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and after dinner I smoked furiously. At first, that is, for by and by my pipe went out for lack of tending. Two years-I could not hope to get up my lost ground in less time. How short two years would be for my work, how long for her life. She would see any number of people; indeed that would be her occupation. She would meet her brother's friends, men of rank, wealth, talent. All of them able to offer her one or other of these, some able to offer all. It would be strange if in two years' time none could persuade her to give herself in priceless gift. I looked about my room; it had a new sense for me that would never leave it. There, a year ago, when in waiting for the northern express at Cumberley I sought out the old place. Always there would be the flutter of her wings about it; the sweet, beautiful creature who for a brief space in her flight had rested with me. And two years. I am not writing now as I wrote two pages back, and I seek to write as I felt. You will say I was in love. Perhaps I was, perhaps I was not; only I know I should have laughed at the notion then. Yet I told myself I could have been as worthy of her every whit as any. I did not thank God then that I could so tell myself, for I was bitter and rebellious. When she had spoken, in

that rare discord of resentment and penitence, of making amends, I had thought it a glimpse of a fair, frank, genuine nature. Well, I don't know that we ought to blame others. It is we who deceive ourselves often when we brand somebody else dissembler.

At length, remembering what I had bound myself to do for her, I got my papers around me, and by a mechanical act of memory did succeed in reproducing here and there a few lines of the argument, although none of the keystones of the structure. But seeing I had done something I took courage.

However, next morning the trouble was heavy on me again. About ten the carriage came round on its way to the station. I went out, and she thanked me and bade me a stiff good-bye-no one word of regret. It might be she was too proud to show how she felt the unintentional injury and her inability to atone, but I could not think it. I was utterly sore and proud and restive. Nothing went right that day; the boys seemed by instinct to know their master was out of tune. Certain little disagreeables of my situation, that at other times I could smile at, magnified themselves. At night, when Frekeston called, I said I should resign.

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explored, and those which, according to the literary fashion of the day, persist in describing localities which have been repeatedly described already. The fashionable taste for travel is setting very strongly in the direction of America, and according to the intrepidity and enterprise of travellers, their travels may belong either to the one class or to the other. There certainly appears to be a growing taste for travelling in America among those young noblemen and gentlemen who are looking forward to political life. It is thought that there is an increasing tendency towards Americanizing all free institutions, and at the present time America is more fertile than any other country in the social and political problems which the human race is working out. Those who have a love of danger and adventure may gratify it at any time by penetrating beyond the circles of luxurious civilization, of twenty dishes at breakfast and ice drinks to correspond, to any of the outlying regions, where the revolver is an active force, and scalping is still regarded as a conservative institution.

Let us first look, therefore, at American travel. Two books come before us which are as violent contrasts as can be well conceived.* We remember reading in our youth a story which was called Eyes and no Eyes.' Two lads take a country walk. They come home, and are examined about their excursion. The good boy has seen all sorts of delightful things, but the careless boy has


nothing that is worth the seeing. Now this is just the difference between Mr. Zincke and Mr. Rose. Mr. Zincke has eyes, and Mr. Rose hasn't. Mr. Zincke is overflowing with narrative, with discussion, with anticipation; Mr. Rose shakes his head and reports that all is barren from Dan to Beersheba. There is a corresponding difference in their styles. Mr. Zincke's book is, in the

*Last Winter in the United States, being Table Talk,' &c. By F. Barham Zincke, Chaplain in Ordinary to Her Majesty. Murray.

The Great Country; or, Impressions of America.' By George Rose, M.A. Tinsley.

The He

happiest sense, table talk. style is perfect of its kind. assumes that there is an immense amount of information common to himself and to his readers, and talks as a brilliant man of the world, with educated habits of observation and reflection, would talk when he would wish to talk his best. Mr. Rose's book is a succession of brief, jerky sentences, and may be best described as a continuous grumble. He is better known to the public as 'Arthur Sketchley,' and though we have not seen his 'Entertainment,' we will hope that 'Arthur Sketchley' is more amusing company than George Rose, M.A. The only raison d'être of his work seems to be thisthat at a time when the admiration of American institutions is in some directions carried to excess, his steady, unvarying depreciation of them may in some degree act as a corrective. We add that when Mr. Zincke and Mr. Rose both agree in taking the same view of any matter, there can be no difficulty about accepting their united testimony.

Mr. Zincke gratefully dedicates his book to his wife, who, not being able to go, urged me not to lose, from consideration for her, an opportunity for carrying out a longcherished wish to visit the United States of America.' We hold up this bright, conjugal example for imitation, and pass on. Mr. Zincke travelled in the winter, but we cannot endorse his advice that we should all do best to travel in the winter. It is not given to every man to rise superior to pulmonary considerations. Mr. Zincke and Mr. Rose both went to hear the great Beecher preach. Their respective accounts are very consistent. Mr. Rose heard him preach about the Prodigal Son, which was called a religious novel, and treated in a comic fashion. Mr. Zincke heard him talk about tobacco-smoking, ‘a filthy, beastly habit.' Both observers record that the reverend gentleman's remarks were received with much applause and repeated bursts of laughter. Both of them also record frightful things about the immorality of New York. Perhaps the

style of morality has something to do with the style of religious instruction. Mr. Zincke discusses the progressiveness and future of America with much vigour and insight, and in a higher vein than Mr. Rose ever attains. Both agree in reporting an absence of any senatorial eloquence at Washington. Mr. Zincke urges that in dealing with America the simplest style of diplomacy, or rather no diplomacy at all, is necessary, and that the Americans are the most reasonable and teachable kind of people in the world. We are afraid that this is not exactly Mr. Rose's point of view. Mr. Zincke notes that American cities are equivalent to European capitals; American forests very like European forests, mainly pine and oak. Mr. Zincke goes into ecstacies over the hotel varieties of living; Mr. Rose pronounces everything cold, sodden, and disgusting. Mr. Zincke prefers the American oyster to the European as 'more tender, and certainly of a more delicate flavour; Mr. Rose pronounces that they are dirty, unsightly, pale, sickly, and very flavourless.'


ing given these specimens of variety of opinion, we shall let each very briefly tell us something more of his own story.

Mr. Zincke thinks that the vast American empire may hold together. Things are not now what they once were. A few wires overhead, a few bars of iron on the level ground, and everything is changed. He believes that it is the destiny of the nigger to die out, just as the Red Indian is dying out. 'Miscegenation' doesn't answer. The Americans will all melt into an homogeneous people. Free labour, backed by machinery, is to restore the desert of the South. It will be seen that he speaks hopefully of the Americans, though with a fair proportion of sincere fault-finding. Mr. Zincke writes with much moderation on the great and difficult subject of the day-the reconstruction of the South, and the treatment by the North of the conquered provinces. Our author gave great attention to schools. Mr. Bright was once very angry with university men, because,

he said, they did not know where Chicago is. Mr. Zincke reports that in the schools of the United States American geography is well known, but the geography of the rest of the world is almost entirely ignored. Although common schools abound, yet in great cities of Chicago it is found almost impossible to bring the children of an ignorant, vicious population to school-a great argument for the compulsory scheme. All the travellers discuss Chicago now, so that the modern Porkopolis runs no danger of having its merits overlooked. In this, the youngest of cities, the greatest ornament of the shores of Lake Michigan, there are numbers of persons who remember the first brick house. It is certainly a wonderful district, standing between the boundless lake and the boundless prairie, by the great navigable watercourse of the Missouri, and on the line of that grandest railway in the world, which unites the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. The great city of Chicago, so to speak, is resting on the back of a cured pig. 'Here are more than 200,000 souls maintained in life by breeding, fattening, killing, salting, packing, and exporting incredible millions of pigs. The old and the young, the schools and the churches, the politicians and the men of science of this great city are all created out of pig. Take away the pigs, and they all disappear; double the pigs, and they are all doubled.' To such an extent do they apply machinery to butchers' work, that a stream of pigs will enter a front door grunting, and a few minutes after issue through the opposite door ready packed for exportation in the three forms of ham, bacon, and lard. He holds that the prairie is only forest cleared by fire. On the whole Mr. Zincke reports cheerfully of America, and even approves of Lynch law as a great institution. The Americans are more dignified, speak a purer English, have a more intellectual type of countenance than the corresponding classes in England. It would be a good thing if, just as we exchange our commodities among nations, so we could exchange good social customs-if

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the English could only have the cheap, cool drinks of Americans, and if the Americans would only eat in the leisurely fashion of the English. Here is a custom which our new Commissioner of Police might apply. In every case of infectious illness a paper is affixed to a door of the house, stating the fact. Mr. Zincke strongly recommends his friends to do their sporting in the Rocky Mountains instead of renting moors in Scotland. So much for one of the most pleasant and suggestive books which it has been our good fortune to read for a long time.

Mr. Rose declares that the South is held by Congress just as Italy was held by Austria. While the greatest sympathy is expressed for the negro, the use of strychnine is suggested for the Red Indian. He found a considerable amount of argument in favour of the Repudiation doctrine. 'I want to know,' said a Yankee, 'what is any man to do, when all his money's gone, but to bust? and that's what you'll do some day in that used-up Old Country of yours, that you are always blowing about, where, thank God, I was not born, as is about effete, and that's a fact.' Mr. Rose was repeatedly informed that he had a very English accent,' which he ascribes to the fact that he did not whine, or speak through his throat. But his book is incurably marred by his prejudice. He gives, in an appendix, a very interesting account of an Hospital for Inebriates; but though this institution may be chiefly essential to America, it might be advantageously added to the effete' civilization of our own country.

Another very remarkable work of travel deals with America.* Mr. Dilke, the young member for Chelsea, has written a work of philosophical travel which, in many respects, reminds us of De Tocqueville. He followed the English tongue round the world, and truly says, that if two small islands are by courtesy styled "Great," Ame

Greater Britain: a Record of Travel in English-Speaking Countries during 1866 and 1867. By Charles Wentworth Dilke, Two vols. Macmillan.

rica, Australia, India must form a Greater Britain.' He, too, has much to say about America. He points out how America is more and more becoming denationalised. New York has become an Irish city. Philadelphia is a German. In Boston only one birth in four is American. In the empire city the Irish are beating down the English just as the English have also beaten down the Dutch. It is not impossible that when there has been a still greater immigration of Irish, Americans may be found who will embark capital and energy in Ireland. New England is great, but it is becoming infinitely dwarfed in the progress of American extension. To New England is chiefly due the making of America a godly nation. Thoroughly God-fearing states are not so common that we can afford to despise them when found.' Protectionism is the political faith in America. The South is now virtually abandoned to the niggers and 'mean whites.' Mr. Dilke's chapter on the Pacific railroad and the corresponding railways in British territory opens up an infinite amount of conjecture on the future commerce and destiny of the world. Many are the interesting facts which he tells us of the boundless West. Leavenworth struggles to be the capital of the West. It claims to be so healthy that when it lately became necessary to 'inaugurate' the new graveyard, they had to shoot a man on purpose.' He went to Utah, and discusses Mormonism in a very dispassionate-a too dispassionatespirit. It is wonderful how the educated, sad-eyed Mormon Jadies can consent to polygamy when escape from Utah is perfectly open

to them.

But Mr. Dilke, as befits an aspiring politician, mainly devotes his strength to countries under British sway, and his labours will doubtless bear good fruit in the course of time. On some occasions we distrust his judgment, but we always think highly of the accuracy of his observations and their intelligence and honesty. He strongly leans to the idea that we should leave Canada to herself, and allow her, if she will, to become Republican. The true

moral of America,' he philosophises as he leaves her shores, 'is the vigour of the English race-the defeat of the cheaper by the dearer peoples, the victory of the man whose food costs four shillings a day over the man whose food costs fourpence.' From the old Spanish city of Panama he steams across to New Zealand, touching at Pitcairn island, a voyage of some seven thousand miles. Many of the Pitcairn islanders who had been transplanted to Norfolk Island had found their way back to their old abode. Pitcairn is now the solitary British post on the frontier of the Polynesian group as annexed by France. Then he came to the new gold-fields of New Zealand. There are good roads about the diggins,' made by convicts and prisoners generally another hint for the old country. Mr. Dilke holds that the Maories were original Malays driven from the peninsula and the Polynesian archipelago, and now in gradual course of extirpation. They are a tiger-like race, and 'it is in the blood, not to be drawn out of it by a few years of playing at Christianity." They may be savages, but they are more than a match for us in irregular warfare. Still they say of themselves 'We are gone, like the moa.' Mr. Dilke by no means endorses the prophecy that New Zealand will be the Britain of the South. He thinks that the position will rather be taken by Japan or Vancouver. Australia he pronounces altogether distinct and dissimilar to New Zealand. It was very hot weather at the beginning of a new year in Australia. The people of Victoria, to his eye, appear to absorb the vigour and prosperity of Australia. He well observes that the statistics of young countries compare the profits of manufactures with those of commerce, and pit against each other the power of race against race.' Mr. Dilke thinks that an extreme interest belongs to the political condition of Victoria, as mirroring the future condition of England, at a time when it shall have made many further steps towards democracy without becoming com

pletely democratic. Mr. Dilke takes a strangely democratic view of things, but he allows its enormous drawbacks to be clearly seen. Democracy is no friend to free trade, neither does it improve the condition of women. He does not take a hopeful view of Tasmania, and draws a frightful picture of the horrors of the old transportation. He believes that the effect of the system will for years be a blight on the prospects of these colonies. The existence of an enormous Chinese population flooding the labourmarket is a curious problem. Mr. Dilke thinks that England ought entirely to readjust her relations with Australia, or to have a separation from her, and, in any case, to recal her troops. From Australia he went on to Ceylon, meeting an American missionary who called himself a journeyman soul-saver,' and then on to India, 'the India hated and dreaded by our troopsby day a blazing, deadly heat and sun, at night a still more deadly fog -a hot, white fog.' He gives an amusing account of the Indian census. There was no false shame about the people in avowing their pursuits. In Allahabad, 974 people described themselves as 'low blackguards,' 35 as 'men who beg with threats of violence,' 25 as 'hereditary robbers,' 479,015 as beggars,' 29 as howlers at funerals,' and 6,372 as 'poets.' There is much that is very instructive and suggestive in Mr. Dilke's work, though at times we dislike his opinions greatly. He is too much given to hostile criticism towards Providence and his country. He calls the bounteous banana 'devil's fruit,' and speaks of the position of the two islands of New Zealand as an evil arrangement; he underrates his countrymen in the east; he believes that in the west British Columbia is bound very soon to become American; he is throughout too revolutionary and democratic. But his narratives are full of graphic interest, and it is not a young writer, however promising, who can excel both in the liveliness of his description and in the wisdom of his cogitations.

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