the practised pleader, always begets a doubt as to the sincerity of his conviction.

Other circumstances, of a totally different nature, caused at that time much excitement among the country gentlemen. The growth of the railways, regarded at first rather with curiosity than suspicion, had been progressing for several years. Important towns, great seats of manufacture and marts of trade, had been brought into closer connection by the locomotive engine; and trunk lines to convey passengers and expedite traffic from one end of the kingdom to the other were in the course of construction. The necessity for, at least the great advantage of, such communication being admitted, the movement so far was considered a good and wholesome one. It was calculated to benefit the labourer, the mechanics, and the iron-master-it opened a new field, and apparently a favourable one, for the investment at home of capital which otherwise might have been squandered or lost in foreign speculation or loan-and to the tourist and traveller it promised advantages, which a few years before would have been regarded as equally fabulous with the mode of transport by means of magical carpets so frequently referred to in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments. Here and there, indeed, some great landed proprietor, the sanctity of whose parks or the privacy of whose domain was to be violated by the screaming engine, made fierce opposition to the lines; but the directors, justly conceiving that human squires would not prove more inexorable than the Colchian dragon, took occasion to administer such copious draughts of the aurum potabile as disarmed the hostility of their opponents.

But as at the Californian or Australian diggings, the discovery in a new locality of a single nugget of gold instantly creates the rush of a thousand desperadoes towards the spot, so did the success of these early railways, and the high price which their shares commanded in the market, stimulate the cupidity of the British public, and transport them utterly beyond the boundaries of

reason and of prudence. Trunk communication, it was confidently averred, was not sufficient, even with the aid of branches which might subsequently be made, for the pressing wants of the country. The system so developed must go on, and that immediately, until Britain should be covered by a vast network of railways. To lag behind when others were pushing forward was a palpable folly and a positive crimeto let capital remain idle when it could be so usefully employed was next thing to insanity The true Dorado which Raleigh had crossed the ocean to seek for and explore was at last discovered to be our native English soil.

The lawyers scented the prey from afar and chuckled gloatingly at the prospect of unlimited fees. Engineers by the hundred sprang up into life and being, like the stones which Deucaleon hurled over his shoulder. Projectors mapped out the country, and compiled outrageous advertisements. Traffic-takers betook themselves to the practical study of the whole art of lying. Men, whose entire worldly property did not exceed fifty pounds, or who were positively worth less than nothing, contracted engagements for thousands, in the full confidence that, long before payment was required, they could dispose of their certificates at a profit. Talk of roulette, or rouge-et-noir! Continental gamblings shrunk into insignificance when compared with the magnitude of English railway hazard!

Railways, however, cannot be constructed without ground on which to lay them down; and many proprietors, taking alarm at the extent of the mania, and perhaps not feeling quite satisfied as to the sufficiency of the security tendered, were unwilling that their lands should be bisected and cut up, and would not even allow the projectors to make a preliminary survey. But the crafty engineering staff was not to be so baffled. What they could not take by force they were resolute to compass by guile; and accordingly they made their way over the country in all manner of disguises, attracting as little attention as possible when not

ing down their observations, or, when challenged as trespassers, abandoning their design by day to renew it by night with aid of moon or lantern. Many strange stories were told of adventures that had taken place under such circumstances; but on the whole it was generally allowed that the surveyors had the best of it, their superior astuteness enabling them to throw dust in the eyes of the stolid watchman.

"So it is actually proposed to make a railway from Goatshead to Ditchington," said Sir John Haykins, a burly representative of the order of baronets. "That is really too bad. There is no call whatever for such a line, and it will cut up both our properties, Stanhope. I don't know what you may be inclined to do, but I am determined to oppose it even though I should be compelled to go to the House of Peers."

"Well; I suppose there can be no doubt of their intentions," said Mr Stanhope. "They made application to me quite civilly, I must say for permission to take a survey; but, I as am as much against the line as you are, I thought it my duty to refuse."

"Quite right! There is no standing the impudence of these fellows. What title have they to ask Parliament to compel me to surrender the land which my family have possessed since the reign of Henry the Fifth, for the purpose of trundling along their bales of cotton and calico? Have they not a canal already, and is that not sufficient for their wants? I tell you what, Stanhope; I don't like the posture of things at all. It appears to me that Peel is systematically playing into the hands of the manufacturers, and using our support in the mean time to throw us ultimately overboard."

"Nay, nay!" said Sir George Smoothly; "You must not judge Sir Robert too harshly. It cannot be denied that he is a very sagacious man. That was a wonderful idea of his advising us to attend to the registers."

"I can see nothing wonderful in it," said Sir John Hawkins. "It was sound common sense to be sure; but Peel had not the credit of origin

ality. The advice was first given to the party by Alison, and Peel adopted it verbatim."

"That shows his great talent for appropriation," said Sir George. "Of what use is a good idea unless it be practically enforced?"

"Appropriation humph!" said Sir John, "I think we are likely to see that talent exhibited in still greater force. There's the Incometax now-do you think he has behaved fairly to us in regard to that? I was one of those, and I am not ashamed to confess it, who cheerfully consented to its being laid on, on the distinct understanding that it was only to be a temporary impost. For that we had Peel's own express assurance. Well-here it is still hanging like a millstone round our necks, and, for anything I can see, it will be made a permanent burden."

"But you must admit," urged Sir George, "that it is a fair tax in principle.

"I admit nothing of the kind,” replied the indignant Sir John. "It presses far more heavily upon the land-owners than on any other class. Don't you see that while we are taxed on rental, the manufacturers are taxed on profits only, and are allowed to make their own returns? But what is the use of arguing? It is quite clear to me that the tendency of modern legislation is to abolish indirect taxation, and to raise the whole annual revenue from realised property. I hope you like that prospect, Sir George. I, on the contrary, am old-fashioned enough to regard it as deliberate confiscation."

"We have not come to that yet," said Mr Stanhope; "and I should be sorry to think so hardly of Sir Robert Peel as you do, Hawkins. Certainly he has exhibited no leaning towards the Manchester men, whose organised agitationis becoming rather formidable."

"Wait a little," said Sir John; "before you and I are much older we shall see him on terms of friendly relation with Cobden. Mark my words-he will drive our party to a split, and then take up with the Radicals."

"Do you really think so, Sir John ?" said Dr Wayles, the vicar

of the parish, a quiet gentlemanly man of singularly mild demeanour. "I have a very great horror of the Radical party, who, I have observed, are for the most part Unitarians-as hostile to the Church as were the Independents in the days of Cromwell, and much more depraved in their creed, since we cannot admit them to be Christians. Surely Sir Robert Peel can never sink so low as to fraternise with men like these."

"Wait till the Jews get into Parliament, Doctor," said Sir John, "and you will see something to astonish you."

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"I trust such a thing will never come to pass in my day," said Dr Wayles; even Cromwell would have shrunk from such profanation." "True, Doctor; but old Noll was a very different sort of man from your modern demagogues. Regicide and usurper as he was, he had a stout English heart; and would sooner have parted with his right hand than allowed the country to be humiliated in the eyes of foreigners; whereas these Manchester fellows think of nothing but trade and profits. They grudge every shilling that is paid for the maintenance of the army, and would reduce the navy to a mere skeleton. I read a speech delivered by one of their leading men the other day, in which he asserted that war would henceforth be an utter impossibility, and that the reign of peace would be inaugurated by the free interchange of commodities."

"Doctrines of that sort," said Mr Stanhope, "have been broached before now; and it is curious to observe that they have always been most boldly enunciated, and greedily received, just on the eve of some terrible convulsion of society. Peace and fraternity were the professed leading ideas of the originators of the great French Revolution; but the results were war, anarchy, and ruin."

Aye," said Dr Wayles, "and France has never yet recovered from the shock. Great she may be hereafter; but her greatness cannot be abiding until she has done penance for the awful crime committed on that day when the nation deliberately denied their God, and worshipped at the feet of a harlot. Religious

fanaticism is a frightful thing; but far worse is it when all religious faith has disappeared from the land, when the altars are broken down, the sanctuaries profaned, and the cry of prayer no longer ascends to heaven! Then, indeed, the divine Spirit ceases to contend with the madness and impiety of man. The messengers of the Most High are recalled, as a voice was heard saying--' Let us depart from hence,' in the temple of Jerusalem, when that guilty city was tottering to its fall; and in their place came the demons of lust, and rapine, and revenge; and God's fair world is made a field of slaughter and desolation. O, gentlemen, if it ever happen that the people of England, abused by false doctrines and misled by philosophic teachers, should renounce the faith of their fathers, and cease to acknowledge their dependence on the Almighty or to invoke his aid, then be sure that the might of Britain will decay, and her boasted empire crumble into dust, as the tower of Babel was smitten down by the red thunderbolts of heaven."

So saying the worthy Doctor rose and left the table, followed almost immediately by the rest of the company, for all seemed to feel that the solemnity of the address was such as to forbid a return to a lighter strain of conversation.

The evening passed by very pleasantly in the drawing-room. Young Frank Stanhope, a nice-lad just from Oxford for his Christmas vacation, and blessed with exuberant spirits, began a vehement flirtation with the younger Miss Carrington; whilst the elder, Teresa, a sentimental blonde, seemed intent upon arousing the dormant energies of Mr Lumley, whose attitude as he reclined on the sofa was that of a confirmed invalid. George Carlton and Miss Stanhope appeared to be deeply interested in the inspection of a book of drawings; and Miss Bootle, after a vain attempt to seduce Dr Wayles into a discussion upon the doctrines of Loyola, pounced upon Sir John Hawkins, and craved his opinion as to the real nature of the Apocalyptic beast; which mystery the worthy baronet at once solved by declaring his conviction that it was typical of the

Anti-corn-law League. Then followed music. The Misses Carrington sang, in a high bravura_style, duets from the last popular Italian opera, which they executed neither better nor worse than the majority of young ladies who, being gifted with naturally flexible voices, have had the advantage of the best teaching which London could afford. But as for anything like feeling or adequate expression, that was utterly beyond their power. I wonder if the time will ever arrive-it has been very long in coming-when the fair young girls of England shall be persuaded that the inordinate pains which they take to qualify themselves for exhibiting a fifth-rate imitation of the reigning prima donna are utterly thrown away, in so far as their audience is concerned, and awake to the sad truth that the cavalier who so sedulously turns the pages of the music is all the while thinking of the lamentable contrast which their forced vocal organs exhibit to the ease, fulness, flexibility, and deep emotion of such artists as Grisi or Alboni. The sooner they become aware of this truth the better, for really nothing can be more unpleasant than to listen to this kind of singing, which is a mere vocal exercise, leaving no impression on the heart, and arousing no sort of sympathy-which, unless music can convey it, is no better than a rhythmical experiment. In singing as in declamation, the one grand and crowning excellence is the truthful expression through the words, of the passion or emotion which the words are intended to convey. Unless this point can be reached, all the minor and subsidiary accomplishments and training are of no avail, or rather create a presumption that the sympathies of the singer are defective. Now, in order to attain to that point the singer must not only thoroughly understand the situation of the represented character, but take up the entire spirit of the particular strain; whereas it is notorious that the majority of our would-be drawing-room syrens, who profit (as they think) by Italian teaching, simply learn the words by rote, and do not even know

distinctly what kind of emotion they should counterfeit. Ah, young ladies! if you seek to win admirers through your voices-and the voice of woman has a most potent charm, and if rightly used, can thrill the manly bosom more deeply perhaps than you can conceive-you will do well to give up those unprofitable and, for you, disadvantageous attempts to vie with foreign professional artists, and betake yourselves to the study of your native melodies. Sweeter, more pathetic, more plaintive, and more spirited music does not exist than what you can cull from the English, Scottish, and Irish collections; and the results which you fondly expect, but will never realise, from a shrieked Italian aria, must assuredly follow if you obey natural instincts, and apply yourselves to British song.

Of this we had an instance, or rather more than one, that evening at Wilbury Hall; for Amy Stanhope, though not gifted with much power of voice, sang very sweetly a madrigal by Ben Jonson, that fine old rough-cast frequenter of the Mermaid and glory of the age in which he lived, in whom the elements were most curiously if not gently mingled; and who ever and anon, though shagged as Father Winter, threw out blossoms fit to be gathered as a posy by the hands of Flora.

But I heard, and having heard it, never could forget, from the lips of Miss Beaton, a strain which took me wholly by surprise. She seemed unwilling to sing; but being pressed, took her place at the harpsichord, and touching merely the notes, so that the music became, as in the old days of minstrelsy, simply indicative of the thought, she sang with a pathos and power which I never heard paralleled, the ballad of "Helen of Kirkconnell." So strong, evidently, was the emotion which she felt, that the conclusion was nearly inaudible; and I doubt whether the Misses Carrington retired to rest that evening in a very Christian spirit, so decided, and even intense, was the admiration which was excited by the performance of Miss Beaton.

THERE are few subjects of study so interesting and picturesque as that of national character, and scarcely any which has attracted so much of that unconscious universal observation which forms the opinions of the world. Perhaps because, in former times, before this age of travelling began, it was chiefly the inquisitive minds of a country which bethought themselves of travelling into other countries, and that difficulties of locomotion made their report de cisive. But it is certain each of the distinct nations in our great European commonwealth has an established and received idea, not to be shaken by any amount of experience, of the mind and characteristics of its next neighbour; so that perhaps the first amazement which strikes an unaccustomed traveller, but which, of course, in the shyness of his novitiate, he hides jealously out of everybody's sight, is the shock of finding how entirely his foreign companion, first of all, is his fellow-creature, and how unchangeable, by all secondary conditions, are the catholic features of common humanity. The dress is quaint, the belongings are novel and unfamiliar, but at the bottom we are all so like each other, we common children of the universal Father! This wonderful fact, however, reveals itself only to individuals-while the great mass of every people receives into its firm and undoubting belief a recognised conventional portrait of every other, laughably unlike to the perceptions of the nation portrayed, but a standard article of faith with its neighbours and the charm which we all find in these one-sided reports of the peculiar features which distinguish other nations, let a hundred ramble-books, which have no pretension to be called travels, and sketches of costume and custom, declare. There is so much attraction in this kind of study, that everybody dabbles in it more or less; and even harmless tourists, who have had a summer's holiday in Germany or Switzerland, feel themselves warranted henceforward to deliver ver

VOL. LXXXVII.-NO. DXXXVI.

dicts upon "the character of the people." The races, with all their modifications and mixture, from erudite speculations of ethnology down to the easy adjectives of Celt and Saxon-the genius and tendencies of this or that nationality-the imaginary lines of separation, vague and faint as any disputed boundaryline of moor or fen, which part one neighbouring people from another, are matters of inquiry and speculation-gossip on a prodigious scaleof the most fascinating kind; the only drawback being that these investigations, in respect to other countries, are so clearly made from a standing-ground outside of and foreign to the object investigated; and, by consequence, costume and circumstance are so often mistaken for character, that the result is seldom much to be depended upon, so far as relates to living and contemporary people. How amusing to us, for example-not to go back to that delicious adumbration of national character, the John Bull of France, with his top-boots and the ejaculatory compliment proper to his island-are the notes of French travellers, even in these days of treaty and entente cordiale, upon ourselves and our ways. How quaint is the metamorphosis sustained by our unsuspecting acts and words as they pass through the highly-flavoured medium of our clever visitor's brilliant and logical brain. What astonishing notions inspire the inscrutable insular mind to the lively perceptions of the feuilletonist, and how piquantly sombre and respectably ridiculous look the uncomprehended decorums of sober British households to the puzzled observer, half malicious, half admiring, in his bewildered attempt to exhibit the English as they are, to his countrymen and readers! Our insular arrogance, which by this time has sublimated itself into a superlative quality too big to take offence, laughs hugely at the caricature; but how can we tell that our sketches, which sting the less sublime self-consequence of our neighbours, are more

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