very close.

We are still running at a great rate, steadily thickens, and your nerves get but it soon becomes clear that the bal- wound up more and more to the stickloon is losing her way. A little later, ing point, your wits also seem to sharpen and she is bringing to. There is no continually, until you arrive at a point longer an upward rush of air against my at which you seize, as it were by inspiraflatiened hand held horizontally over the tion, at a momentary glance, all the leadside of the car. The moving phantas- ing points of the situation, and translate magoria has settled down into a well-de- them into instant action with a result tined ground plan. A piece of paper as good, or better, than an hour's carethrown over descends. The barometer, ful consideration would give at an ordiwhich I can now again afford to consult, nary time. The instant it became clear informs me that we are a little under that the balloon was bringing to, or nad 1000 feet from the ground. We have already brought to, and before she had gained a thousand in pulling up.

time to gather way upward, I had seized Bad judgment, and badly done! For the valve line and opened the valve full. it is clear that I have greatly overdune I am now steadily letting out an enorthe whole thing. Had one thrown only mous stream of gas, while thus review one half that precious ballast up above ing and deliberately indorsing this sudthere, just to check the balloon's den resolve. The sea is very near, and course, and the remainder by successive it will be a close race between instalments later on as required, we Nevertheless, I am persuaded that the might now have been nearly on the balloon has got the lead, and this time ground, and moving toward it at a safe she shall keep it. So I do not let go the and manageable rate ; whereas now she valve line till we are well on our downhas lost all her way. We are still a long ward course once more. I then heave distance from the earth, with the sea up the last bag of ballast, rest it on the

A long white line of hun- edge of the car, steady it there with one gry-looking foam is coming straight upon hand, take the heavy grapnel in the other, me with the speed of a railway train, and stand by to throw them at the right and in a weird silent manner which half moment. The half-empty balloon goes fascinates me.

rapidly down, gathering way as she And now her great downward momen- goes, but in the hundreds of feet that tum has carried her far below her true are now left she cannot possibly accelerequilibrium level. Now, by all the laws ate as in the thousands up above ; and which govern balloons, she is bound, if the more empty she gets the inore her I let her go-like a light float driven hollow underside tends to hold the air forcibly down into a pool of water and like a parachute. The last bag goes then left to itself-to rise rapidly again. when we are something over a hundred She will run up above the clouds once feet from the ground. The grapnel more, and carry me thousands of feet follows immediately after, the moment I higher than we have ever yet been-to am sure that it will reach the ground, descend later on into the sea, miles from as its sustaining rope is a hundred feet the shore, with a tremendous crash, for in length. We are running hard after there will then be no ballast to stop her. them ; but the loss of their combined We must get down now at all costs, if weight puts a powerful drag upon the not on the land, then as near as possible balloon, which has now only me and to it.

Below is a favorable marsh, cov- the light wicker car to carry. She ered with long rank grass. I have still strikes the ground with a fairly good one bag of ballast left, and the heavy whack, it is true, but nothing at all to grapnel to throw. This I can cut away, signify. At the last moment I spring rope and all, if necessary; and she can upward and hold on to the hoop, that hardly gather any very dangerous way the car may take the first bump. The now, however much gas I have to let next instant I am sprawling at the botout to get down in tine.

tom of the car, with hoop and balloon There is no time for weighing such right on top of me. considerations as these before taking The poor balloon is utterly crippled action, nor do I need any. For, in- by the loss of the great quantity of gas deed, at a crisis like this, as the plot which I had to let out up above, together with all that has been forced through the No harm whatever has been done, expores of the envelope by the great pres- cept that I am partly deaf for a time. sure of air below in her downward rush. My ears seem half disposed to strike She has no heart left in her, even to at work. They further express their retempt to rise again, so there is no ques- sentment at the great and sudden intion of her drifting, or dragging the crease of barometric pressure to which grapnel. Had she been lively and their delicate drums have been exposed buoyant, and the grapnel not held very in such a hasty descent by sundry crackwell, she might most easily have .con- ings and sudden noises at intervals. trived to dance over the sea-wall into Two or three hours elapse before they the sea after all, with or without me. recover their normal condition.

Now one can afford to sit quietly We have landed very near the sea. down for a few moments, to recover wall, and won the race by about one from a somewhat dazed and bewildered minute, more or less. Thus happily state in which the smart landing, follow- ends one of my earliest ballooning exing on such a rapid fall, had left me. periences.-The Nineteenth Century.


LORD BEACONSFIELD's worldly wis- new book under the names of Lord dom has changed singularly little with Roehampton and Prince Florestan, we age. It was as ripe as it was ever to be- all know. But where is the evidence in come in

Coningsby ;' it is neither Mr. Disraeli's books that any one great richer nor poorer in Endymion.” poem, any one great romance, any one There are whole fields of life into which great work of humor, has ever fully ocLord Beaconsfield has hardly ever had a cupied his mind, and suggested to him wish to peep. There is hardly a touch even a scrap of subtle literary criticism ? of genuinely moral reflection in all his Is he even aware that Keats wrote a many novels.

His heroes are never great poem with the same title as his anxious to do right for the sake of right, new novel? Are Mr. St. Barbe and Mr. never troubled at having done wrong Gushy, in this new story, really meant because it is wrong. The very words as suggestions, however faint, of Thack

, “right" and "wrong" appear to have eray and Dickens ? One can hardly lost all their meaning for him. And all help thinking so. But if that be the the experience which is connected with case, how infinitely barren has been his this class of ideas will be found to be study of their works, how wholly has the almost unobserved by him. He under- cleverness of the latter sketch been due stands what he calls a “mission," but a to some rather malicious glimpse of Mr. mission is with him simply a sense of Thackeray, in one of his half-whimsical power and of destiny, not a sense of moods of literary ill-humor. Nothing self-devotion. He has not a glimpse of is to us more strange than the extraordithe meaning of self-reproach or remorse, nary limitation of the field of view of a or even of the difference between failure man whose genius is so undeniable as and humiliation. Again, he has no inter- Lord Beaconsfield's. est in science, and has gathered none Take the new book, which is full of of the worldly wisdom of science- records of the worldly wisdom by which which, we need not say, is a great store. he has governed his own career, and It is, perhaps, oddest of all that Lord let us see what it amounts to. Of Beaconsfield, though a literary man, be- course, there is the old teaching that trays hardly any interest in literature. race is an enormous factor in politics, That he has studied Byron and Shelley, but that in considering race you must and written a book about them, in which not be deceived by empty names like their characters and fates are almost as the “ Latin race,” though it may be oddly mixed up and interchanged as are well to play with names sometimes, for the real characters of Lord Palmerston the purpose of deceiving others. Of and Louis Napoleon with the strangely course, there is the teaching that distorted sketches of them given in his women, again, are a great factor in po

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litical success—that if a man can but some degree of enthusiasm for his chief, command the complete devotion of a and a wise Minister will never stint his few considerable women, he will find regard for one in whose intelligence and himself wafted, as if by magic, over honor he finds he can place confidence. difficulties which he would not other- Such a Minister, even if he has been wise surmount at all. That is a bit of working with his private secretary all teaching from the personal experience day, always greets his private secretary of Lord Beaconsfield, which is probably again, wherever he meets him, with the not very sound for the purposes of the greatest consideration, because he knows rest of the world. If, indeed, a man that such a recognition will raise the can command, like Endymion, that young man“ in the eyes of the social herd curious power of alternating cold bursts who always observe little things, and of passion which do him no harm, but generally form from them their opinions interest these considerable women in of great affairs." Then, of course, there him, with the complete indifference that is the old maxim of men of tact, that if always comes to his aid as soon as he you want to succeed in what you are needs it, he may be safe in trusting to about, you should never show your

But for the political world hand too much—“ Tact teaches you at large, Lord Beaconsfield's teaching when to be silent. Inquirers who are on this subject is likely to be much more always inquiring never learn anything." misleading than effectual. Then, of And there is the observation that course, there is the teaching that the “ every one to a certain extent is a elements of political power are often mannerist, every one has his ways ;” and thrown away, unless there be a com- that, if you want to increase by your manding individual will” to use them- help the efficiency of another to the higha lesson urged both in relation to the est point, you must acquiesce in that Whig Ministries of the year 1832-1841, mannerism, and drop into those ways. and to the Ministry of Sir Robert Peel. Further, if you study opportunity, you Again, there is the permanent teaching will often shorten the business of life. of Sidonia, taken up again in this new Lord Roehampton, the Foreign Minister, tale chiefly by his alter ego, Mr. Neu- is in this story accustomed to give foreign chatel, that you should not be seriously, ambassadors audiences after the shooting or at least for any long time, discom- parties. He thought it was a specific posed by anything that touches the against their being too long. He used affections, that you should keep down to say, The first dinner-bell often susceptibility by cultivating a “salutary brings things to a point.' hardness ;' that you should rather in a higher key—“ Great men should * cherish affection than indulge grief,' think of Opportunity and not of Time. though“ every one must follow their Time is the excuse of feeble and puzzled mood ;" that suicide, for instance, spirits." shows a want of imagination,” the de- And finally, there is a fund of obserficiency in a suicide being not that he vation in all Mr. Disraeli's books-and thinks too little of the purposes of perhaps it is the subtlest kind of obsersuffering, but too little of the innumer- vation he ever gives us-of the intermeable chances of escaping from it.

diate world between real feeling and And then, again, there is the record mere imagination, of the thing most like of the many lessons of political tact in to sentiment which exists in utterly unwhich Mr. Disraeli was always a profi- feeling minds, of the thing farthest recient. First, we are told a good deal of moved from sentiment which exists in the use of Private Secretaries and of the thoroughly sentimental minds. For inpleasantness of the mutual relation be- stance, in Lord Beaconsfield's study of tween a sedulous private secretary and the thoroughly selfish peer, he says : his chief. There is usually in the re- “ He seemed to like meeting men with lation an identity of interest, and that whom he had been at school. There is of the highest kind; and the perpet- certainly a magic in the memory of ual difficulties, the alternations of tri- schoolboy friendships-it softens the umph and defeat, develop devotion. A heart, and even affects the nervous sysyouthful secretary will naturally feel tem of those who have no hearts." And

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similarly, he is always studying, and horn to. You reason like a parvenu. studying very skilfully, the unsentimental Of course, if you had created your rank 'side of sentiment itself, even of the sen- and your riches, you might rest on your timent of women. You can see that oars, and find excitement in the recolLord Beaconsfield does not really like lection of what you had achieved. A women with soft hearts. He likes man of your position ought to govern women capable of great devotion, but the country, and it always was so in old capable of trampling under foot all per- days.'There you have the true Lord sonal feelings, for their own purposes ; Beaconsfield" Set your mind to attain and he likes men who calmly accept that some form of power which you have not sacrifice, and think it the right thing for got, but which you may earn wholly for women to do.

yourself, and your life will be more or If we were to sum up in a word the less happy, if you are faithful to that worldly wisdom of Lord Beaconsfield, pursuit, and show capacity as well as we should say it taught first the value of fidelity.” This, with the maxims emambition, and, next, the use of the tools bodying the chief points of his own exwith which ambition may most effect- perience in working out this problem, is ually work. The poor, if they desire Lord Beaconsfield's stock of worldly wiswealth, should achieve it, and may be dom, as illustrated in “ Endymion.” It reasonably satisfied with achieving it; seems to us a very humble stock of the rich, who have it already, should de- worldly wisdom, and yet, no doubt, it has sire

power which they have not got, and served well one of the most singularly obtain that power. Lady Montfort's successful men of his age and country. reproach to her husband is the reproach But we think there is sufficient evidence Mr. Disraeli must very often have ad- that though Lord Beaconsfield's success dressed in his heart to the great land- has been wonderful, the aims in which owners and peers of this country. he has succeeded have been singularly “What,' she would say, ' are rank and narrow, and singularly alloyed with a wealth to us? We were born to them. metal that can only be called base.We want something that we were not The Spectator.

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* Sunt lacrimæ rerum !

That steadfast, mournful strain, consoled
By spirits gloriously gay,
And temper of heroic mould-
What, was four years their whole short day?

Yes, only four !--and not the course
Of all the centuries yet to come,
And not the infinite resource
Of Nature, with her countless sum.

Of figures, with her fulness vast
Of new creation evermore,
Can ever quite repeat the past,
Or just thy little self restore.

Stern law of every mortal lot!
Which man, proud man, finds hard to bear,
And builds himself I know not what
Of second life I know not where.

But thou, when struck thine hour to go,
On us, who stood despondent by,
A meek last glance of love didst throw,
And humbly lay thee down to die.

Yet would we keep thee in our heart-
Would fix our favorite on the scene,
Nor let thee utterly depart
And be as if thou ne'er hadst been.

And so there rise these lines of verse
On lips that rarely form them now,
While to each other we rehearse :
Such ways, such arts, such looks hadst thou !

We stroke thy broad brown paws again,
We bid thee to thy vacant chair,
We greet thee by the window.pane,
We hear thy scuffle on the stair ;
We see the flaps of thy large ears
Quick raised to ask which way we go ;
Crossing the frozen lake, appears
Thy small black figure on the snow !
Nor to us only art thou dear
Who mourn thee in thine English home;
Thou hast thine absent master's tear,
Dropt by the far Australian foam.
Thy memory lasts both here and there,
And thou shalt live as long as we.
And after that—thou dost not care !
In us was all the world to thee.

Yet, fondly zealous for thy fame,
Even to a date beyond our own
We strive to carry down thy name,
By mounded turf, and graven stone.

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