tibles in their houses, did not entirely escape the conflagration which ensued.

Lord Russell takes his stand, they are, we believe, felt to be untenable by the majorIt is the more necessary that we should ity of the nation in whose name he speaks. embrace all available means of purging our He says that England is the guardian of her honour, since, unfortunately, the bearing of own honour. Nobody has impeached the our Government, or rather of our Prime honour even of any English Minister, much Minister and of a party in our Parliament, less that of the English nation. All that was such as, so far from removing, materi- has been alleged on the other side is that ally to increase whatever sinister appear- our Ministers have, by want of reasonable ance might attach to the transaction. In care and precaution, led to the infliction of the debate on Mr. Forster's motion, the an injury on our neighbours, and that we builder of the Alabama was not only toler- owe reparation accordingly. Such comated, but cheered; and whereas from Pitt, plaints are constantly made and attended Canning, or Peel he would assuredly have to in private life without involving the immet the lofty and crushing rebuke of Eng-peachment of anybody's honour. If I am lish honour, by Lord Palmerston he was charged with having neglected my fences acquitted with the faintest blame. The and thereby allowed my cattle to escape mention of the Alabama's depredations was and do mischief in my neighbour's grounds, received with cheers by the violent parti- am I to be allowed to meet his demand for sans of the South. And the Prime Minis- reparation by saying that I am the only ter, instead of holding towards the Ameri- guardian of my own honour? cans the language which in public and private life is always held by a gentleman who has, however involuntarily, done an injury to a friend, courted popularity by magnanimously refusing to change the law at the instance of a foreign Power- a boast, the dignity of which receives its meet illustration when Lord Palmerston's colleague, under circumstances less favourable to magnanimity, is fain to claim credit from the same foreign Power, for having at its instance strained, if not overstepped the law. The Attorney (then Solicitor) General, also, in the ardour apparently of advocacy, made a speech which caused great and (considering what the Americans were suffering at our hands, if not through our fault) most natural irritation; though no one, we believe, to whom Sir Roundell Palmer's character is known, would suspect him for a moment of any want of justice or of good feeling, and, though so far as his personal opinions were concerned, he was understood to be friendly to the cause of the North. The Americans have not forgotten these things, nor is it to be expected that they should.

The conduct of a large portion of our press on the same occasion was also such as to expose us to the worst suspicions. Whoever will be at the pains of referring to the language which was held by great English journals at the time of the Alabama affair, will see that, if it had been a real exposition of the sentiments and intentions of this country, the American Government would have had no alternative but, in defence of its own honour and the property of its subjects, at once to prepare for war.

As to the specific grounds upon which

Again, Lord Russell says he will not consent to arbitration because he cannot submit the correctness of the Attorney-General's opinion on the law of England to the decision of a foreign Power. But nobody has asked him to do anything of the kind. The Attorney-General is in no way concerned with the present issue, which relates wholly to the external conduct of the English Government in its dealings with another country. The Attorney-General is the adviser of his own Government on the state of the English law, not the arbiter of what is due from the English Government to those of foreign nations. The AttorneyGeneral to the Dey of Algiers advised the Dey that, according to the law of that state, piracy on the high seas was a legal and laudable occupation. We did not question in the slightest degree the correctness of this opinion, though we very properly knocked the Dey's city about his ears.

It is no disparagement to Earl Russell's capacity to say that the traditions upon which he acts are drawn rather from a bygone age. an age which settled all questions, not by arbitration, but by force; and, when we may add, the relative strength of England and her neighbours naturally tempted her, oftener than she ought, to insist on being, in questions of right, "the guardian of her own honour," in other words, judge in her own cause. Our policy is not likely to be brought entirely into harmony with a new morality and with changed circumstances until we have a Minister of the present generation.

The Attorney-General's law, as delivered in the debate on the Alabama, happens, we believe, to be looser than that of other jur

THE CASE OF THE ALABAMA.

ists on the same side. It would in this case
be doubly absurd and wrong to take our
stand upon that opinion, and in deference
to it to refuse the obvious means of averting
war. But, we repeat, the opinion of the
domestic advisers of our Government is in
no way concerned in the present issue.

That which, as all men of sense on both
sides feel and say, ought to result from the
present discussion, is not a war, which would
be simply a disgrace to our civilization as
well as to our humanity, but a stricter un-
derstanding between the two nations for the
future on a subject of vital importance to
both of them, and not more so to us than to
the Americans, who have a vast ocean com-
merce and carrying trade, without, in ordi-
nary times, a great war navy for their pro-

tection.

At present the American Foreign Enlistment Act may be somewhat stricter than ours, but we suspect that it is not, any more than our own, sufficient to meet all the Protean forms of this most heinous and dangerous offence. There is nothing, we believe, in either Act to prevent a ship from being built in a private yard, on a private speculation, without any contract or understanding for sale to any foreign Power, and, when she is completed, taken out to sea, there sold to a belligerent, and by that belligerent immediately commissioned and launched on a course of depredation against the commerce of a Power friendly to the nation in whose port the ship was built. She would be contraband of war, no doubt, in the same sense as a rifle or a bag of saltpetre, but her builders and vendors would be liable to no other penalties, provided the sale was bonâ fide, and no agreement could be proved to have been entered into while the ship was in port. And if this door of evasion is really open, as the law now stands, cupidity may drive a coach and four through the Foreign Enlistment Acts of both nations at its pleasure.

These events, furthermore, have clearly revealed the necessity of placing in the hands of all Governments some more effectual instrument for controlling the acts of greedy adventurers, who are ready to sacrifice the peace of nations and the welfare of the country to their own commercial end, than any which the English Government possesses under our existing law. It is not liberty, but anarchy, when men are allowed not only to commit with impunity a crime of the deepest, dye, but almost to boast of it before the Legislature of the nation. The thousands and hundreds of thousands who might perish or be ruined through the consequences of

a

innocent, and against which they have proan offence of which they are perfectly tested with all their might, have a right to demand that, as they are protected by regular police and sufficient penalties against murder and arson, so they shall be of Alabamas. ed in the same manner against the building protect

dwelling on the terrible consequences which We have purposely abstained so far from a war would entail on both nations. England would be able to protect her trade with France, and probably her trade in the Baltic and in the Mediterranean. In fact, the progress of free-trade has now bound the European nations together in a commercial confederacy so close, that an enemy in cutting up the commerce of any one of them of them all. But our Eastern trade would would run a serious risk of making enemies probably be in a great measure destroyed. Our American and West Indian trade would, of course, almost entirely cease. Great suffering, a stoppage of all political and social progress, possibly in the end political convulsions, would be entailed upon this country. We should lose Canada and the West Indies in a way which would inflict upon us immediate dishonour and loss of social strength, though in the long run the severance would be substantially a gain. The Americans would gratify their resentment, but at a tremendous cost. Their import trade would be entirely suspended, at a moment when the import duties are required to sustain a weight of taxation which is fraught with political danger as as well with fiscal embarrassment. If they took Canada by force, they would only incorporate a disaffected population, and mar the natural course of events, which is evidently tending to bring all the English-speaking States of America amicably into one great Confederation. They would run a great risk of having the smouldering embers of Southern they would bring upon themselves at once hostility fanned again into a flame. And the heavy expense of replacing their army and fleet upon a war footing; for the belief, which seems to prevail among them, that they would only find it necessary to prepare a few iron-clads for the defence of their principal ports, rests on the precarious assumption, as we venture to think it, that a proud and powerful nation, stung in every part of its frame by a waspish swarm of privateers, and having a vast mass of sailors thrown from the commercial into the war marine by the destruction of trade, would not attempt to deal a body blow at its enemy either on the eastern or the western

sea. An enemy could offer the Southerners, one tried and staunch friend of the Amerias the price of co-operation or neutrality, together with independence, immunity from the galling tribute of taxation, which they are called upon to pay as interest on the heavy debt contracted for their own subjugation.

The consequences to the world at large of a war between the two Anglo-Saxon nations may be summed up in a word. English liberty would succumb, and French despotism would ride triumphant in one hemisphere certainly, perhaps in both.

But we will augur no such evil; and while a liberal government, containing more than

can cause, holds the reins on one side, and Mr. Seward on the other, we can hardly, in spite of ominous appearances, bring ourselves to entertain a serious fear of war. To preserve the honour of both nations and their respect for each other unimpaired, to keep the peace between them, to get the rule of right so vital to both of them clearly laid down and ratified for the future, to sink the precedent of the Alabama as deep as the Alabama herself is sunk in the sea - these are the objects which true statesmen will keep in view, and which we confidently expect to see accomplished.

THE LAUREL AND THE OLIVE. AT a fête given by Cambacéres to Napolean, October 8, 1800, a song composed in honor of the First Consul by the celebrated Chevalier de Boufflers, then sixty-three years of age, was sung; and the following couplet so well applies to our great and modest Lieutenant-General, whose sobriquet of" Unconditional Surrender" beautifully blends with his efforts to restore good feelings, whether his hopes be well founded or vain, that I venture to send you my free translation.

What

And

The

Who

The rendering rang in my ears as I was watching from a window the tattered flags Or, under which we have marched to glory, and while my eyes were filled with tears at the recognition of my old regiment, friends, brothers, children, as my heart feels them to be.

BLOSSOM AND FRUIT.

WHO weeps for childhood's joys?
are they but a round of tricks and fun-
ning,
A vast bazaar of toys,

hide-go-seek, and laughs and cries and

cunning?

In the sweet blossom-time?

when the strong man burning thoughts
doth utter,

Who sighs for the droll chime
When his queer baby-tongue began to stutter?

Never doth noonday sigh

To be the dawn again with crimson flushes!
No oak-tree towering high

Would be a bush again among the bushes!
Only weak man doth cry

For babyhood, and nursery tales and hushes!

CHAPTER XXIX.

THERE IS NOTHING TO TELL.

conquered her, would have won her at once, in spite of herself; but now she was minded to be resolute. She had sworn to herself that she would not peril herself, or him, by joining herself to a man with whom she had so little sympathy, and who appar

was she to answer such a prayer as that which was now made to her? The man who addressed her was entitled to use all the warmth of an accepted lover. He only asked for that which had already been given to him.

·Captain Aylmer —,” she began.

"Why is it to be Captain Aylmer? What have I done that you should use me in this way? It was not I who, who, made you unhappy at Aylmer Park."

"I will not go back to that. It is of no use. Pray get up. It shocks me to see you in this way."

"Tell me, then, that it is once more all right between us. Say that, and I shall be happier than I ever was before; yes, than I ever was before. I know how much I love you now, how sore it would be to lose you. I have been wrong. I had not thought enough of that, but I will think of it now."

CAPTAIN AYLMER had never before this knelt to Clara Amedroz. Such kneeling on the part of lovers used to be the fash-ently had none with her. But in what way ion, because lovers in those days held in higher value than they do now that which they asked their ladies to give, or because they pretended to do so. The forms at least of supplication were used; whereas in these wiser days Augustus simply suggests to Caroline that they two might as well make fools of themselves together, and so the thing is settled without the need of much prayer. Captain Aylmer's engage ment had been originally made somewhat after this fashion. He had not, indeed, spoken of the thing contemplated as a folly, not being a man given to little waggeries of that nature; but he had been calm, unenthusiastic, and reasonable. He had not attempted to evince any passion, and would have been quite content that Clara should believe that he married as much from obedience to his aunt as from love for herself, had he not found that Clara would not take him at all under such a conviction. But though she had declined to come to him after that fashion, though something more than that had been needed, still she had been won easily, and, therefore, lightly prized. I fear that it is so with everything that we value, with our horses, our houses, our wines, and, above all, with our women. Where is the man who has heart and soul big enough to love a woman with increased force of passion because she has at once recognized in him all that she has herself desired? Captain Aylmer having won his spurs easily, had taken no care in buckling them, and now found, to his surprise, that he was like to lose them. He had told himself that he would only be too glad to shuffle his feet free of their bondage; but now that they were going from him, he began to find that they were very necessary for the road that he was to travel. "Clara," he said, kneeling by her side," you are more to me than my mother; ten times more!"

This was all new to her. Hitherto, though she had never desired that he should assume such attitude as this, she had constantly been unconsciously wounded by his coldness, - by his cold propriety and unbending self-possession. His cold propriety and unbending self-possession were gone now, and he was there at her feet. Such an argument, used at Aylmer Park, would have

She found that the task before her was very difficult, so difficult that she almost broke down in performing it. It would have been so easy and, for the moment, so pleasant to have yielded. He had his hand upon her arm, having attempted to take her hand. In preventing that she had succeeded, but she could not altogether make herself free from him without rising. For a moment she had paused, — paused as though she were about to yield. For a moment, as he looked into her eyes, he had thought that he would again be victorious. Perhaps there was something in his glance, some too visible return of triumph to his eyes, which warned her of her danger. "No!" she said, getting up and walking away from him; "no!"

"And what does 'no' mean, Clara?" Then he also rose, and stood leaning on the table. "Does it mean that you will be forsworn?"

"It means this, that I will not come between you and your mother; that I will not be taken into a family in which I am scorned; that I will not go to Aylmer Park myself or be the means of preventing you from going there."

"There need be no question of Aylmer Park."

"There shall be none!"

"But, so much being allowed, you will be my wife?

"No, Captain Aylmer; be your wife. Do not press it further; you must know that on such a subject I would think much before I answered you. I have thought much, and I know that I am right." "And your promised word is to go for nothing?

66

- no. I cannot You asked me whether I ever loved you? I once thought that I did so; and so thinking, told you, without reserve, all my feeling. When I came to find that I had been mistaken, I conceived myself bound by my engagement to rectify my own error as best I could; and I resolved, wrongly, - as I now think, very wrongly, that I could learn as your wife to love you. Then came circumstances which showed me that a release would be good for both of us, and which justified me in accepting it. No girl could be bound by any engagement to a man who looked on and saw her treated in his own home, by his own mother, as you saw me treated at Aylmer Park. I claim to be released myself, and I know that this release is as good for you as it is for me."

If it will comfort you to say so, you may say it. If you do not perceive that the mistake made between us has been as much your mistake as mine, and has injured me more than it has injured you, I will not remind you of it, will never remind you of it after this."

But there has been no mistake, and there shall be no injury."

66

Ah, Captain Aylmer! you do not understand; you cannot understand. I would not for worlds reproach you; but do you think I suffered nothing from your mother?"

"And must I pay for her sins?" "There shall be no paying, no punishment, and no reproaches. There shall be none at least from me. But, do not think that I speak in anger or in pride, I will not marry into Lady Aylmer's family."

"This is too bad too bad! After all that is past, it is too bad!"

"What can I say? Would you advise me to do that which would made us both wretched?

It would not make me wretched. It would make me happy. It would satisfy me altogether."

"It cannot be, Captain Aylmer. It cannot be. When I speak to you in that way, will you not let it be final ?"

He paused a moment before he spoke again, and then he turned sharp upon her. "Tell me this, Clara; do you love me? Have you ever loved me? She did not answer him, but stood there, listening quietly to his accusations. "You have never loved me, and yet you have allowed yourself to say that you did. Is not that true?" Still she did not answer. "I ask you whether that is not true?" But though he asked her, and paused for an answer, looking the while full into her face, yet she did not speak. "And now I suppose you will be come your cousin's wife?" he said. "It will suit you to change, and to say that you love him."

Then at last she spoke. "I did not think that you would have treated me in this way, Captain Aylmer! I did not expect that you would insult me!"

"I have not insulted you."

"But your manner to me makes my task easier than I could have hoped it to be

THIRD SERIES. LIVING AGE. VOL. XXXII.

"I am the best judge of that."

"For myself at any rate I will judge. For myself I have decided. Now I have answered the questions which you asked me as to my love for yourself. To that other question which you have thought fit to put to me about my cousin, I refuse to give any answer whatsoever." Then, having said so much, she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, and left him standing there alone.

We need not follow her as she went up, almost mechanically, into her own room, the room that used to be her own, and then shut herself in, waiting till she should be assured, first by sounds in the house, and then by silence, that he was gone. That she fell away greatly from the majesty of her demeanour when she was thus alone, and descended to the ordinary ways of troubled females, we may be quite sure. But to her there was no further difficulty. Her work for the day was done. In due time she would take herself to the cottage, and all would be well, or, at any rate, comfortable with her. But what was he to do? How was he to get himself out of the house, and take himself back to London? While he had been in pursuit of her, and when he was leaving his vehicle at the public-hous in the village of Belton, he, like som other invading generals, had failed to provide adequately for his retre it. When he was alone he took a turn or two about the room, half thinking that Clara would return to him. She could hardly leave him alone in a strange house, him, who, as he had twice told her, had come all the way from Yorkshire to see her. But she did not return, and gradually he came to understand that he must provide for his own retreat without assistance. He was hardly aware, even now, how greatly he had tran

1448.