and the more I did the stronger I was; but now I do nothing all day I am very weak." "But don't you visit the doctor's wife?" "No; his wife is a fine lady, and I cannot dress so well as she does, so I do not like to go; people here think a great deal about dress. If you can't dress you can't visit the planters' families, and the doctor's family is quite a fashionable family. I am too poor, in reality, to go among such people." "Then, why did not your grandmother give you a good education so that you might give lessons and earn money, as you can never be in what you call fashionable society? "Oh," said Cecilia," she is too proud for that; and, besides, all the governesses and teachers come from the North, and I never could have been so clever and accomplished as they are." Then she told me about the planters who lived in the great houses, and the retired storekeepers of New Orleans who lived in the little villas around us. She said they were very proud indeed; that they did just bow to her in passing, that was all, though many of them had known her and her grandmother for fifteen years. She said her grandmother had been quite well known, and had had eight hundred slaves. "You have only Zoe now?" I said. "Only Zoe," said she; "but Zoe is married and has had four children." "And where are they?" asked I, with a certain shuddering curiosity. "They are all gone away." "Sold?" said I, with my heart aching within me. "Yes," said Cecilia, quite quietly, with no emotion. "But don't you think it wrong of your grandmother to sell another woman's children?" said I, hotly and boldly-too boldly considering I was in Louisiana, where a less bold speech has been punished with tar and feathers. "Zoe's children?" said she, not understanding my implication at all. "Yes," said I; "Zoe is a woman! Zoe's children!" Cecilia looked at me with eyes wide open, quite astonished, and said, "But, you see, grandmamma could not afford to keep five people, and she wanted money; so, of course, she sold them. What should you have done with them?" Here was a puzzling question! Cecilia looked at me as if she could not guess in the least my thought. I think she rather imagined I was proposing they should be drowned as kittens-these unhappy black babies; she had no idea, certainly, that any one could think there was a responsibility somewhere to bring them up as Christian children. I did not attempt to answer her question, for I am sure I did not know what I should have done with them; but I asked her another, "Do you not think it wrong to have slaves?" "I never thought about it; does any one think it wrong?" Here was an opportunity for argument, and I hardly knew how to begin, so I hazarded, "Have you read Uncle Tom's Cabin ""? 66 'No, never," said she. "I have not read many books, for, as grandmother is blind, she won't buy any books. I have read the Bible all through, but I do not remember anything about slavery being wrong in it." I entered into the subject heart and soul, and told her there were millions of people who thought slavery wrong; and I told her how England had freed her slaves, and how work was done better for fair pay than fear ; and how the labourer, who was free, was respected, and the effect of this respect for work on all people-ladies and gentlemen and all. She became so intensely interested in this new idea that I was afraid she might speak out imprudently, so I cautioned her and told her of the experience of some of my abolitionist friends. Her face lighted up, and her beautiful eyes kindled as I told her how many women had suffered for saying that they thought slavery wrong. I went on to tell her of Miss M. G. and others who had been born slave-owners and rich, and who had freed all their slaves and lived a life of hard work and poverty rather than have any share in what they conceived to be a great iniquity. 66 Supposing you are right that slavery is wrong, what will happen to us all here? Shall we be treated like Sodom and Gomor rah? I told her I thought that by God's laws, as we knew them, society could not be peaceful, constituted as this was in opposition to His evident intentions; that I did not think she need fear fire or brimstone, but that she must look for some change; what it would be I could not tell. It was getting late, and the damp mist was rising, so was obliged to go. I walked with Cecilia to her door, kissed her, and promised to come the next day. Alas! the next day we received sad news from England, and we were obliged to start immediately for Mobile on our way home. I had no regrets in leaving New Orleans THE FATE OF DR. LIVINGSTONE. the governor of Quiloa, containing a most important statement with regard to Dr. Livingstone. The despatch stated that traders had arrived at that port (Quiloa) from the far interior, beyond Lake Nyassa, and that at the end of November last (i. e., two months after the time of the reported catastrophe), when they were at Maksura (within ten miles of the supposed place of the massacre), nothing was known of any mishap having befallen Livingstone. They said, on the contrary, that the traveller had continued onward towards the Avisa or Babisa country, after having met with a hospitable reception on the western shore of the north end of Lake Nyassa. Dr. Kirk adds, however, that as Maksura is short of the place of attack described by the Johanna men, he almost fears to communicate this intelligence, lest it should buoy up hopes which may too soon be broken. except in causing some sorrow to some poor negro friends of ours, and the one deep reTo the Editor of the London Times : :gret of being unable to fulfil my engageSir, ment with poor CeciliaBy a letter received yesterday - poor, poor Cecilia! It was sad for her to lose her new from Dr. Kirk, dated Zanzibar, February 8 friend, and it seemed as if her life was (eleven days later than the previous dates), doomed to sadness and disappointment. II learn that a despatch reached His Hightormented myself with the imagination of ness the Sultan on the previous day from this lonely figure standing waiting in the marsh, and longing for the strange visitor to come and continue the conversation which had just begun to be so intimate, affectionate, and interesting. I thought of her going home to the dull house and the dull inmates. I was grieved to the heart to think of her daily bitter disappointments, and I was then provoked and sorry I had not given her my name and address, for she really did not know my name; it was a tormenting pain to me the whole of my journey; and though I had written to her before leaving, and sent her a parcel of books, I had not faith enough in the post of Louisiana to believe she would ever receive the letter or the packet. In my letter I begged of her to write to me at New York and also to London. Alas! there was no letter at New York. I wrote again to her with no result. Weeks passed, we arrived in England, but never a letter has come to me from Cecilia. At the beginning of the war I wrote to her again, but I have never received any answer. Great changes have taken place in New Orleans since I was there, and I have this satisfaction in thinking of Cecilia, that whatever change has taken place in her fate, must be for the better. She is dead, perhaps; she has fallen in with some Federal officer who may love her; or she is again a hospital nurse. There is little doubt that she is happier now than when she sat beside me that first day I met her; probably, the ideas I gave her were thought over and over in her mind, and she was prepared for what has happened and ready for the time of change. The life of this poor young lady in Louisiana was the dullest life I ever knewdull, because her domestic life happened to be sad, lonely; dull, because she was poor; dull, because she was in a slave State; dull, because the country was dull and dreary; dull, because she was a young lady with nothing to do and very little education. Happily, such a dull life is not possible in many countries, and was rare no doubt in the country where I came across it. At the same time, as I have all along questioned the veracity of these cowardly runaways, the Johanna men, founding my distrust on the testimony of those who know them well, this latest information from very near the scene of the reported disaster gives me further grounds for the hope that the great traveller may still be alive, a hope which I expressed when this painful subject was first brought before the public. At all events, it is now more than ever obvious that the course which it suggested, and which is sanctioned by the council of the Royal Geographical Society namely, to have an expedition sent out to clear up the mystery - is the proper one to pursue. It is proposed to intrust the command of the search party, with the permission of the board of admiralty, to Mr. E. D. Young, who managed the Pioneer steam vessel, on the Zambesi for two years, under Livingstone, and who has now a post on board her Majesty's yacht Victoria and Albert. Provided with an iron boat, to be sent out with him, it is hoped that her Majesty's government will instruct the naval authorities at the Cape to forward Mr. Young and his companions to the Zambesi. Once arrived there, the leader is so well known to the natives that, after selecting a negro crew, his boat will be carried in pieces, past the cataracts of the Shiré, and afterwards mission. -- In conclusion, I do not hesitate to say that this search after Livingstone would meet with the hearty approval of the country. It can be carried out at small cost and accomplished within a few months, thus clearing away the painful suspense which hangs over the fate of the illustrious traveller; and surely the civilized world will expect that such a tribute of respect, at least, shall be paid to so renowned and disinterested an explorer. launched on that river, thence to navigate | mood, but the best poetry in its total effect is the Lake Nyassa to its northern end, near cheerful and encouraging. Even when it treats which the disaster is said to have occurred. of sorrow, of pain, of death, it is sympathetic, If the sad story be true, and Livingstone but not despondent and gloomy. The very has really been killed, the news will doubt-production of the exceptional sad poem indiless have spread along the shores of the Iliad," treating much of war, wounds, and cates a degree of victory over the sadness. The lake, or great line of traffic of the country. violent death, is animated and exhilarating Again, his instruments, note-books, guns, throughout; of Dante's great poem, the first &e. the relics of his expedition will part is most read, for its fierce picturesqueness have found their way as articles of barter and dreadful fascination, but the second is an among the natives. In the absence of such ascending symphony of hope and faith, and the signs, and in the event of the exploring third part a hymn of heavenly rapture. Chauparty finding no proofs whatever of his cer is cheerful as the green landscape after a death, why, then I shall firmly believe that spring shower; Spenser full of rich vivacity the man who was appointed her Majesty's multifarious world of movement and interest; and bold adventure; Shakespeare's book a consul to all the chiefs in the interior of nothing did Goethe so much abhor, in life and South Africa is still carrying out his great in literature, as despondency, discouragement. The poet, when he is most himself, rises to a high and serene view. He will not exhibit grief, misery, horror, in isolated sharpness, and for the mere sensational effect; these must lose their harsh and painful prominence, and fall into place in a large and noble circle of ideas. The merely painful always marks as inferior the work in which it is found. Didactic poetry and doctrinal poetry are also inferior, so far as they are narrowed not merely by human but by particular limitations, concerned too much with certain people, opinions, circumstances, with the temporary and accidental. In the pure mountain air which blows over the realm of true poetry no mental epidemic can exist,. or if it rises thither it melts away; fever of partisanship, itch of personality, opthalmia of dogmatism, lie below with fog upon the marshof his time; usually it affects him far too lands. Yet the poet escapes not the influence much. He is apt to fall into sudden timidity in the midst of his boldest enterprises, apt to yield to the pressure of the hour. Also his, delicate senses persuade him to luxury and sloth. His experience of the stupidity and the selfishness which have possession of so many human beings goads him sometimes into one or another form of cynicism. He may sometimes write below his own dignity and that of his art. But, remember, if he puts any evil' (here is not meant by evil what this person or that person may object to, put contradiction of his own better self, treason to bumanity) — if he puts any wickedness into his poetry, it is so much the less poetry. So far, it suffers loss of value and of rank. The external facts, too, and incidents connected with composition and publication are often ugly, nauseous, and warping. The ideal, the typical poet, has all but superhuman power of vision and of speech. But in the actual, every poet is very limited and imperfect. Even the great poets are faulty, full of faults and short-comings. Each, limited already in his genius, is also limited from without, and does not do even as well as he might. On every side a dull and perverse world of persons and circumstances presses in upon his work. - Fraser's Maagzine. I remain your obedient servant. RODERICK I. MURCHISON. 16 Belgrave square, April 23. P. S. In proof of the intense interest which is taken in the desire to ascertain the fate of my valued friend, I may state that I have received more than twenty applications from competent men to serve as volunteers in the " Livingstone Search Expedi tion." POETRY.Poetry, as we believe, preserves and purifies language, cultivates good taste, helps memory, fills the mind with fair images and high, unselfish thoughts; wondrously increases our perception and enjoyment of natural beauty, relieves the pain of our usual lack or poverty of expression, shaping and bringing within compass multifarious thoughts and feelings, otherwise inexpressible. But the boon of boons, including all the rest, is the general enlargement, elevation, emancipation of the soul. Poetry universalizes. In its last result it is never despondent, but inspired with the loftiest joy and courage. It begins in the glad sense of universal beauty, and when it bestows the same glad sense upon its hearers, its result is accomplished. Here and there you find a short poem, exceptional, expressing a despondent 66 ANTIPHONAL CHANTING.-The Rev. George Venables, Vicar of Friezland, writing to the Churchman on this subject, says: "As much attention is now given to Church congregational singing and chanting, allow me to mention a method which I once introduced into a church for promoting good antiphonal chanting. It might be introduced in singing hymns also, if desirable. The plan is simply that of divid ing the congregation, as nearly as practicable, into two equal portions, one-half chanting the first verse, the other half the second verse, and so throughout. The effect is excellent. A nice spirit of singing seems to be engendered GENERAL CHANGARNIER has just broken | put on foot an army equal in point of numhis long silence on political affairs, dating bers to the largest that could by possibility from his arrest at the time of the coup be brought against her; and such an atd'état, and has written an essay in the last tempt would even be more ruinous and number of the Revue des Deux Mondes on absurd with us. - - London Review, 20 April. the reorganization of the army. His judgment is not favourable to the Government scheme; at the same time, he disclaims any intention of systematic opposition, and admits that after the battle of Sadowa there was a pretext for making some kind of alteration. That battle, by the way, he describes, with the characteristic jealousy of Frenchmen at the military successes of other nations, as one of the greatest disasters in the history of France." The General does not care much about rifled cannon and modern arms of precision; he denies that the Prussian needle-gun was the main cause of the Prussian success last summer; yet he grants that France must not be behind other nations in these matters, and that, if soldiers even fancy that they are worse armed than their opponents, they are pretty sure to follow their leaders with distrust. He has no faith in the Prussian landwehr system, and asserts that the Prussian army, in the campaign with Austria, being composed to a great extent of raw troops suddenly taken from sedentary occupations, could not have supported the fatigue of a long war, and that, even as it was, they filled the hospitals with sick, and studded the roads with loiterers. With reference to the French army, Changarnier is in favour of a comparatively small, but thoroughly disciplined, force of professional soldiers, and is strongly opposed to the formation of a large reserve of imperfectly drilled amateurs. One of the most important principles he lays down, however, is that, after a certain point, mere numbers are useless, or even mischievous. "No doubt," he argues, "if 3,000 men are pitted against 5,000, the odds are very great in favour of the larger force. But when you come to 60,000 against 100,000, the chances change considerably, and the higher the numbers go, the less important it is that an army should be equally matched. The larger an army, the more difficult it is to handle, and there is a point, soon reached, at which it cannot be handled to any good purpose at all." It cannot be doubted that such is the case; He once professed hinself the admirer of a and the gallant General's words should be borne in mind by those alarmists in this young, most beautiful, and accomplished lady at Turin, who only laughed at his passion. country who would have us maintain an One day he addressed her in the usual comenormous standing army because the Conmonplace strain, that he was abîmé, anéanti. tinental Powers think fit to do the same. "Oh! pour anéanti,' replied the lady, 'ce n'est Changarnier denounces as ruinous and ab-en effet qu'une opération très-naturelle de votre surd any attempt on the part of France to systême.' BAMBOOS FOR PAPER. - The considerable several steamers. It is manufactured also into THE Rev. Francis Trench communicates to Notes and Queries an anecdote of David Hume, which he says he found in the "Memoirs of James, Earl of Claremont " (edition 1810): 66 But as a ship, when all the winds are gone, And memory darkens round, and from the lone (Where once the brightness of the morning shone) Lies strewn with wrecks of that rich argosy Keen, soaring hopes and aspirations high, CUI BONO? BY GEORGE ARNOLD. A HARMLESS fellow, wasting useless days, To me this Summer day brings more of pleasure. So, here upon the grass I lie at ease, While solemn voices from the Past are call ing, Mingled with rustling whispers in the trees, And pleasant sounds of water idly falling. There was a time when I had higher aims Than thus to be among the flowers, and lis ten To lisping birds, or watch the sunset's flames On the broad river's surface glow and glisten. |