people to burn. He had clearly a high idea of his own kingly dignity and greatness, and a firm conviction that the final cause of "Church stuff" was to fill the King's pocket and to adorn the King's house. He kept a keen look-out after the smallest and meanest sources of revenue, and he entered into puzzling speculations about the coinage which we will leave to professed financiers to examine. 66 people, so little quieted." The real words Altogether it seems plain that Edward had the true Tudor spirit in him, a spirit which his education would certainly tend rather to foster than to subdue. Had he lived really to reign, and had he enjoyed health to act for himself, we can well believe that his rule would have been as imperious as that of Henry or Elizabeth. He would probably have stuck to business from the very beginning, and not have wasted much time upon the sports and pageants which were the delight of the early years of his father. Sometimes, to be sure, he condescends to mention such things. He tells us, in a strain as cool as if he were recording the beheading of an uncle or the burning of a heretic, of the bearbaitings with which the French ambassadors were regaled, and of a still beastlier sport which graced the marriage of Robert Dudley and Amy Robert Dudley" respectively. In p. 339 (a sart:" After which marriage there were certain gentlemen which did strive who should first take away a goose's head which was hanged alive on two cross-posts." At another time, "a challenge was made by me that I, with sixteen of my chamber, should run at base, shoot, and run at ring, with any seventeen of my servants gentlemen in the court." "The first day of the challenge at base, or running, the King won." Two days after," I lost the challenge shooting at rounds, and won at rovers." page in which Mr. Froude confounds Gar- 66 SO on Mr. Froude, as his readers doubtless know, has made large use of this Journal. It may therefore be as well to mention that the grearter part of his quotations from it are inaccurate. We have tested him not only by Mr. Pocock, whose text we feel sure accurately represents the original manuscript, VISCOUNT MILTON AND DR. CHEADLE'S. but to which Mr. Froude of course could not refer, but also by the first folio edition of Burnet. And we find some mistake or other, great or small in nearly every extract. Mr. Froude not only torments us with that vague sort of reference which is the scholar's abhorrence, but when the passage is got at, we find him pursued by an incapacity, like that of a Frenchman, for copying a plain piece of print without some error or other. For instance, in Froude v. 237, we find, within inverted commas, as an extract from the Journal, "the lords fearing the rage of the From the Spectator. TRAVELS.* THE modern facilities for locomotion are gradually restricting the limits within which the perilous poetry of travel in the older. sense remains possible-Alpine tourism being to real travel what Blondinism is to gymnastics. As the excursion trip and the dilettante traveller are able to penetrate further, with regulation comfort, and without more than the regulation risk, so the halo through. count Milton and Dr. Cheadle. London: Cassell,, *The North-West Passage by Land. By VisPetter, and Galpin. which the more impenetrable districts of the globe were viewed is beginning to fade away, and countries and nations, from which even in the present day no man who visits them can be sure to return, have lost much of their imaginative charm in the mind of the average reader, standing out, as they seem to do, naked and unadorned, like the sharp naked hills under a southern sky. This phase of feeling is, however, as much founded on illusion as that which it succeeds, the apparent clearness of the forms only beguiling the distant spectator into the belief that what he sees is really as it looks, whereas in truth the details are hidden by distance in the one case even more than they were by the intervening mist in the other. It is only when he attempts to get nearer, when he is helped by the telescopic view of a fellow traveller, that he awakes to the hidden reality-reality all the better concealed because of the apparent distinctness of the object seen. And if by the magic of another's eyes whole tracts of the globe, hitherto vacantly stereotyped in our minds, suddenly blossom into unexpected life, the romance is all the greater from the excess of the surprise. Behind a curtain we may expect to find anything the imagination is pleased to suggest. When the uncurtained wall suddenly breaks into life, the sensation is rather one of miracle than of merely gratified curiosity. Of course the possible number of such unexpected revelations must necessarily diminish from year to year, the more so as the exploring instinct of the Teutonic, and especially the British, race seems as strong as ever, and all the supposed enervating influences of a civilization, whose British talisman is comfort, have failed to hinder even the more delicate sons of modern refinement from affronting even the greatest perils of foreign travel. When a literary man of delicate literary refinement, when an English viscount bred to a viscount's ease, and an English medical man and member of an English university, take their lives in their hands and travel east and west very much as the crow flies, and all within the space of two or three years, fast upon the Spekes, the Burtons, the Du Chaillus, it is clear that the roving spirit of discovery rules stronger than ever, and that in theory at least the uninspected parts of the world must grow less and less. In practice, however, enough remains to fillip the wonder of some generations to come, and it may probably be long ere it will be no longer possible to divide books of travel into narratives of purely personal impressions regarding countries known to the bulk of readers, and new records of countries hitherto unknown, or comparatively unknown, to modern Europeans. To this latter class both Viscount Milton's and Mr. Palgrave's travels belong, and it would be interesting to analyze the relative degrees of romance which attach to the achievements of either. If Mr. Palgrave was in perpetual danger of dying of thirst and having his head cut off in the east, Viscount Milton and Dr. Cheadle were in alternate danger of being eaten and having nothing to eat in the west, not to mention the danger of assassination at the hands of Sioux Indians. Mr. Palgrave introduces us to old civilizations, august with age, yet invested to him and us with all the freshness of absolute youth, but what he saw is more likely to fascinate the mature than the young, the historical student and political philosopher than the general reader Viscount Milton and Dr. Cheadle's rambles in the forest, however deeply they may interest grown-up men, will take a place in the corner of the boy's own heart where the Robinson Crusoes, the Swiss Family Robinsons, the Mungo Parks have an abiding home perhaps one of the safest and most abiding nooks in the temple of posthumous fame in which any book can be lodged. So true it is that fiction is often less strange than truth, that Robinson Crusoe's imaginary hardships are as nothing to those endured by Lord Milton and Dr. Cheadle. Their journey down the Red River, over some four hundred miles, in canoes, not by any means the most hazardous they performed, is one of the most romantic we remember to have read, more in tune with the tales of crusading pilgrims than of nineteenth-century gentlemen. Three men and a dog for sixteen days occupied two cranky canoes, perpetually in need of caulking. They started from Georgetown for Fort Garry (500 miles), with twenty pounds of flour, twenty pounds of pemmican, ten pounds of salt pork, some grease, tinder and matches, a small quantity of tea, salt, and tobacco, and plenty of ammunition; a tin kettle and a frying pan, some blankets and a waterproof sheet, a small axe, and a gun and hunting knife apiece. Lord Milton and the dog (Rover by name, a treasure of genius and pluck) occupied the smaller canoe, while a Mr. Treemiss and Dr. Cheadle "navigated" the larger one. The first day and night passed merrily enough, and very well described they are. But the next morning Lord Milton's arms were so blistered with paddling in the sun that he was disabled for several days, and his canoe was towed along by the other two men. A week after they left George 1 - ultimately selected a spot about half-way between Red River and the Rocky Mountains, called by the Indians "La Belle Prarie," a lovely patch of two hundred acres, town their provisions fell short, and the pemmican proving worthless fell to the treasure of a dog. Henceforward wild-duck and fowl shooting became something more than a sporting entertainment. Hunger had tak-"surrounded by low, wooded hills, and on en the place of gastronomy. And the inter- one side a lake, winding with many an inlet est with which the reader joins in the chase amongst the hills and into the plain." How after young geese, "nearly full grown and they built their log hut here, far away from feathered, but not able to fly," is almost pa- human habitation, how they only just comthetically dramatic. Three men and a dog, pleted it before winter fell on them like an with hungry stomachs, and in no temper to avalanche, how they lived with their dogs trifle, paddling furiously on a wild American the wild life of Indian trappers, and oftenriver in two canoes after young geese, very times very nearly perished of hunger and succulent, but equally indispensable whether cold, will soon be read by every schoolboy succulent or dry, is an idyllic picture which in England. The buffalo-hunting is described throws a funny gleam on the fat sport of a with the zest of exact truth, the nervous turnip battue, and also upon the true pleas- anxiety, the immense but smothered expecures and pains of savage life. Then follows a tation, the danger, the necessities of actual description of a "riband" storm following subsistence, all these, coupled with the simthe course of the river, for the singular force ple reality of the description and the total and simplicity of which the authors deserve absence of sensation writing, are features very great credit. We wish we could quote which will make the North-West Passage by it, but we must hurry on. Their canoes were Land one of the most popular English books flooded with the torrents of rain-they sat of travel. At the same time it is as hard a a night long in a rising hip-bath it became book to review as would be Robinson Crusoe doubtful if their small craft would float till itself. It is almost impossible to analyze its daybreak - the rain beat upon them—they contents. All the incidents follow one anshivered from head to foot their teeth chat- other link by link in such a manner that it tered, and their hands were so numbed that is difficult to mention them without recountthey could scarcely grasp their paddles,ing the whole book. But here, for instance, nor dare they take a moment's rest in their is one example of the life they lead: watch to keep clear of snags and rocks, revealed to them from time to time by appall"On the 11th of March, as we were sitting in ing flashes of lightning, illuminating the the hut talking to two young Indians who had river for an instant, and leaving them just arrived from the plains with a message from plunged in more appalling darkness. Day Gaytchi Mohkamaru, to the effect that he would broke at last, and they climbed on a muddy be compelled by hunger to eat the meat we had. bank, landed their canoes, wrapped them- left in cache if we did not fetch it immediately, selves in their dripping blankets, and, utterly the door opened and in walked La Ronde [an weary and worn out, slept long and soundly. Indian half-breed who accompanied them.] He This is only one little episode in the epiwas very emaciated, and appeared feeble and worn out. Bruneau arrived soon after in a dog sode itself of the sixteen days' canoe sleigh, on which were a pemmican, a sack of ing, which is, after all, only introduc- flour, a small chest of tea, and above all letters tory to the main purport of the book. Lord from home. How eagerly we seized them, and Milton and Dr. Cheadle having under- how often we read and re-read them, need taken to explore the most direct route hardly be told. We made a feast in honor of through British territory to the gold regions the arrival; pancakes were fiied in profusion, of Cariboo and the unknown country on the and kettleful after kettleful of tea prepared. The western flank of the Rocky Mountains, in the latter we had not tasted for many days, the neighbourhood of the sources of the north former not for weeks. We sat up until long after midnight, listening to La Ronde's account branch of the Thompson River, were prac- of his journey and the news from Red River. tically only at the starting-point of their They had accomplished the journey of 600 miles true expedition when they got to Fort Gar- to Fort Garry in twenty-three days, and after a ry. Finding, when they reached this prelim- week's rest set out on their return on the last inary stage, that it was already too late in day of January. This and the 1st of February the season to attempt crossing the mountains were the two days on which Cheadle and Isbister before winter, they decided to travel west- travelled from Carlton, the period of greatest ward to some convenient point on the river cold, when there were seventy degrees of frost." Saskatchewan, and winter there, in readiness to go forward across the mountains the ollowing sum mer. After some hesitation they : All the details which follow are interesting, but one touch is peculiarly graphic: "We found," say the authors, "to our surprise, that we had somehow or other contrived to manufacture three days since our last visit to the Fort, six weeks before. By our reckoning we made the day of their return Saturday, the 14th of March, whereas it proves to be Wednesday, the 11th," a little fact which leaves a vivid impression behind of how soon civilization might under certain circumstances die from the face of the world. On the re-appearance of the thaw our travellers prepared to push on through the second half of their expedition, but they had "to find the horses -a very expressive phrase. "The horses" had been turned loose at the commencement of winter, and had trailed eight or ten miles away. To the great astonishment of their owners, they were, when found, "perfect balls of fat." Yet they had lived without shelter on such grass as they could scrape at through the snow. So nutritious, it seems, is prairie grass, that "the milch cows and draught oxen at Red River and in Minnesota, feeding on grass alone, were generally in nearly as fine condition as the stall-fed cattle of the Baker-Street Show." On the 3rd of April, not without regret, Lord Milton and Dr. Cheadle turned their backs upon La Belle Prairie and set out for Edmonton, across a country of "the usual rich character, mingled woods, rolling praries, and lakes and streams," along the course of the Saskatchewan, which appears to flow in one of the most fertile and glorious valleys in the world. It is melancholy to think that the vanities of the fur trade should for so many years have practically helped to shut out mankind from a district capable of sustaining a flourishing nation of thirty millions of souls. Starting from Edmonton, the most important establishment of the Hudson's Bay Company in the Saskatchewan district, the travellers, in spite of the earnest remonstrances of local connoisseurs, determined to try their fortune over Yellow Head Pass, following the emigrants' trail as far as may seem desirable, but trusting to their imperfect maps and the sagacity of their men to reach either Cariboo or Fort Kamloops, at the grand fork of the Thompson. They calculated that they could not reach any post in British Columbia under a journey of seven or eight hundred miles, which they thought might take them fifty days to accomplish at the outside. For this their provisions comprised two sacks of flour, of a hundred pounds each; four bags of pemmican, of ninety pounds each; tea, salt, and tobaccoTheir company comprised seven persons, and they had twelve horses, six of which carried packs. On this eventful journey they repeatedly lost their trail, and finally had to cut their way through a primeval forest; while the very Indians who accompanied them despaired of life. Their provisions dying out, they had to feed on one of their own horses. The expedition lasted not fifty days, as they reckoned, but nearly ninety. At the end of August they reached Fort Kamloops in the following condition :- "Our clothes were in tatters, the legs of Milton's trousers torn off above the knees, Cheadle's in ribbons; our feet covered only by the shreds of moccassins; our faces gaunt, haggard, and unshaven; our hair long, unkempt, and matted; and we had no means of proving our identity." There they washed, and dressed, and ate, and drank, and the rhapsody about their eating and drinking is quite pathetico-comically Homeric. They hear for the first time the marriage of the Prince of Wales. "Bless me! how delightful! is it possible? but, oh Cheadle ! what a mutton chop!" They hear of the Polish insurrection. "Very sad, but, oh Milton! what a rice pudding!" With mutton chops, potatoes, bread, butter, milk, rice pudding, tea, sugar, "contrast dried horse-flesh and water, or martens, or nothing at all." "The height of happiness," cry the two travellers, "the height of happiness is eating and drinking! Talk not to us of intellectual raptures, the mouth and stomach are the doors by which enters true delight," - a sentiment which in such mouths sounds as delightfully fresh and innocent as the confessions of sweet infancy respecting the bliss of toffy and the artistic beauties of plum-pudding. Men who peril their lives to add to the substantial knowledge of the world may be permitted to extol a mutton chop and a rice pudding in batrachomyomachian language. The net result of Viscount Milton and Dr. Cheadle's book may be stated in a sentence. "Millions of money and hundreds of lives have been lost in the search for a North-West Passage by Sea. Discovered at last, it has proved useless. The NorthWest Passage by Land is the real highway to the Pacific." This is the passage they have discovered, thereby connecting the apparently inexhaustible soil of the Saskatchewan with the apparently inexhaustible minerals of British Columbia. PART VIII. CHAPTER XXVII. MISS MARJORIBANKS's mind had scarcely subsided out of the first exhilarating sense of a great many things to do, and a truly important mission in hand, when little Rose Lake sought her with that confession of family troubles, and prayer for counsel and aid in the extremity, which opened a new way and mode of working to Lucilla. Rose was proud, poor little soul, not only of her exceptional position, and that of her family, as a family of artists, but also with a constitutional and individual pride as one of the natural conservators of the domestic honour, who would rather have died than have heard the Lakes lightly spoken of, or upbraided with debt or indecorum, or any other crime. She had been silent as long as she could about Barbara's shortcomings, jealously concealing them from all the world, and attacking them with a violence which made her big elder sister, who was twice as big and six times as strong as she, tremble before her when they were alone. But little Rose had at length found things come to a point beyond which her experience did not go. When Barbara began to have secret meetings with a man whose presence nobody was aware of, and who did not come openly to the house to seek her-and persevered, in spite of all remonstrances, in this clandestine career Rose could not tell what more to do. A vague instinct of greater evil behind impelled her to some action, and shame and pride combined at the same time to keep her silent. She could not speak to her father, because the poor man lost his head straightway, and made piteous appeals to her not to make a fuss, and threw the burden back again upon her with a double weight; and besides, he was only a man, though he was her father, and Rose had the pride of a woman in addition to her other prides. In these painful circumstances, it occurred to her to consult Lucilla, who had been, as has been recounted in an early part of this history, a great authority at Mount Pleasant, where her heroic belief in herself led, as was natural, others to believe in her. And then Miss Marjoribanks was one of the people who keep counsel; and Rose felt, besides, that Lucilla had been injured, and had not revenged herself, and that to put confidence in her would be, to a certain extent, to make up for the offence. All these motives, combined with an intolerable sense of having upon her shoulders a burden greater than she could bear, drove the young artist at last to Grange Lane, where Lucilla, as we have said, was still in the state of mental exhilaration and excitement naturally consequent upon having a very important piece of work in hand. "I don't know what to do," said Rose; "I made up my mind I never would say a word to any one. It is so strange that she should have no proper pride! but you know, Lucilla, it is dreadful to think if anything should come of it! though I am sure I don't know what could come of it; but they might run away, or something; and then people are so fond of talking. I thought for a long time, if I only knew some nice old lady; but then I don't suppose there are any nice old ladies in Carlingford," added the Preraphaelist, with a sigh. "Oh, you little monster!" cried Lucilla, "there is Mrs. Chiley, the dearest old but never mind, make haste and tell me all the same." "Lucilla," said Rose, solemnly, "we are not great people like you; we are not rich, nor able to have all we like, and everybody to visit us; but, all the same, we have our Pride. The honour of a family is just as precious whether people live," said the young artist, with a certain severity, "in Grove Street or in Grange Lane." This exordium had its natural effect upon Miss Marjoribanks; her imagination leaped forward a long way beyond the reality which her companion talked of so solemnly, and she changed colour a little, as even a woman of her experience might be excused for doing in the presence of something terrible and disastrous so near at hand. "I wish you would not frighten me,” said Lucilla; "I am very sorry for you, you dear little Rose. You are only a baby yourself, and ought not to have any bother. Tell me all about it, there's a dear." "no But these soothing tones were too much for Rosa's composure. She cried, and her cheeks flushed, and her dewy eyes enlarged and lightened when they had thrown off a little part of their oppression in the form of those hot salt tears. Miss Marjoribanks had never seen her look so pretty, and said so to herself, with a momentary and perfectly disinterested regret that there was body" to see her a regret which probably changed its character before Rose left the house. But in the mean time Lucilla soothed her and kissed her, and took off her hat and shed her pretty curls off her forehead. These curls were not by any means so strong and vehement in their twist as Miss Marjoribanks's own, but hung loosely and softly with the "sweet neglect" of the poet. "You would look very nice if you would take a little pains," Lucilla said, in |