dorsing Dr. Hunt's observations upon this subject, we still give them as well worthy of the most serious consideration whilst the future of Africa and of the negro is before us :

It is painful to reflect on the misery which has been inflicted on the negro race, from the prevailing ignorance of anthropological science, especially as regards the great question of race. By our ignorance of the wants and aspirations of the negro, and by a mistaken theory respecting his origin, this country has been the means of inflicting a prodigious, and, at present, totally unknown amount of mischief on these people. Our Bristol and Liverpool merchants, perhaps, helped to benefit the race when they transplanted some of them to America; and our mistaken legislature has done the negro race much injury by their absurd and unwarrantable attempts to prevent Africa from exporting her worthless or surplus population. All this has been done on the theoretical assumption of a mental equality of the different races or species of man. attempt to benefit the negro we have brought on him endless misery, and rendered some of the most beautiful and productive islands in the world of little more use to humanity at large than they were before the discovery of Columbus. But men wedded to a theory become blind to all facts, and will learn nothing from experience. All the millions of money which have been spent, and which expenditure has inflicted great hardships on our own working classes, might have been saved had we taken the trouble to investigate the character of the negro race. Scientific men have yet to do their duty in showing what are the

facts.

In an

It may be said that some of the propositions I have advanced are in favour of the slave-trade. Such, however, is not my own interpretation of these proposi tions. No one can be more conscious of the horrors of the "slave-trade" as conducted at this time. Nothing can be worse for Africa generally than the continual capture of innocent men and women by brutal Europeans. Few things can be more horrible than the manner in which it is attempted to carry these people across the Atlantic. Nay, more, nothing can be more unjust than to sell any man, woman, or child into "slavery," as understood by the Greeks and Romans, where the life of the slave was absolutely at the disposal of the master whenever his caprice or fancy thought fit to take it. We protest against being put forward as advocating such views.

But while I say this, I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that slavery as understood by the ancients does not exist out of Africa, and that the highest type of the negro race is at present to be found in the Confederate States of America. Far superior in intelligence and physique to both his brethren in Africa and to his "free" brethren in the Federal States, nowhere does the negro attain to such a long life as in the Confederate States; and this law formerly obtained in the West India Islands before our mistaken interference. Nowhere does the negro character shine so highly as it does in his childish and fond attachment to his master and his family. The negro cares far more for his master and mistress than he does for his own children after they are a few years old. I by no means join in that indiscriminate abuse of the negro character which has been indulged in, especially by those who have only seen the negro in his savage state, or the 'emancipated" (from work?) in the West India Islands. On the contrary, there is much that is to be admired, and more that is useful, in the negro when properly and kindly treated. Brutal masters there are in every part of the world: but we must not found a law on exceptions. Scientific men, therefore, dare not close their eyes to the clear facts, as to the improvement in mind and body, as well as the general happiness, which is seen in those parts of the world in which the negro is working in his natural subordination to the European. In some respects, the negro is certainly not only not inferior, but even far superior to the European. If, for instance, the European were alone in the Confederate States of America, these fertile regions would soon become a barren waste. The negro is there able to work with impunity, and does himself and the world generally much good by his labour. Occupations and diseases which are fatal to the

Europeans are quite harmless to the negro. By their juxtaposition in this part of the world they confer a material benefit on each other.

But it may be asked, Why remove the negro from his own country ?" "Why not humanise him in Africa?" No doubt this sounds very feasible, and no pains should be spared to introduce every possible humanising influence into Africa. There is little doubt that the African is much easier humanised out of his native land away from all his savage associations; but this need not prevent us from doing all we can towards civilising him in his own country.

The Man

It must not be omitted, when speaking on the future of Africa, that there are not only many different races in that vast continent, as Copts, Arabs, Moors, Berbers, Abyssinians, Gallas, Kaffirs, &c., but that there are also many different people among the so-called negroes. dingos, Fulahs, and Wolofs, for example, are quite distinct from the typical negro: many of these races are, no doubt, hybrids. But to argue that there are two great races, the red and the black, and that the blacks are degraded reds, as Mr. Winwood Reade assumes, is to argue against the experience of all times. We are more inclined to believe the great anatomists and physiologists, that they are one great ethic family, although no doubt, in a practical point of view, the conduct to be pursued by a civilised race of people towards families of men that are capable of education and civilisation would be very different to what it would be to those who are incapable of amelioration beyond a certain point. In the one instance, all that would be wanted would be to humanise and educate; in the second, it would be more necessary to coerce to a certain extent, but, at the same time, so to cherish and to nurture the inferior race, that it shall be said, as is the case with the negro in the better class of plantations in the Southern States, that he or she are better off than they would be in their own country, or if in their own country, that their property, offspring, and lives-their general being and welfare-are better provided for under the rule of superior races than under their own rulers. Under no possible European rule could we read of such instances as occur under negro rule as of his Majesty of Ashanti cutting off the hands of a slave, and bidding her scratch his head for vermin with the stumps; of the daily sacrifices of poor females by the regal monster at Uganda; or of the visitor having figuratively, if not actually, to wade through human gore to approach the throne of the successor of that prince, who killed King Da by ripping open his belly, and then called the country Da-omi, or Da's belly!

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

IN MEMORIAM.

BY NICHOLAS MICHELL.

A BRILLIANT star in letters' sky hath set,

But not to rise like Nature's; fate's strong blast
Hath riv'n a tree which should be blooming yet,
Mind's stately tower by death to earth is cast:
We sigh, "he was"-how much those words contain
Of earnest sorrow, fond regret, and pain!

Was no one near to aid with gentle skill,
Soothe his last moments, and to close his eyes?
He passed away as lonely and as still,

As morning dew exhaled into the skies:
He seemed to sleep, a smile upon his brow;
Oh, Death, how calm, yet terrible art thou!

There, ceased to beat a heart as honest, good,
As noble as e'er warmed a breast of clay;
We mourn him lost to Mind's bright brotherhood,
In the full strength of manhood called away,
In the expanded bloom of mental powers,
And weaving hopes and plans for future hours.

That lip shall cease mirth's kindly, genial flow,
That eye shall shine with light of soul no more,
That breast no longer feel for wrong and woe,

The brain's world-charming dreams for ever o'er;
Foes now will bear no malice, and each friend,
With added love, above his tomb will bend.

Not bitter was he, though there seemed a sting
In his unsparing words that baseness felt;
His spirit drank at charity's bright spring;
When merit suffered, all his heart could melt:
Treading fame's lofty steep, he felt no pride,
And, guiding others, did not spurn a guide.
Not cynical-he only lashed the times,
Sworn enemy to hypocritic art,

Held up to scorn weak fashion's brilliant crimes,
And bade dishonesty and meanness smart,
Himself all kindness-sympathetic, mild,
In soul a giant-feeling, a young child.

Come Wisdom, with thy grave and pensive brow,
Come Humour, with thy joyous, ready smile,
Come Taste, that to all beauty lov'st to bow,
With Fancy, that creates, and glows the while-
For Nature's painter let your tears be shed,
Oh, mourn a Thackeray, too early dead!

Rest, Fielding of our day, and more than he-
Thy page calls up no blush on virtue's cheek;
The world respects, while weaving wreaths for thee,
And yet to laud thy name we need not seek;
Thy works shall be a trumpet, which thy praise
Shall widely, sweetly sound through future days.
And "Thinkers" to thy grave will oft repair,
And muse on thy career, and learn from thee
To smite men's hydra-follies, yet to bear

A bosom warm with love and sympathy:

Sleep, truthful, kindly heart! though wrapt in night, Thou leavest on thy page thy spirit's light.

WON OVER;

OR, THE COUNTESS AND THE JESUIT.

BY MRS. BUSHBY.

PART THE THIRD.

I.

POOR AGATHA RECEIVES A TERRIBLE SHOCK.

AGATHA had nearly finished her own preparations in the sewing department for her approaching wedding, and she amused herself by working a beautiful pair of slippers for Alphonse; time stole on, and Christmas at length arrived. Ah, how dull a one to poor Agatha !—for her lover was still away, her friend Hortense was ill, and Madame de Florennes had gone to Louvain to see her. From her brother she seldom heard, and his letters, when they did come, were little else than sermons, for Rudolph seemed to be such a devotee that he appeared to have forgotten all mundane affairs.

New Year's-day passed over also amidst loneliness and ennui; but the Baroness Vanderhoven was better; Madame de Florennes was expected home in order to receive her long-absent son; and again Agatha's spirits rose, and again she made a thousand excuses for him, and looked forward with confidence to the happy event which was to unite her for ever to him to whom she was so deeply attached.

Madame de Florennes returned to Brussels, but she had a cold, and was not visible when Agatha called on her. There was nothing strange in this, for Agatha well knew that the vain old woman never allowed herself to be seen by any one except when she was well rouged and well dressed; that when an invalid she never admitted her most intimate friends. She called, however, daily to inquire for her. Did she hope, in her secret soul, that some morning she might find Alphonse just arrived after his long sojourn in England?

One day she had gone to a library in the Rue Montague de la Cour for a book she wished to read, and while waiting till it was found for her she took up an English newspaper, which lay, with Galignani and some other papers, on the table. Agatha could read and speak a little English, so she selected the Times. By a sort of fatality she looked at the column of births, marriages, and deaths, and after gazing for a moment with a start of horror at the newspaper, she uttered a low cry, and would have fallen fainting to the ground if one of the shop women had not observed her totter, and caught her in her arms.

The paragraph which had so affected her was the announcement of the marriage at Brighton, first by the Dean of Chichester, and then according to the rites of the Roman Catholic Church, of the Chevalier Alphonse de Florennes, of Brussels, to Mary, only daughter of the late William Wells, Esq., of Clapham-common, London!

When poor Agatha recovered from her fainting-fit, the people of the

library called a vigilante, and sent one of the young women home with her, and much astonished her old cousins were to see her arrive, looking

more like a corpse than a living being. She had to encounter a whole battery of questions; and when the truth was elicited from her she was overpowered with ejaculations, lamentations, condolences, and abuse of the recreant and faithless Alphonse. But she looked so wretched, and complained of such a dreadful headache, that the two good ladies insisted on her lying down in her own room and keeping quiet, advice with which she was thankful to comply, for at that moment she longed to be left to her own sad thoughts. In the evening she was so very feverish and exhausted, that her hostesses insisted on her taking some orange-flower punch, into which they introduced a narcotic that made the poor girl pass a night of quiet repose. Towards morning she began to dream she was walking on the banks of the Rhine, at pretty little St. Goar, with her hand in Alphonse's, while he was relating the legend of the Lurlei, and pointing out the rock to her; she was listening with eager delight to the animated tones of that dear voice, and glancing from the Lurleiberg to those dark eyes which were bent with so much fondness on her, when some harsh, guttural sounds broke suddenly upon her ear, dispelling the scene of visionary enchantment, and recalling her to the world of sad realities. Her cousins' blowzy little Flemish maid was standing by her bedside with a letter in her hand. It was from the Baroness Vanderhoven.

Agatha tore it open, and read there a repetition of the fatal truth. Hortense broke it to her as delicately as she could, blamed her brother severely, and lamented deeply that any circumstances should have induced him to throw himself away on one so unworthy of him. She expressed her grief and disappointment that her dear friend could not now become her sister in point of fact, but hoped they would always remain sisters in affection and intimacy. She said she never could receive that "Miss Mary Wells," as she still called her, with any approach to cordiality, and that she was certain Alphonse would be miserable with her, for there never could be any sympathy or real love between them. The baroness mentioned, evidently from a desire partially to excuse her brother— though she disclaimed any wish to do so-that Alphonse had been driven to take this step, so much at variance with his feelings and his honour, by the pressure of debts, which he could not see any hope of discharging except by sacrificing himself in a marriage with some rich woman. Madame Vanderhoven did not tell, if she knew it, that the larger proportion of those debts were gambling debts, needlessly and recklessly incurred. She added, that her mother had known, for at least a fortnight before it took place, of this reprehensible marriage, and had informed no one of it, thereby causing the blow to fall more heavily when it was so suddenly announced as un fait accompli. Hortense kindly pressed Agatha to come to her, that they might try to console each other under this unexpected calamity.

Gladly would poor Agatha have gone to her friend-to his sisterfor that was still a strong tie to her; but she heard through the gossiping curé that the newly married couple were in Paris, and intended soon coming to Brussels, where Madame de Florennes was making great preparations to receive them. They would surely pay a wedding visit to Feb.-VOL. CXXX. NO. DXVIII.