domain of art. In 
Ecul]itnn-^ particularly, American genius is at work, and is des- 
tined, a.<t it would appear, to shine lo a degree hardly to have bcca 
exp«cied so early in ll>e history of a utilitarian and unpoetical 
puoplu. One obstacle to the steady and cSicient eDcouragcment 
of art in thb country must ever be tlie want of pemancnce 
in pri«-ai« foituoes, though there will be, doubtless, iu lime an 
spprcciation of really meritorious works llint nill prevent tiicir 
proving "bad property,^ in the sales ibat inevitably follow tho 
doniifif of an .American millionaire- Until this point iu tutA" 
,is reached, lew will purchase very costly works of art, and until 
>stly, 1.1?. exquisite, works of art arc brought to view, the public 
lie for it must grow slowly. All is progress here, however ; and 
limpruvemeuts that would lag elsewher**, wailing for tho entire con- 
currence of causes, here dart forward in the most marreltous way , 
and under what would be total discouragements elsewhere. Doj 



Tocqnevillc, indeed, insists that a democratic society will be likely 
to produce rather a great number o( middling works tlian a few of 
llio higliesl invril. " [n the coufusion of ranks/' he saya, " crery 
cnc hopes to appear what he is not, and makes great exertions lo 
succeed ill this object. Tliis sentiment, indeed, wliicti is but 
tuo natural to the heart of man, does not originate in llic demo- 
cratic principle, but that principle applies it to matcriftl objects. 
Many of ihosu who had already contracted a taste for the fiue 
arts are iui])overished ; on the other hand, many who are not 
yet rich begin to conceive that taste, al least by imilaiinn ; and 
the number of consumers incrca.seK, but opuleuc and fasilidious 
consumers become more scarce. The productions of artists are 
more numerous, but the merit of eacli production is diminished." 
This oracular writer, whose vaticinations on the New World 
are alvavs wortliy uf respect, did not, could nut, tiike into ac- 
count circumstances which hare arisen as unexpectedly and ns 
much without precedent as the general condition of the people 
whose tendencies lie aiialyt^ctl with so nuich philosophical acumen 
twenty years ago. The increase of wealtli since that lime has 
been such as no theories had supposed, and foreign travel has 
become the cvery-day occurrence among people who do not eveti 
belong lo the wealthy class. That proximity to Europe which 
M. de Tocqueville thought would lend to render the Americau 
satisfied with imported works of art, has hut wanned liis taste and 
incn?ased bis knowledge of such productions to a point which 
will force liim to attempt to become himself un artist. What he 
will originate, if originality be any lon^jcr possible, remains to be 
seen; what he has done is sufficient to prorc that he is not going 
to be satisiied with au occasional view, or au imperfect reproduc- 
tion of the treasures of Kiu'opcan galleries. 

We nnist hardly quit the Federal City without mention of one 
of its most im])ovtRnt central advantages, the Nalioual Obser- 
vatory, which the country owes to that ver>' original person, Mr. 
John Qiiincy Adums, who underwent, in his advocacy of it, an 
amount of derision which was almo*t persecution, but which only 
incited his bull-do^f pertinucity to a more fixed deiermtnation. 
Up to his day ibe Americans were entirely dependent on Europe 
for nautical data and meteortdogical observations. At present, 
under the ciwu of Lieutenant Maury, the whole round of necessary 
inBtrument«, and the skill required for their best use, are at home 
and constantly occupied in valuable labours. The great equa- 
torial teleacnpe, in its revolving dome, is but one of ihe grand and 
costly appliances already collected in this great building, which 
scornful unbelievers used to call Mr. Adams" '* Lighthouse in the 
skies." " 




a ^alf of onr (©ton 

AOTROB or "MIU TIOLIT AKD lirt omu." 


Thk Minister was an good as his word, and Bernard Carljron 
had the satis^Hctiun of affpHsinK Lilian, abinit a vQvk after the 
conrersation bctvrcRn Sc1n>-nana the F.irl, that hr had received a 
perroaneot appointment, which was already valuable, and which 
would, in due official coureo, be exchanged for eoniethiiif; hcltcr. 
He liad also the internal comfort of rtflcctiiif,' that he owwl this 
enliri'ly to his own exertions in the lTi«l-8plitTC into which he had 
been introduced by Lord Rookbury, for Selwyn, in the uprinht dis- 
chargo of bis duty, decmcl it right to apprise Carlyon, that hia 
fbnner patron had conceived a dislike to liim, and that his ad- 
vancement was by no means to be an additional item in his debt 
offp-atitnde to the Karl. 

Selwyn, who regarded Carlyon with cousiderable interest, did 
not hesitate to add a few word*, rathtr of bint than uf remonstrance, 
and based uptm the story which the Karl had compiled, touchinf^ 
Bernard's gusceplibility to feminine attraction. The Minister did 
not give much credence to the tale, aK presented to him, bein([ 
well awant of his noble friend's talent for defamation, hut on the 
supposition that where there was so much srookc of scandal there 
miglit he M>mu fire of fact, he, )^)od naturcdly. cotniHellt'd llcniard 
to increase his chance of winning one of the prizes of life by 
concentnitin>; his ait<.-ntions. He refused to say more, but parted 
very kindly with Carlyon, and adding a hope that though tlieir 
connection ended^ their acquaintanceship niighi not do so; and 
Carljon, on his side, exprvascd a regret, which was sincere, at 
resigning the employment which had brought him into cunbtant 
and c-on^dential tulcreuurse with the high-minded and intellectual 

Despite what Selwyn had told him. Beninrd determined to call 
upon the Karl, and make formal acknowledgment that lits pro- 
motion had grown out of the introfluction originally given him by 
Lord Koukbury. The Earl received him with much cordiality, 
having, in the interim between that time and his talk with l?elwyn, 
got over, not only the rage in whieh we li-ii him, but, at lenst, a 
dozen succeeding bursts of wrath, uud liavmg 'a\so iitUN<£<\ «\ "^^^ 

rot. xrxn. -t. 


coQclnsion, that as his evangelical friend vould infallibly do what 
hu had prorahfd, there was uo use in conk-sting the inntter 
further. So h\» Innlship assured Carlyon thai he had never 
entertained any douht of liis rising ns soon as his talents should 
become appreciated, and thai he, Uie £arl, bad thrrefare abstaineil 
^m urfO"!^ njKin the Mini.sier to attend to Heniiird's interests, 
feeling that it irould b« more gratifying to Uie latter lo knoir chat 
be was the architect of hi» o» n furUuies. In fact, therefoTe. the 
Earl said, Bernard really owed hitn nulhing, a statement lo which 
the newIy-appoiiiU'd Secretar)- to the Salvages and Coulingeocies 
Office gave ready axsmt. 

liord Iloolibiiry then began, more suo, lo discuBii the doings of 
the Wilmslows, and otliers with whom they u*erc both acquainted. 
Bernard bad for some time hoard notliing o( the Aspvn Court 
family, the young lailieK having ceased to send him thosu united ^ 
literaryetTortsofwliicli we saw specimens in other days, and lie was ( 
interested iu hearing bow ihu curious m^aye, which he bad helped 
to arrange, was proceediog. L«urd Ilookbury was as frank as ^ 
usnal wlien speaking of other people's afluirti. Mr. Wdrnftlow* ^| 
was, he said, as great a blockhead aa ever, but his vices were ^^ 
taking a more sullen aud selfish cluiraeler— he dninls bard, and 
squandered away a good deal of uiouct at bilHarda and other 

" Hut where does he get ibe money, and whrre does be find tho 
players?*^ ankcd Carlyon, remembering that Mulesworth was not 
likely Lo supply the furuier very UberaUy, and that Aspen Court 
woH at a mo»t iaconvenieQi distance from the nearest provincial ^ 
town wht-rt; anything like Henry WilmslowV act could be found. H 

"Wd), I have been fool enough to lend him a good (leal of 
money }" said t)ic Karl, " and be has bought a horse, and rides off 
to Bristol nnd other )ilnrL-i>, and relieves his amiable fmnUy of hi» 
society until he gctn cleiuied out.'' 

"I hupe he duly appreciates your singular kjiKlneiw," said 
Carlyon, who was hardly entitled lo put, point blank, the qucsttoDr 
why Lord Uookbury threw away his coin so absunlly. Of course, 
however, the Kiirl knew what be meant, and told bim so. 

" Suppose," wild I^wd Itonkbury, " tliai I do it to aonoy Mr». 
Wilmslow, who bates me. Or KUppose that I am a belter Chris- 
tian tlitm that, aud try lo render gowl for evil, by alluring Ut-nry 
Wilmslow to leave his wife and children to tbeir own quiet avoc»- 
tions, instead of worrying tbem with bis vile ill temper aud viler 
g<H>d tcnipvr. Or suppoM; thai he has assurud his life in my 
favour, and I want bioi to break bis neck that I may gel ujr 

" The last sujiposition is not impossible," said Bernard, noi 
over-pleased with Uie Kutra tone of banter, and desirous lo throw 
iu a shot ia return. 

" No,'' Baid Lord Rookbnry ; " but it is not ihe right one aAer 
all. You know tliat 1 did myself the honour of propi>»irig lo Mi^s 

** Your Lordahip intimated, one oveniug, iliai you bad done sa" 





" Sftft man. Cut jroiir own spocinl rnnfidanle, Mrs. Wilnrniloir, 
tuld yoa si> herself, am\ nii^lililv clfplorfl that such a \vickt.*d 
per»un as I am nhoulil havu vikvu eiich a hburly." 

** You were pleciwd t*> foUuw it up by n ipreaicr one, raj lord,** 
iaiti Uernard, "vrhich cost lao some imrd ridiDg." 

" Surely you do noi gnulge the iroulilc which made you such a 
hero in the eye* of ihc Asi>en Court ladies. That (tnlloping up 
and delivering lheu> from the rabhk thfv consider the most tna^tni- 
ficcDt f<-al vwr liciinl til', i think liiilo Auiy hiu^ luadu n hallad 
ID which yoQ are cum])ared to Si. Cicorge ovurthrouing the dragon, 
lliu baluuce uf glory being rather in your fuvour. By tfa** way, 
yon ihrcaiened ihc ringleader in that brutality with your rengeanca 
and my own, united, aud told bim he should be ruiDed and Urano- 

" 1 dans my 1 did," said Culyon, **&r 1 was in a reckless 

" Bui yon ought always to kuep yoiir promiseB to tho humbler 
^ela»tcs/* Bjiid ihc Karl. " It is a doty wo owe them to set an ex< 
ample of adherence lo truth. Aft yon proinified in my name, I 
considered that 1 was Lcund tn »>e that ynur engagement was ful- 
Bllrd, and the pzciloble tuU-bamster is at pre»etic under sentence 
of irnn.sportation.'' 

" i le w as a great rufTiiiu, certainly," said Bernard, " but after tlio 
cbasliBement I inflicted, I meaul lo have- dune with him." 

" N«rer do things by halves. Ak mud as I lieard Uie dory, I 
set a lawyer to work — not my solicitor, of conrH<, he goes to 
cbnrch, and spraks at roinKinniiry meelingK— but a struggling 
felluw with a tainted rianio, whuM- devotion to a titled client would 
make him stick at nothing. 1 did not avk any queslions, but [ 
lancy that certiin publicuns, who nnturally loved our friend for 
■elling liquor without a licence, were intcresletl in inquiring among 
,tAfir clients into his defect* ; and if 1 say that a rerj- abusive ex- 
ciseman tvati Hct u|ion him, and that he was incensed into a savage 
onslftUKht upon a queen's officer, I fancy I am only tmciug iome of 
Uie 8t*5|is by which Wr. Attorney SliviT ennicii his guerdou. You 
nny be Kiirc that on the trials ctiilence of the genlkonan's gcnern] 
ominbilitv was not wanting, and it so happened that I dined in ilio 
company of the judge who tried liim.and incidenlally bronghl out 
the anecdote of bis behaviour to the Miiw Wilmslows. His lord- 
ship, of course, could have no judicial knowledge uf this fact, but 
he happens to have datighter? \vb<>ni he worships, and I fear pi)or 
'Bonuiud^- was no belter ulf for hta judge's recollection of my im- 
proving converMltion over night. So 1 hare saved your credit. 
llowerur, to speak of pluasanter people, why <lon't you ask afier 
the family f or do you hear so regtdoily that you have no need of 
any inlonnation r" 

'*1 huiv beard iiuthing from Aspen Court for a loug lime," said 

*• Theseus hna abandoned the Ariadnes of Aspen, eh ? " relumed 
Lord Ruokbiiry. '* Still you will be glad to know that, despite youV 
devertion, two of the three voung ladies are as well, and look as 

z 2 




well ns ever. But a& for the third''— «nd Ibe EurT spnk? mn^ 

"Kale?" said Carivon, imoluulnrilv, 

Kale is the second," said Lord Kookbury, compose 


: secon 
knoiv bvBt rrUy ^'ou should instioctit'ely 

dly. *'You 
w uvBi rruv you siioum insuocut'eiy suppose thai Kule had 

Carlvnn did know best, but be did not know what to BAy, and 
the Karl did not help bim. After a pause, Ilemard said. 

"I hope nothing is seriously the nialter with poor little Amy." 

*' I fear,'* siiid l^ord Houkbur)', ** ihiit the poor child is noi loog 
for tliiR world." 

"What! Amy," exclaimed Hemard, much shocked. "That 
sunshiny little face 1" Ho slopped to hear more. 

" A cloud has come orer that sunshine," said theF.arl, iit a lone 
of real feeling. " iind I doubt whether a darker f^hadnw bo not 
approaching ihstor than is helievcd at Aspen Court. [ have seen 
some sad businexs in uiy time, Carlynn," he continued, "and 
there is nut much that I i>ced a physician should tell ine. But a 
physician will have lo tell a cruel story lo poor dear Mrs. Wilm- 
slow before long." 

" 1l will kill fier," said Carlyon, in a low voice. " She is the 
best moiher in the world, and is devoted lo all llic girls, but little 
Amy she idolises." 

*' And I will tell you why," said Lord Uookbury, once more 
speaking in the calm voice* of one who analyses a subjicl, but 
without sympalby. "Thai child was bom just us the dream tliat 
Henry Wihnslow was nnythiug but a selfish profligate came in an 
end. Amy is the link beiwien her mother's happines** nnd her 
de.solation. 'Iliat link Vi about In be broktm, but Afrs. Wiliuslnw 
has too strong a sense of duly to lot her heart break with the 

Carlyon listened with much surprise, as Lord Rookbnry uttered. 
these sentences. Bernard had never beard him give so much 
proof ihat he could appreciate a woman's iinture or her goodness. 
That evil oUl man, whi) had walked in his reckless way over the 
world's best gnrdens, he h:«l, then, sometimes uwued the beauty of 
the dowers he had snatched and ca^t away. More often, porhapSt 
tlian the vouoger man imagined. 

" I behevQ that yun arc right/' said Carlyon, who bad always 
done justice to the noble nature of Jane Wilmslow. " I believe 
tlinl you are right," he repeated. *' She will live for her other 
children. U'hat is it that has fastened upon poor Amy ?" Tears 
came to his eyes as he spoke, fur worhUwoni and ambitious as he 
was, there was a place in Bernard's heart for some who wero 
neither, and he had kept little Amy there. 

" It is, as you will have 8U)fpo9ed, consumption," said the Earl. 
" But it is most probable tliat she woubl have Ktrengtheued, and 
have mastered the disease, but fur a fatal shoik which you will 
well remember, and which, prostrating her, left hrr helpless loo 
long CO give liopc that she could again resist the old enemy. 

"The rright— the skeleton— the day ahu first entered' Aspea 



pea I 



Court," snid Caribou, the scene recurring to bim witli painful 

" Ave, llic (rc&k of that m&A clerjjvmaTi has stnick down Amy 
Wilnisluw/' Kaiil ihe Karl. " i Wliove," hv added, savugvly, " that 
out! hafi till' coiiMiUtion of knowing Uiat no curse one could dcvisu 
coim -ft up to wliat be suffers already, or it irould be a sin to speak 
of bim witbout au execration " 

" lie is irresponsible," said Carlyon, wiib a pitying n colK'ction 
of Kustace Trevelyan, and It inav bC) softened by another recol- 
lection — that he bad met bim iu tbe society of Lilian. 

" Nobody is irresponsible, sir," said the Karl, relapsing into one 
nf bis H-ayward fils. " Amy Mill die, and that inan will have 
killed her, and I wish it wen- left to me lo settle whether lii.i stari- 
mg and whimpering .should nave his neck fruuj the gulloHS." 

Carlvon did not deem ihi-s oiiihreak worth a reply, and [x>rd 
llookburr, incensed, mended matters with another. 

*' Or if he is irrusi>onsible," said the Karl, '* his respoubibility 
must be transferred to somebody else. There arc a pricitL and a 
niece, I understand, who have charge of him. Where wore they, 
when he was dcvi&ing ih it infuiuuus ']cui The death of pour 
Amy is chargeable unon tlic beads of thai priest and of the girl/' 

*' Yon talk atrocious folly, and you know it, Lord Rookburr," 
said Carlyon, with bis face in a Qaxae at this reference to Lilian. 
** It woidd bo eTen more reasonable to lay the poor child's fate to 
your ungentlemanly conduct in detaining her arid her sisters at 
Kooktoo, and exposing them to the rul1iani;Bm you were buasting 
yon had punished." 

It was, we know, one of this strange old man's characleristicB, 
that in the midst ufone of bis vilc»t tempers lic cuuld he suddenly 
brought to bis senses, if the individual whom be assailed confronted 
biro «ilh an audacity like liis own. It was not Uiat be was in 
.the BligbtcKt degree cowed, but he liked to see self-assertion. His 
tune immedintt-ly altered. 

** r should be very, very sorry lo think «o, Bernard. The 
detaiuing ihem at my house was a whim, but it did no more than 
a rainy evening would have done, and on the whole, 1 believe tbey 
Were mure amused than annoyed." 

**'l'hcir mother reganled the affair differently," said Bernard, 

" And under what impression ahe did to, you know best," re- 
torted Lord Kookbur}'. "1 am indebted tu yuu for having led 
Mrs. Wilmslow to bcbe^-e that I had invited her daughter to a 
house where someWdy's presence implied contamination, you 
being well aware, not only that I am incapable of such an out- 
rage upon ordinary decency — (I don't speak of monds, I have 
no morals, and never pretended to any)— but yon, 1 say, know- 
ing perfectly welt that the only person, not n uieuial, living at 
Uookinn U'oods, was little Lurlinc, whom, moreover, I took 
especial care that they should not see." 

** Vonr lonlship utterly mistakes and misstates the c&fSf' aaid 
Bemanl. "1 never exchanged a word with Mrs. Wilnulow on 


e mmet -msK m. Aiokxim, and theii 

^ :&■ pnicw awaiuiop that I 

W dhs i^ tadj in Uie 

■li hU kr of all soils 


bctler of Tou, 

Of cowK it was that 

wife's bead with 

'£ "■ 'i.i ^wsfFnw^ %^ THi^riuw i-^^^ af ■■cb inrention," 
Tmiiiii 3H(dv. 

- V. !- L~ «d ri» ZmL mnaanm^ ^Of eevse I maj bare 
n9Hcx Txraef tt -e^Qme sih wi« M &i iA Am* cane ioto my 
j»*L TIB II -nm ioni^ jt mw n jafc«« iSr awl nagentleman- 
^ne :o Limu -x. ?:aF jk ^Bmi 'TC «MBf Sfc woald be destrored 
'J a. "eskrw -vse -31 'tp « misaiKiu iff v maA a^vmt you the fic- 
iMitm- -rj^ rjmDtnvx m- b» •Hiusuiiiunmc* 

- "V~? ■•'cc ^naicnir if » zrtp-er iiaiii 1 "^ swrf C arit o u . "Settiog 
iKue T3ate<'>fr 1^ smr'imett qbw mn* I wA jvar lordship 
wht:«b«r J 3K*-nc3i aan -s 11 tfZnnntin* at Aspca Court? " 

■* Nil."' ■*a»t Ljm l<«Kb«ir*'. ■* j^r Jfr*. WllHuluHr does not seo 
an; i«ii?!r — ir as* -^^il 3«it ?nKr if^^^if M befie«i that she sees 
it Of .-jiir«e. I ■«CTin™r -rFurit 3ur»3T itr*T9e it. ladeed. han!ened 
.K- i nn 3.' 'jtu^ ftner ^M-niif's s^omesw I wj^d saoner suffer some 
TvrHJuui jon 'zian znocrpr :im ^isk. cc* cn-aki^ Ae wiatter to 

~ Y-et 3C TuuTM tij be (i-Tw."* «ai*£ Bermrd. voaniglT. " And 
t6««. ^' cttrr? «a«jaiu be a caoace cc <a«^« ber. and ve tbroir that 
co-JBOt iwa* — "* 

"■1 3a»w trhMK^ '7f tktt"' «ai*i ti»e Eari. '*Bo* I teD too % 
Tmirv. P^raar-i- uac t ci^tr-.-c ja-i wiH cot &« that woman, who 
>js "j»;«i cvateii iTinwa j» hihSy in tb? worfd as erer created 
woMii w**« aoii Bed Ii.;r rituS acotSKr W-jw i« to descend upon 
Srt-- I iuw"^ mkrui a wmaoa's orriaa:, and diDerng to one, and 
T-.'i»-a; iijac '.-ne's crit;hT will kiS ber. and all that — I hare seen 
t.x^ Bitnra }i t< — fb<v vosiIt it » f:t np. and bow I'tttle it has to do 
"r.iz ±ii\r'nir hox ser seufeboe-ss : bat I will not, at mr time of 
It^. viIImm'T ■axvrr.^ the actoal sofierin^ of looking at the qaietly 
borne a«o"T. wh'ca I liwfsee will soon be read in Mrs, WiJmsIow's 
£acv. Daaii vrv it I can, or ttiU, then,'' said Lord Rookbnrr, with 
unus-ual enphasis. 

IWmard. ve hare stea, bad little regard for his noble friend, 
and small belief in bis siDceritr, bat the tone and manner of 
Lord Rookburr made it impossible to doabt that for once be was 
giving utterance to bis feelings. 

" A friend of such a woman ooght to make any sacrifice o( his 
own comfort for her sate," said Bernard. "After what your 
lordsljp has said, I bare made up my mind." 

" You propose to go to Aspen Court, and inform Mrs. Wilmslow 



of ber child'* dsnj^. It wuiiM, no doub(, h« doing, I will not 
Mv a kiii<liiL-!i>i, bul fioiiK-ltiitig liigiicr. I tuiy, wmitfictv.tWy, Ber* 

rd, thai I lionoiir you for DiidorlaLing Llii& work. Will you 
^lake a buggettion from tuc?" 

** AsfturMllr." »id Ctrljron. 

" Let the \-)Mt answer two purposes. TaVe down with yon a 
fir8l-nit« phyician, but do not let him make hi« erraud knoirii 
until he tiat^, unohservcil. examined the })Qor child, aiid until 
}-oii hnvc prctiiirrd Mre. Wilmttlow. You mv. not in the highest 
favour uitli Witnifttuw hinisvlf." 

" 1 aiu happr to imy I am not.'' Kiid Upinard. 

" Kxaclly. Rut it in a» well to avoid unpleas.intne«i. Wilm- 
■low will ob(^y any dirccttr-nH from me ax implinitly an (he block* 
lead's nature will alluw. I will dvMTf bim to bu especially civil to 
you, nnd tn ynur cnmpnnion, who lins cnnic, by my dnsire, tn look 
■t Aipvn Court, fur reaftnns whivb Wilmklow will understand, or 
think he docs. That will ■L'cun; bim [H;rri:^ct CrL-cdum of action, 
and you can manage the rest. Does any parucular name occur to 
you as lliat of the man you would take doMii p" 

" I am rather iutimale with Rockbrook," said CorlyoD. " If be 
would ^o, he is precisely the man." 

'* Fooh— we'll make \m rcfniml imposBihlt^," said the Earl, op«n* 
ing a cabinet, and laking out a cbeque^book. *' He is a fiivt-rate 
fellow, and will do what auy sccouu'rate fellow would be afraid 
to do, nanwly, lend bimarlf to the Utile deception without fear of 
compromising his dignity." 

The Karl wruLn two cheques, one for a maguiScent fee, and the 
other for a smntlcr amount. 

"1'hat for Kockbrouk," he said^ showing the sum to Carlyou, 
"and this plense lo nae for expenses. Nay," he said, earneftl)}-, 
** you will confer a rcrv great obligation upon mo by letting m« 
fee] thai, though too great a coward lo do this myself, 1 have, in 
Romu degree, assioted you in doing it. Put it up, it is nni worth 
a second word. I suppose that you can Icare town to-uiorrow. 
Not befurc, because I think my letter to Wiliuilow should precede 
you — it will prevent his wife's Iwjing talien by surprise at your 
arrival. You bcMtntc as to that? Pray be frank, 1 fear that you 
have some good reason." 

It is not necessary to trace the exact line of thought which 
traversed llcmard's brain. What he luiid was, 

"It jiisl seems to mo an pos^nble that Mr. Wilmslow, regarding 
the pri)]Kised visil as one of busmen, might nut keep the young 
ladies nt home. I don't know whether ttx-y have made any ac- 
quaintance ui the immediate neighbuurhuod, but — " 

*'You are a very clever man, Bernard," said the Karl, ** and it 
is only my sge that gives me the advantage over vou. 1 have it^. 
however, at that price, And 1 sec what you mean, but will not say. 
1'liG second Miss Wtlmslow's pride has been rousod b? finding 
that, though she cares very much for yon, yonr atTeclious are 
placed elsewhere, and you think that ddicacy will scare her away 
wbcn slie hears tliat you ore coming, and that she will tako a 



sister with her. Now, my word for it, she viQ remaiu and cnn- 
frout jou." 

"At all cvenls," said Bernard, who was indiBjiDsed to priiloa;; 
the discussion, " I atii glad thai your lordship bas ulcartrr vicwH 
OD a curlaiu poiut than you had when I lirst visited Rookton 

" Not a bit clearer," said the Karl. " I told yon thcu that iho 
youny lady's heart wag yours — those were my word*. I see uo 
reason for n'lractiiig them. Yuu may marry her now if you like. 
It would please her mother — it would ccrtaiidy please herself; 
and RS for that blatant asa, who would be your esteemed father-in- 
law, he must do as 1 please. Only, if you do make tlie marriage, 
you must keep j'our wife out of llio Ft)ri«ler wft, iis 1 doubt 
M'hether Miss Kate and Polly Ma}*nard would altogether fraternise, 
or aororise, or whatever the word is." 

" 1 admire the case with which your lordship turns from a grave 
subject lo a light one," said C'arlyou, " but I cannot just now 
imitate it, fur 1 am sincerely grieved at what 1 liave buanl to-day. 
I will sec Rockbi-ook at once. 1 think I shall just be in dmc to 
catch him at St. Vilus's Hospital, where he viMta." 

" I talk as others think," said the Earl. " My dear young friend, 
we should all go mad in one day if we gave anything the continuous 
attention whirh it is deemed decorous lo nfl'ecl in speech. You 
might as well try to keep the eye filted for half an hour, as iho 
'briun, and lucky for us that it is so. ilroach that theory to the 
students at SuVilus's, and good bye." 

Rut Carlyou recurred very often, during the rest of that day, to 
the bright face and fearless eyca of poor little Amy, and thought 
sadly of her merry laugh being hushed for ever. Some of us may 
bare thrown our hearts open to a little fairy of the kind, and she 
has dwelt therein, saucily, am) as she picnsed; and one day we 
have learned that our fairy has become an angel — perhaps one 
mnrniur may be forgiven us where she is gone — but, most surely, 
those who harv loved the cbilt) will forgiru it in one another. 





Most of the misfortunes of our lires arc of our own making, an 
old truth, illustrated in the position in which we left Mr. Paul 
Chci|uerbent at tliu chisu of the last chajiter of his history. 
Wilhuut duelling upon the undertaking in which he hod engaj^ed 
himself, and which Wiis nuL likely under any circumstances to lead 
lo an honourable or prjfitahle result, so far as Paul was concerned, 
tliu Tcry last steps which he had taken mfttcrially conduced to 
render his overthrow more disastrous titan it would otherwise have 

H(! had closed the street door of the house, and h'ld thereby 
excluded ilic poller, tialtou. Ami he had lied by the leg, to an 



armchair, the only olhcr ptrson in the plact*, except hiniBclf. Hi« 
own precautions, iherelbw, increased the chances against him.anj 
when the creature Ihat had occupied the (ttrong-roc>ni dashed forth 
upon him, and hroiighl him to the ground, his situation hecaine 
perilouf) in the extreme, and the recollection that he was beyond 
Lall aid, came upon him so pim-i'dully as, in combination with the 
F'frifrht, to deprive him ol'coMseifiuttiiefiK. 

There were doubtlijxs many very bad things in that lawyer's 
ttrong-room, but there was nothing quite bo ovil att Paul, in the 
few mmnenta between his opening tlie door and being thus pro- 
strated, had, ]ierhap8, belicrcd. Those who have done us the 
honour to read this nairutive from the com men cement, and whosu 
patience aiul forbearance will ere lon^ be rewarded in a marvellous 
manner, will remember our mcntinning that Mr. Molc^worth 
had a partner named Pcokridne, wbi* resided at Norwood, 
and there kept a menagerie, wherewith hu frightened himself 
and his neighbours. Mr. Pcnkridgo used to haunt the docks 
.and other quarters where he was likely to pick up additions Co 
ihiK collection, and used, of course, Ui he fearmlly cheated by guile- 
less sailors who had brought orcr the animals as pets, sailors 
who never made a voyage in their lires, and who bought for' 
triRing prices, of country showmen, creatures for which the 
confiding Hcnkridgc was happy to pay formidable sums. It 
was an edifying sight to see the mild, neat Mr. Penkridgo 
seated upon one of the narrow hard boards which serro for H>'ais 
in the hotels of Raielitli; Highway, and surrounded by four or five 
dirty, craAy, crimp-like fellows, the party lisleiiing — Penkridge all 
fiiith, tlie confederutes with approval — to a clumsy yam (ouehiug 
the capture of the animal which the ai'omey was just then buy- 
ing. Few of Mr. Punkridge's quadrupeds ha<l, according to the 
sellers, killed less than six or seven men ; and the aggregate 
slaughter which the united menagerie must have committed 
lamoug hi'1)iU:<i<i natives and gallant officers in ihc Queen's and 
Company's ser^-ice was frightful. His last piuxliase, however^ 
that of a striped hyena— budc lair, as we have seen, to deserve a 
ferocious reputation ; though, as it hap|H.'ned, thjs had been 
bought on the strength of iis genileness to its owner, the gentle- 
man whom Paul had tied by tlio leg. Mr. Fonkndue bail pur- 
chased il too late in the day to receive it at Norwood, and a 
happy idea had suggcbtud it^ietf (or its lodgment in the meantime. 
7'he keeper, under whose ere and short iron slick il was reallv do- 
cile, had been brought to the ofhce, to be received for the night, 
and dispatched with his interesting charge to Norwood in the 
moniitig,and the porter coneeired tbe notion that the strnng-rmun 
would be a capital place of security for the beast. GuUon had 
showu much utteulion to the plebeian Van Amburgh,Bnd had gono 
forth on hospitable thoughts intent, when Mr. C'heqnerbeni's ill for- 
tune led him to the door of tlic mansion. It is sad to tliink, too, 
Uiat Mr. Oultr>n*5 Kindnesa was not well rewarded ; for, on thai per- 
[Bun's returning with the materials fur Kapper,and finding the door^l 
vhich he had left ajar, closed nguinU him, he had no resource but 




knocking. In this he h&<\ to persovpre for a lonR time in rim 
but Rt l«$t (lie iK)i<«e arousfd tho wUd-bea^tt man. who, Ktariing up, 
wrafi hroui^ht to liie t!n>niKl, chair and all, by Paul's donee. As 
soon as he could extricAtf! himself, which process he asnaied by 
a aeries of cbtnce conimiDationn, he bluaaerud tu ihc door, ana 
cpeuiiig it, he admitted the person wliom Jic Hiipposrd to have 
played a practical joke npon him, and with oni.- ircll-delivered bh)w 
floored his aMoni^hed host. Thu two men wrangled and quarrclh-d 
for some tioie; but at len);th the tnitli dawned ufKin ihotn that a 
third partr must ha%'e minuted in the business; and search being 
toade, Paul naft found, to their great eoDSteroatioii, lying Bcnscle«s 
in the distant office, the hyena, which had abandoned him after the 
first bilis croitchinj^ on a shelf, amid old declarations, and pleas, 
and other fangs of its relatives, " the furred law cats." l*anl was 
reowred tollie j'orter's bed; and as soon as the othcni had arranged 
the bischood by which the ]>orter'8 abandonniinl uf biit post was 
to be screened, a surgeon was fetched. Mr. ('hcquetbent was ftoon 
restored to coiiwiousness ; but the wounds ho had recnired were 
Hrrious, and would probably, the doctor thought, be attended by 
violent indaniination. Ouiet and constant care were pronounced 
nbMilutely necessary ; and, after some deliberntion. the aristocratic 
Panl Chequerbcnl, whose own bcwildrmient luft him small roica 
ia the debate, was actually reuioved to ^t. Vitus's Hospital. 

His reception at that establishment was sontewhai more agree* ■ 
able than be had ex)^ected ; for he had some uneasy misgivings 
Wst the whole forces of the hospital, including three or four duc< 
Mws of gnu WeM Knd repute, would l>o turned out to welcome 
Imt* and that bis misfortunes, as retailed by the latter, would 
fcrabh a theme lor the conrersution of the metropolis. But 8l 
Viins's did not ofipear to share in Mr. Chrquerbent's estimate of ' 
bis o<nt importance ; and aAer a brief examination by the house- ■ 
mmcn. wbo ciM&tnBd the ritw of tbe medical man first called 
ik, Paul waa wsiitiA lo tbe " Galen Ward," and deposited in one 
of »ixlc«« SMttB, OKl^alats, rloanly-lookiug beds which stood in 
rro iu«« ia ike fbnMl* Ttllow>wiilled ehaniber; the whole pro> 
f iJti. I^Ei>C pl"t<' in the nio«t quiet manner, and the ofliciaU 
artii^ a« coa^oavdly as if they were hi the habit of seeing aristo* 
vnts ealMi bv hraoast Tlie faard-fsced nurse garo Paul ratlier a 
krw |E(aK<t. WMC^ w*s ptubably soiisfactory, for she proceeded to 

Cy hia* wH «a]j tbe orditum' atteutiocn »he oned to a patient, 
a otbcvs by BO BMBM of Tontiite, and which credible witncsseB 
MOM* oi iW boafttia) iMnaa rmerrrs for those who have the power 
aiHl the will to be gimtvAll. Air. Chequcrlient, indeed, aware of 
Uu* peculiarity, took an np{K>rtimity of apprising her that he was 
k goitlnMin ; smI vm somewhat comforted in his affliction by her 
amnrillg Uau with a smile, tliat ther*- was no need to tell her that. 
Moivov«r, tbe Galen Ward happened at that time to be about half 
emmr, and out of the ^evcn or eight other patienis only one bad 
an uupleaMut peculiarity. 

Id tlie iilooin of ibe wanl, Paul had ample leisure for appro' 
priatc meditation, and he repeatedly addressed himself to review 










in rerwjt adrenlnren ami pencral position ; bnl wm diverted from 
a (liyjpuM-iunal*' ^u^^l■y linTfuf bv llie continual recurrence of irri- 
taitng fu-elingft uhoncrcr Carlyon and Angela became (he Bubjoct 
of hi» t)iou((hl«. Finatlv, he resolved to send for Uc>'U'oodr 
tmd explain that he had been (ronndcd tn nndcavonrinff to dis- 
charge the priesL's bidding; and Rhonly after forming thia Teso- 
lutioii, be lell into an unea^^y 6leep. 

lit? was wiiKeiied, after a coii|))c of boiirs, by feelinf; hanria tra- 
reniing his penmn tiglilly from head to foot^ panning at inten-als 
in their cnur)>d. Arotuitnit himitelf, be conhl make out, by the 
dim light burning in the ward, that a rcry tall figure, in white, was 
sunding by hia bedside. Hpfore he could tiltcr a. word, Uic figure 
bent down and irbiKpercd, earnestly, — 

" Don't itpeak, sir, or you'll be diimppointed in your order." 

" "WliHt order ? — what are you udking nboni ? — who arc you ? — 
and what do you wanif" demandt;d I^uu), in ibe agitation of one 
who ia auddenly roused. 

^ Ilitsh, sir; pray do," said ibe'fignrc, looking round with much 
apprehension. " I've measured 'cm all but you, and I sboubl l>e 
Ter^' aorry to disappoint a gi^nllcman." And by ilua time Paul 
could SCO that hia companion was o cadarerousdooking man, who 
held a tu-o-foot rulp in ht» band. 

** Five ten 1 made yon, sir ; but, to be comfortable and correct, 
we *ll go orer it again." And, before Paul could remonstrate, 
the rule glided along bis body, Lbe measurer pausing at the feet* 
and ap|>arently considering irheiher he Khould allow anything 

*' We'll say six, sir, Bnyhow," said lbe man. ** Co]>per nailsi 
shields, and handles, of course. And what vrill you pleuMi to have 
in ihe: inscriptioD i When did you obiit ?" 

** When did I do what?" said Paul, believing himself listening 
to the nonseiMC of a dream. ** Obi it — what's that? Obi, or 
Thrr« Fingered Jack," be muttered. " But 1 must be asleep ; 
and yet I am not either ; and tbi« fellow is real," be addod, giring 
the man a push. 

•' Obiit is Latin, air, IVo heard," whispered the man, in a 
humble lone. 

** And if it is," said Paul, incensed, " you need not come to 
one's bedside tu the middle of iJio night to tell one that. Ite off 
with you ; 1 believe you are mad." . 

** I have bad that fuiid lo me many a lime, n'w* said llie man, 
still %*ery humbly ; " but it makes nn odds whtm I know quite diC 
fereni. Will ynu be pleased to name yt^ur date, sir, and it shall be 
put in eorreel." 

** WhatdaiOf confound yonJ" said Paul, sitring op in bed in 
it wratb. 

Nay, sir, nay, that don't took well," said the other, laying Pnnl 
boek, and keeping him straightly slrelcbed out. " There, sir, 
that 's the way we should lie." And with bis hand on Mr. Cbe- 
querbcnt's chest, the other held him down, despite bis struggles, 
but continued to address bim deferentioUy. 


" U rou would only mention ibe date, sir, I could be going 
about my work." 

" What date, once more F" demanded Pan!, fiiriouslj*. 

" When you was pleoiied to die," said the other. " I hare 
measurod you, and you shall have u home any time you please to 
appoint. Here's my card, sir. They call ub extortionate, but 
yuur respected executors will have no reasuii to complaiu of my 

'* A madman— a madman," tdiouted Paul, nearly frightened out 
of bis senses. " Here, take him away — lock him up — manacle 
him, somebody." 

But llio monifut he raised his roicc, the other, with the cunning 
of insanity, threw himself on the Uoor, and crept away so rapidly 
to his own bed, tlial tlie drowsy eyes of the nurse, who was 
awakened by Paul's slioutinfj, failed to delect his movements. 
Paul's explaimlioiis tu her wi-re received iudnlf^ently — more iudul- 
^'Uiitly than a plebeian patient's would have been under similar 
circuniatonccs; but she evidently disbelieved bis slorj-, and 
smoothing the bed*clotbcs, told him to go to sleep asrain. (or that 
he bad bad nu ugly dream. Jo please him, she walked ruuud the 
ward; but if one niau was more fni^i asleep tbaii another, il was 
the individual who had, as Mr. Cbcqncrhent asiierted, come to hia 
bedside. He was, in fact, snoring. I-'inding the nurse not only 
incredulous, but indiKposed to cuniust tlu-qut'Cition, Paul requested 
her, for bis comfort, to place near his band a small thin poker 
which he had observed in the ward; and tliis she did, remarking, 
as if be ha»l been a child, — 

"" There 'ft iUi pretty poker, then. Il shall beat the hobgoblins, 
il shall. NoM- go to sleep." And the good advice she gave, 
she speedily proved that ^hc was not above taking. 

Paul, as soon as she was gone, quietly look the poker, and 
concealed it, on his ri^ht band, under the bedclotbi.'S. He then 
waited ilic further movements of the man who bad disiurbefl bitn. 
This watch was long, for the cunning of the other prevented bis 
moving a fmger for upwards of an hour. Then, he rose slightly, 
and looked steahbily round the ward, and at last, stealing from 
his bed, he proceeded lo repeat what he had probably done 
before approaching Paul. 1'he latter could !>ee him gbding from 
bed lo bed, aud tulently measuring the inmate of each — as Ibr bis 
cofBn— noting on a card the result of each calculation. Bnl 
though be looked wistfully at l^aul's bed, he seemed lo hare 
an instinctive fear of again attempting lim otiertition from which 
he had been scan^d, and dually he returned to his own couch. 
Weary with pain, Paul at lenglb could keep walcb no longer, 
and again he dropjvcd off into slumber, this lime heavier iban 
the last. The maniac, unsatisfied, was more wnkefid, and 
just before dawn, be resolved on u renewal of bis attempt. Again 
Paul, in his shiep, fell the measuring rule traveniing him, but he 
could not rouse himself to give tlic alarm or the coup he had 
nie(litat'--(l. The man compk-t'-'d li is work, and as he did so, he 
detected the poker lying beaide Paulj who was suflicienily disturbed 




to be ablf? to hear him diiiIUt a curse fipon the carelessness of the 
<M-xtoit, who hnd left one of Ink tool» Ivitif! about. He then stole 
iiway. S'hortly atturwards the nurse made her round, and I'aul, 
CDiDpletoly u'ukcued by her treail, called her to the bed-aide, and 
mid, in a whisper — 

**Nqw. niirrie, will you believe me? That fellow has been 
here again, and has taken away the polter, and has got it in his 

I'umin^t: suddenly, the nurse's eye caugiit a slight movemenl 
in lh<> conch of tlie ntlier man. 

'* Pooh, pooh ! dreaming again,'* iihe Raid, lond enough to be 
heard by the monomaniac. "It is nearly morning — get one more 
sound steep Itcforo the light comes in ; and don*t talk any more 
nonsense. Nobody has been awake except yourself." She then 
placed u fingiT on Paul's lip, ami retired. 

In a few minutes three staln'art servaniR of the hospital entered, 
wearing list s)ip)>crs, »o that a rootfall might not be heard. Tliey 
proceeded rapidly, and as by preconcert, lt> the bed of llie maniac, 
and btTore he could offer the slightest rebalance, be wag in the 
stringent embrace of a siraii-\i'aisicofit ; hi» legs were strapped 
togflher, and be was home away. He uttere<l no cry, but just 
as he was conveyed tlin)ugh Uiu door, he &aid in a loud, but 
respectful tone— 

*' Vou see, genllcnicq, tliat it is not my fault, if you should not 
gel your coffins in lime." 

** We could have no idea that he was in that sort of way," 
said tlie iniFKB to Paul. " He was always quite quiet, and look 
his medicine YtW a lamb. Hr was in the nndcriitking lino of 
business. But pntting one thing and another together, 1 shouldn't 
wonder, now, il' he bado't been uioasuring the ward tor their cufiius 
ever}' night for the lasl three weeks." This was an unguanled 
admission for the vigilant lady to make, hut Paul did not draw the 
nnlural inference from it. 

*' I see his hand more," she continued, " hut of course I didnH 
pretend to, becnuso them lunatics is an anful, and lie might 
have done u» all a niitichief it he had known he wa« (vatclied. 
Bui our people know pretty well how to manage, and we didn't 
loM much time, sir. I haven'l found the poker, though." 

Search was made, bul the instruuienl was not discovered until 
the morning, tvhcn it was found under tliti inaUrc^Ks of tiie pa- 
tient, who.'v bed adjoined that of the madman. It must ha^c 
been the motion of liis anu, alter phicing the article whert; it 
could not readily liear witnef4 agaiui^t Iilui, thai cuuglit the eye of 
the attendant. Paul, even in his trouble, was a litlte amused at 
the report made next day to the medical geatleineu, and at tlie 
extreme care with which the nurse invited attention to the fact 
that, having liad her Kuspicions of the condition of the patient, 
bul not liking to charge him hastily with being umd, she liod 
made him the object of her $edulou» watch, night afUT night, and 
on Uie first unmii^tiikablc symptoms had taken steps far the pro- 
lection of her oUicr charges. Bnl her chftrgei knew better than 



to inralidate her claim to the praiBes of Llie medicBl stafT, for as 
Paul put it, ** No lA^n.t nana, when not in a corpnre iuiho, maVcs 
ail enemy of Llie person wliu has his corpw al Ikt mercy." 

It was i>iie or iwo tIavK afler l)iU tbat Carlyoa, Ifai-in^ Lord 
Roolibury, hastened to .M.Vitus's Hospital to liecure ihe services 
of Mr. Kockbruok. As hu waited in Urn ball, llie priest, Iley- 
wood, caniR d»ivn, parsed him with a slight bow, and went out. 

" Has he been confessing some Catholic paiicnt?" said Car- 
lyon lo Mr. Rockbrook, »bu followed Ueywood. 

*' No,'' said Rockbrook, " he came to see a young feUow wiiU 
an od»l name, who met with an odd accident. Exchcqtierby — no 
— but it is suuiolliiiiK about tlie exchequer, too. What's that 
name in the Galen Ward, the hyiEna bile, Warren ?" 

" Chcqueibcnl," said Uie dresser, who was in allcodancc on his 

** I never heard of more than one person of that name," said 
Cariyon, '* but il can hardly be he. Can I see him, when we have 
spukvn ? " 

Ilic visit to Aspen Cncrt was speedily arranged, Air. Rock- 
brook, a man of decision as well ns of skill, inking jusL ihree 
minutes to consider wbetlier he could be spared from town, and 
announcing the result by detailing Cariyon to meet liim at tho 
mail train next evening. As he took the cheque, he said, 

'* Tliis « ouUl be too much by half, but jour friend tlie Earl 
cheated mc out of about tlie halunco leu years ago, when I bad 
attended a lady specially recommended to mc by him. I suppose 
this is conscience money, and he is pleased that be has had thn 
interest in the mcanlime." 

" Much his way," said RemBrd. " But don'l let rac detain vou. 
I should like to see the {salient, liowever, because if he is mg 
Chi'()uerbent, lie will he f<hid lo «ci' lue." 

RuL Ik'mard mistook, for Paul was not at at) glad to see him, 
and looked so sulky — he fancied that be was being tlignified and 
reserved — that Cariyon could not understand llic catie. Paul 
would give no accoiuil of the accident, would accept no service, 
and begged that .Mr. Ciirlyuu would not consume his valuable 
time in visiting .in hospital. 

"This is all nonsense," said Bernaid, as soon as he bad marlc 
out tliat Paul was really olVcndcd « ith him. " Somebody has 
been setting you against me. That won't do. I appeal, point 
blank, to yunr own gentlemanly nature, and ask you whether ibe 
terms on which we hiive Uved Justify you in quarrelling with mo 
without telling mc why. Come, Paul, treat mc fairly, and then 
be as haughty as yon please." 

The word was well chosen. Paul had wished to appear 
hsuF^hty, and as his haughtiness was acknowledged, down he 
cnme from his pedestal. 

" I don't deny it, Cariyon," he said, " thai you have odea acted 
a rriendiv part i>y mc. Rui if you cannot sec that yonr proaent 
ennduci'bas cancvllud forever all kindly memories, I despair of 
■onvincing you." 



" \ly dear fellow," snid Bcraard, *' nerer use portentuns wordA 
unlJl you arc quite sure tlu-y arc dcfte-rvc<1. And first tell tne 
what you mean by my presoni conduct." 

" Vi)U caiiiKit douiit my uioainng, Carlyon. I wish to absLain 
from introdiicinj>; the name of a lady iulo our quarrel." 

"Wc liare no quarrel yel, 1 U-ll you," said Uernard. " Bat as 
my coiiAcience entirely acquits uie of e\vx doing or aaying any- 
thiii){ u'ith Ttifcrcncc to ooy lady which could give yon uneasiness, 
I am afraid 1 must ask you for ber name.*' 

'* Do YOU mtran to deny," aaid Paul, " that yoo bare certain 
matrimonial projects?" 

" On the conirar)-," aaid Carlyon, '' T meaa to afiirm the fact 
most strenuously. What U your reason for du^ring tliat i tihrtuld 
continue a bachelor ? Have yon discovered that 1 am your cld«r 
brother, or anylbiiig of that kindf Vou aball be none tho worse 
by my marriiige." 

" lion'i maljc a joke of it, Carlyon,*' said Paul. " I shall be a 
great deal (he woree by vour wnrriajje." 

*' I wonder why," Kniil Bernard, slowly, and in an amused tone. 
** You cannot well be the lady's unju:;t guardian, whom I am to 
cat] to account — I don't know, though — perha|>s you may be. 
You never aaw her — possiUy ibat is another proof of your neglect 
—yes — " 

" What do yoo say ?^ cried Paul, sitting up in bed, and opening 
great eyes. " 1 never saw her? Arc yon uiad ?" 

** Do me a favour, Paul," said the other. ** Just took straight 
in my face, and pronounce to niu the name of the person yoa 
suppose I want to marry ; because I sec, very clearly, where you 

Paul was brightening up cnomioasly, but providentially bf 
remembered his dignity, and resiraiuod htiiiRclf. 

*' I had reason to believe," he said, iu a voice in which delight 
would make itself beord, despite his eudeavours, " that llie 
nobleman who has <Ioue you so many lavnnrs was goiug to do you 
another, and coDfcr upon you the hand of his uewly-foun<^ 

"What!" futid llenianl. Ungbing, "your friend, the pretty 
actress ? Thai wa« your notion ? ^lokc yourself easy. To say 
Dothing of the presumption of thinking to win against you, 
because in truth the thought uovor entered ray head, you mighl 
have gi^'f" >"c credit tor some regard for your feelings. 1 
do not think i ever showed myself very unmiiidful of them." 

"Vou have not, you have not," raid [imir Paul, who was rcadj 
to cri'. ** lint yon have lakeu such a load uff my heart." 

" Von werono wiser than you ou);)it to have been, when you let 
anybody lay it on, Alaatcr Paul. Who was ilf That Jesuit whom 
1 mrt down stairs V* 

" .Never mind who," said Panl. " It V all over- I am nry mucli 
obliged to you for coming to see me." 

** Thank your friend iIil' priest," said Bernard. "Vou ought 
to have sent for ue. But for iht merest accidtut I should uever 



have knoim that you were here. However, yon &re in first-rat« 
bands ; 1 will specially coumead you to Roclibrook, though that ia 
not necessary. And t>uw toll mv how yuu came to get biiten by 
the wild beast." 

" It is very simple," said Paul, coluuring. '* I opened the 
strong-room at the office, and the beast insiile flow at me." 

*' Hliy, what were the other fcHou-fi about, not to tell you that 
tho crt-aturu %vas there." 

"They were all gone," said Paul. "Tho hyaina,'* he added, as 
if desirous to get away from the other part of the utory, " was a 
lien' pet of IVokrid^e'it- So Galtou told me. after the accident." 

" Did you kimw the beast was there, then ? " 

*'Of course not. Do you thinic I should have been such an 
idiot ?" He stopped, foe it suddenly occuned to him that Carlyou 
had suggested a most capital account of the aSUir, and one too 
good to be destroyed. " Of course, I mean," he added, " I did 
not know tt was. a hyajna, or I should not have opunt^ the d»for. 
I thought, from its voice, that it was a dog of some kind, and auy 
dog I can easily quiet.*' 

CarlyoD had tw clue to the real story, but Bomething in VauVa 
maiintir convinced litiu that Mr. Cliequerhent was not speaking the 
exact tnith. 

*' Well," he said, "it is lucky that things are not worse. By the 
way, 1 did nut know Itial you v/an: acqiuiinted with Mr. Heywood. 
If you had gone to .\spen Court with me yon would have met him, 
but you preferred to go to a ball, and bo locked up. Uow did you 
iiiiiki' his acquaiiitanee?" 

" lie introduced liimsclf Eo me, at the Fortress, &* a friend of 
yours, and shoned me a good deal of attention," said Vni\. " I 
breakfasted with him ai his rooms/' 


*' The morning before the hymna affair." 

" It was then that lie pnl into your head tlie notion about me 
and Miss Livingstone?" said Bernard. 

" No, indeed it was not," said Paul ; which was true, for this 
had been done on the night before. 

" Paul," said Carlyon, *' one word, and you will pardon it, 
because 1 have, as you will admit, earned the right to-day to sin 
against you once and bo forgiven. 1 do not ask any questions, 
but Heywood wovdd not have invited you to breakfast if he had 
not intended to use you as a tool. Beware of him. If I made a 
guess at certain matters [ should pain yon needlessly, but all 1 say 
is— beware of that priest. ,^nd now — by Jove, bei-e is a lumd- 
somc woman — and coming to see you— and a young lady loo." 

Never was a disagreeable conversjilinn so agrecablv hrokt-n olf, 
for here entered our splendid friend, the Junoniau Mrs. Seliinger, 
with her full figure and bright durk eyes. But what of her, when 
another figure escapes from her protecting hand, and runs, half 
crjing, up to Paul, and calls him a wicked old thing for not 
sending fur her? O my Lady Anna, are tboee your Rookton 



Tub meeting of tlie Prince Consort of Eu^IrhcI and tlie Em- 
peror Nnpulcon tlie Third on the quny of Boulogne, vas certniuly 
ODc of the m09t remarkable events, as well ns the most iilriking 
aoeue, of our times. For the latter, it wrs one of the greatest 
triumjihs achieved by his race, a triumph of the poIiticiHii, not the 
warrior, but as much calculated to mise the Emperor in the 
ayes of France and of Europe as the buttle of AustcrUtz itself. 
Most fully was it due from England and her Prince to recognise 
the merit and the value of so steady snd seasonable an ally. 
Prince Albert felt so, and performed the duty he came upon with 
fmnkncss, as well as dignity. But there was in the Prince's 
bearing, at the same time, and in the e.\preasiuu of bia counte- 
nance, u gravity, a solemnity, and even a sadness, that evinced 
how much he felt the tricks thnt fortune had played French 
dyu»8tic«, niid which unnvoidcdly brought such a personage to 
be the guest of the Ch&teiiu d'Eu one season, and of the Cb&teau 
de Capccurc another. 

If the demeanour of the Prince was grave, that of tlio Emperor 
was much in cuntmst, and, indeed, very unlike himscif; for 
Louis Napoleon is in general calm and impassive, cold and 
scrutinising. On the present occasion he was highly pleased, 
and he showed his gratificBtion to the full. Instead of being 
calm, he whs cktc ; instead of being cold, he was mercurial, pro- 
fuse of attention and cordiality, iiut, indeed, he has always been 
more fnuik aud cordial in Ids intercourse with the Bnglinli thnn 
with hi* countrymen. Whoever wauted a proof of the sincerity 
of the Auglo-Freneh alliance iu the breast of the Emperor, had 
but need of seeing him at Boulogne. And Louis Kapoleon is 
Uie man to be » uarm friend or a biltcr enemy. 

There was as great a contriist between the suites of the royal 
and imperial personages, as between themselves. The Prince 
came with the war minister and commander-in-chief of England, 
vith the longest heads and the sharpest observers he could com- 
mand; with the exception of Drouyn de L'Huys, the Emperor 
had with him no one of more tmportiincc than an aide-dc-cnmp, no 
gcnerHl oflicer even, except old Schnim. The aim of the Eng- 
lish Court w.ns to make it appear a military visit. It wr.i at first 
planned that the King of the Bidgians nnd the King of Portugal 
should meet Prince Albert at Boulogne. But this would bavo 
had the appearance of a congress of Coburgs; and, to avoid it, all 
these personages chose different days of arrival, and took pre- 
vious epochs of departure.* The meeting was a mere one of 
officers. But the Emperor was the French gcncrolisaimo. It 

* The Belgian minUlry tcalgncd. In disspproTol of the Ling's n'sii to Bcmi- 
VOL. XXXVf. «. *. 


was he who comraHnded the c.imp, he who maaoeuvrefl the troops. 
No other French military notability was present ; therefore the 
informatioii which the English visitors acquired ranst have been 
derived from their own observation, or from the Emperor's 
answer. For there was no one else to question or to explain. 

If the French Emperor hsid the advantage in unity and con- 
eentration of intelligence and power, the English Prince and his 
followers showed far greater simplicity and dignity of costume. 
Napoleou the Tliird has a very chaste and sober livery for his 
servants, dark green. His Guards nrc not so fortunate ; they 
are clad in two of the most gaudy and ill-assorted colours that 
could be together, that is, iurguoiae blue and tie de vin red. 
There are reda and blues that go together, as artists will tell, but 
such colours as these swear at each other, as the French express 
-it. Notliing could be more beautiful than the uniform of the 
Cent Sui»se$ under the elder Bourbons, from which tlie idea of the 
Gent Gardes was taken. The latter are half cuirassier, half 
Colifichet ; and our Life Guards looked to great advantage by 
the side of them. 

Two hours after his arrival, the Prince proceeded to visit the 
nearest camp along with the Emperor. Napoleon's old camp at 
Boulogne, in the valley south of his column, was admirably chosen 
for shelter against any enemy from sea, but the bottom of the 
valley was damp. None of the old ground bus been occupied by 
the present camp or cimps, which have spread their canvas in full 
view of the sea. From thence the coast must look beantiful, its 
cliffs crowned with rows of tents, and a stirring population of 
soldiers amongst them. Tents are picturesque and romantic. 
The same cannot he said of the wattled huts, with which the 
Vrench soldier soon replaces these, and which remind one of n mili- 
tary colony on the banks of the Don or the Dnieper, instead of 
recalling id Be//e France. Still the Boulogne camp, as it is entered 
from Ilonvault, is pretty. The ChStenu of Honvault itself is 
fine. It is the most ancient of the region. And when Our Lady 
of Boulojjne was threatened by the English some centuries back, 
they flung her sacred image down the deep well of the Chateau 
de Honvault, as the safest sanctuary. About Honvault the huts 
have replaced the tents, but they arc ornamenteil with grassy 
seals, and here and there with a little garden, whilst pillars and 
basins, to serve the part of fountains, have been erected, and ^ve 
a more civilised vestige in the midst of the ranges of mud huts. 
Mrs. Stowe, in her book of travels, describes the splendid seat 
which was erected at Satory for the Emperor to sit and contem- 
plate the review. This, which Mrs. Stowe mistook for a seat, 
was the altar erected for the celebration of the mass. One not 
BO splendid, but in a far more commanding position, has been 
erected at Honvault, and forms one of its most striking objects. 
The c:imp of AVimereux aud that of Honvault are separated by a 
valley of sand, rescued from the ocean, in which Napoleon 
sought to form a basin. At high tide flat-bottomed boats might 
entet and get out. A part of the gte^t flotilla lay there, A 



more miserBble or desert place wiw not to be oeon. It is now 
K village xtreet, with several gny and soltdly-biiilt cafes,* rcstnu- 
rants of more doubtful charneler, niid other buildins^ for the 
authorities nnd nttendanta of the camp. A new bridge unites 
both sides of the rimlet. At ^Vimei'eux one cnti mnrk the dif- 
fereoce between the regiments who hnve been iu Africa, and 
tho»e of more indigon-jus Imbits. The former have ndopted the 
little Ion- tL-ut of the Arubs, whore half-a-dozen pentous crowd 
under cnnvas not two feet from the gronnd. The eooLiiig, the 
•ntlers, the whole n*pcct nud habits of these regiments differ 
from others ; though there arc uo Zouaves la the caoip, nil 
that eould be spared of tiuch soldiers having beca sent on more 
approprinte service to Turkey. 

There nre drawbacks tu the bcnutr and pictiircftqunness of a 
CBTDp — dniwbneks the same as those which mar the benuty «ud de- 
corutn of life, and which it is the great taste and merit of civiliaatiott 
to hide. It is astonishing with what art aud suocess we have suc- 
ceeded in hiding and putting out of the way the alauglitemge, nnd 
the sutlcnige. and the scwcmge. When wc recur with Roui- 
>enu to the Bimplicily of nature, we find a world of veiy simple 
and very nasty things, which sophistiented man gets rid of. A 
camp is, for souie things, more in a state of nature. And a camp is 
not all tents and uniforms, and regimental bauds aud gay reviews. 
Jt is, to be plfltD, a very dirty place, as well as a brilliant one. And 
one can understandj at Honrnutt nnd Wimcreux, the melancholy 
tnle told of 'N'nrna and Aladin, where regiments were obliged to 
Hiange qunrters to escape the ]ieslileuce which their own refuse 
and dirt-henps had caused. Aud yet the French put wonderful 
order tn their camp life, seem at home in it, and show a wonder- 
ful instinct, whieh Britons do not, for living iu hanuotiy aad 
in great cbeerfnluess nnd activity together. 

The camps in the depart