the exponents of an extinct creed. The tide of popularity has ebbed away from all the measures with which they had connected their names; and Lord Russell, the great champion of reform, the statesman par excellence of innovation, has at length given up the mission of his life and rung the knell of Liberalism by his recent memorable exhortation to the country to "rest and be thankful."

If we turn from home to foreign affairs, we find a remarkable series of failures, which unfortunately are as disastrous to the interests of the country as they are to the reputation of the Ministry. Lord Palmerston, who declared at Tiverton, immediately before taking office in 1859, that he hoped to see the Austrians entirely driven out of Italy before the end of the year, had not been a month in office before the French Emperor gave him his first disappointment by summarily closing the war at Villafranca. Next, as the natural and prearranged close of a war which Lord Palmerston had so loudly approved, came the cession of Savoy and Nice-which the Emperor coolly carried out, in complete disregard of the noisy declamations of the British Ministry, as well as of the "moral influence" of England, which they boasted to have made so powerful on the Continent. To this day, also, despite the despatches of Earl Russell and the aforesaid "moral influence," the French troops still keep possession of Rome, and prevent the unification of Italy. We have already spoken of the peculiar policy of the Ministry on the Polish question, in which it almost seemed to court the rebuff which was so unceremoniously administered to it. And in the Dano-German question, after a whole series of warlike despatches and noisy denunciations, it has ended by sacrificing the Power which it had taught to rely upon it for material support. It is curious also to observe that, in this question, the Ministry has adopted

VOL. XCV.-NO. DLXXXIII.

the very opposite principle from that which influenced it in the Italian question. In Italy everything was right which tended to carry out the principle of nationality. It did not matter how illegal was the procedure, how dishonourable the plots, by which the cause of nationality was advanced in Italy: they were not only condoned but openly justified and extolled by Lord Palmerston and his colleagues. But again the question of Nationality has affected the affairs of Europe, and how different is the attitude of the British Government! What the Italians did illegally, the Germans are doing legally; yet Lord Palmerston abuses the Germans as noisily as he commended the Italians. The Germans have gone to war with Denmark in order to maintain the rights (doubtless also with the ulterior view of establishing the independence) of the German population subject to the Danish crown. Surely such a cause should have enjoyed the cordial approval of the Liberal Ministry, which had played so demonstrative a part when a similar question was at issue in Italy. But no: the Ministry has changed its principles on this as on all other questions; and instead of supporting its pet principle of nationality, has been willing to go to war with the Germans for mooting it. Inexplicable inconsistencies, also, mark the speeches and despatches of the Cabinet. While Lord Palmerston on every occasion denounces the invasion of the Duchies as an "outrage," an "infamous aggression," Lord Russell shows in his despatches that the Germans were legally entitled to intervene, in order to obtain from Denmark fulfilment of engagements which she had not only disregarded but directly violated. His Lordship states this plainly in his despatches passim. For example, on 17th December he writes as follows to Lord Wodehouse: "The fundamental law for Denmark Proper and Schleswig,

2 Y

which was sanctioned on the 18th November 1863, is virtually an incorporation of Schleswig with Denmark. . . . The new constitution, therefore, being without the requisite sanction of the duchy of Schleswig, and being contrary to the engagements of the crown of Denmark, ought, so far as Schleswig is concerned, to be repealed." And on the same day he wrote as follows to Mr Murray :-"A violation of the engagements taken by Denmark in 1851-2 towards Germany is an offence which may properly be resented, and for which redress may be claimed." Here, then, we find that while the Premier treats the invasion of the Duchies as "an infamous aggression," the Foreign Secretary states explicitly that Denmark had "violated her engagements," and that such a violation was a well-founded casus belli-an act which "may properly be resented, and for which redress may be claimed." How are we to reconcile such a divergence of opinion on the part of the two leading members of the Cabinet? How are we to account for the sudden forgetfulness of the principle of nationality which has come over both Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell, not to speak of their colleagues and subordinates? How are we to explain Lord Russell's menaces towards the German Powers, when he himself states that they were fully entitled to take measures for obtaining redress? And above all, how is it possible to excuse the Ministry for leading Denmark to expect material assistance from this country, up to the very time that hostilities began, and thereafter first hesitating and then resiling, leaving Denmark in the lurch? The policy of the Government is an enigma-its diplomacy is a chaos.

The Lord Palmerston of to-day is not his former self. Doubtless even the most vigorous capacity must begin to decline when life has overstepped its ordinary limit of fourscore years. But it is rather to the indirect than to the direct effects of advancing age that we attribute the peculiar differences which the veteran Premier now presents to the Palmerston of former days. A natural but dangerous ambition prompts him to keep in office to the last. Were he to fall, he could not look forward to another Premiership. His has been the greatest reputation of any English statesman since Sir Robert Peel. Indeed, of late years there has been an enthusiasm for Palmerston such as there was not for Peel. But that enthusiasm is waning. The Cabinet has become wholly discredited. Blunder after blunder, failure after failure, has marked its career. In foreign affairs its power is paralysed by disunion. At the critical juncture, a line of policy which had been followed for months is suddenly abandoned in consequence of a split in the Cabinet. Eager to remain in power to the last, Lord Palmerston gives way before threats of a secession which would endanger his Ministry. Rather than resign, he becomes a roi fainéant. But the interests of the country suffer from such a course. The moral influence of England is temporarily annihilated; our threats of hostility are disregarded and contemned; and our promises of material assistance are given only to be broken. present, England has not a single ally, and her name has become a laughingstock among the great Powers. She is a terror to no one, and a danger only to those who trust in her.

At

IT was like a return to his former self-to his gay, happy, careless nature for Tony Butler to find himself with his friend Skeffy. As painters lay layers of the same colour on, one over the other, to deepen the effect, so does youth double itself by companionship. As for Skeffy, never did a schoolboy exult more in a holiday, and, like a schoolboy, his spirits boiled over in all manner of small excesses, practical jokes on his fellow-passengers, and all those glorious tomfooleries, to be able to do which, with zest, is worth all the enjoyment that ever cynicism yielded twice told.

“I was afraid you wouldn't come. I didn't see you when the coach drove into the inn yard; and I was so disappointed," said Tony, as he surveyed the mass of luggage which the guard seemed never to finish depositing before his friend.

"Two portmanteaus, sir," said the guard, "three carpet-bags, a dressing-case, a hat-box, a gun-case, bundle of sticks and umbrellas, and I think this parrot and cage, are yours."

VOL. XCV.-NO. DLXXXIV.

"A parrot, Skeffy!"

"For Mrs Maxwell, you dog: she loves parrots, and I gave ten guineas for that beggar, because they assured me he could positively keep up a conversation; and the only thing he can say is, 'Don't you wish you may get it?""

No sooner had the bird heard the words than he screamed them out with a wild and scornful cry that made them sound like a bitter mockery.

"There-that's at me," whispered Skeffy-"at me and my chance of Tilney. I'm half inclined to wring his neck when I hear it."

"Are you looking for any one, Harris?" asked Tony of a servant in livery who had just ridden into the yard.

"Yes, sir; I have a letter from my mistress for a gentleman that was to have come by the mail."

"Here he is," said Tony, as he glanced at the address. "This is Mr Skeffington Damer."

While Skeffy broke the seal, Tony muttered in his ear, "Mind, old fellow, you are to come to us before

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me.

matter how

you go to Tilney, no pressing she may be." "Here's a business," said Skeffy; as well as I can make out her old pothooks, it is that she can't receive 'My dear' she first wrote 'Nephew,' but it's smudged out 'My dear Cousin Damer, I am much distressed to tell you that you must not come here. It is the scarlatina, which the doctors all think highly infectious, though we burn cinnamon and that other thing through all the rooms. My advice would be to go to Harrogate, or some nice place, to amuse yourself, and I enclose this piece of thin paper.' Where is it, though?" said he, opening the letter and shaking it.

"Just think of the old woman forgetting to put up the enclosure!"

"Try the envelope!" cried Tony, eagerly; but no, the envelope was also empty, and it was plain enough she had omitted it.

Skeffy read on "I had a very pretty pony for you here, and I remember Lydia Damer told me how nice you looked riding, with the long curls down your back.' Why, that was five-and-twenty years ago!" cried he, with a scream of laughter "just, fancy, Tony!" and he ran his fingers through his hair. "How am I ever to keep up the illusion with this crop! "But'"-he went on to read "But I suppose I shall not see that now. I shall be eighty-one next November. Mind that you drink my health on the 22d, if I be alive. I could send you the pony if you thought it would not be too expensive to keep him in London. Tilney is looking beautiful, and the trees are budding as if it were spring. Drop me a line before you leave the neighbourhood; and believe me, your affectionate godmother,

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"DINAH MAXWELL.'

telligible utterance broke from the parrot at this instant.

"Yes, you beggar, 'you wish I may get it.' By the way, the servant can take that fellow back with him: I am right glad to be rid of him."

"It's the old adage of the ill wind," said Tony, laughing.

"How so? What do you mean?" "I mean that your ill-luck is our good fortune; for as you can't go to Tilney, you'll have to stay the longer with us."

Skeffy seized his hand and gave it a cordial shake, and the two young fellows looked fully and frankly at each other, as men do look before the game of life has caught too strong a hold upon their hearts, and taught them over-anxiety to rise winners from it.

"Now then for your chateau," said Skeffy, as he leaped up on the car, already half-hidden beneath his luggage.

Our chateau is a thatched cabin," said Tony, blushing in spite of all his attempts to seem at ease. "It is only a friend would have heart to face its humble fare."

Not heeding, if he even heard, the remark, Skeffy rattled on about everything-past, present, and future; talked of their jolly dinner at Richmond, and of each of their companions on that gay day; asked the names of the various places they passed on the road-what were the usual fortunes of the proprietors, how they spent them, and, seldom waiting for the answer, started some new query, to be forgotten in its turn.

"It is a finer country to ride over," said Tony, anxious to say something favourable for his locality,

66 than to look at. It is not pretty, perhaps, but there's plenty of grass, and no end of stone walls to jump, and in the season there's some capital trout-fishing too."

"Don't care a copper for either. I'd rather see a new pantomime than the best stag-hunt in Europe. I'd rather see Tom Salter do the double spring backwards than I'd see them take a whale."

"I'm not of your mind, then," said Tony. "I'd rather be out on the hillside of a dull, good-scenting day-well mounted, of course-and hear the dogs as they rushed yelping through the cover."

"Yoics, yoics, yoics! I saw it all at Astley's, and they took a gate in rare style: but, I say, what is that tower yonder topping the trees?"

"That is Lyle Abbey, Sir Arthur Lyle's place."

"Lyle-Lyle. There was such a picture in the Exhibition last year of two sisters, Maud, or Alice, or Bella Lyle, and another, by Watts. I used to go every morning, before I went down to the Office, to have a look at them, and I never was quite certain which I was in love with." "They are here; they are Sir Arthur's daughters.'

"You don't say so! And do you know them, Tony?"

"As well as if they were my sisters."

"Ain't I in luck!" cried Skeffy, in exultation. "I'd have gone to Tarnoff-that's the place Holmes was named consul at, and wrote back word that it didn't exist, and that the geography fellows were only hoaxing the Office! just fancy, hoaxing the Office! Hulloa!-what have we here? a four-horse team, by all that's stunning."

"Mrs Trafford's. Draw up at the side of the road till they pass, Peter," said Tony, hurriedly. The servant on the box of the carriage had, however, apparently announced Tony Butler's presence, for the postilions slackened their pace, and came to a dead halt a few paces in front of the car.

"My mistress, sir, would be glad to speak to you," said the servant, approaching Tony.

"Is she alone, Coles ?" asked he, as he descended from the car. "Yes, sir."

Somewhat reassured by this, but at the same time not a little agitated, Tony drew nigh the carriage. Mrs Trafford was wrapped up in a large fur mantle-the day was a cold

one-and lay back without making any movement to salute, except a slight bend of the head as he approached.

"I have to apologise for stopping you," said she, coldly; "but I had a message to give you from Mr Maitland, who left this a couple of days ago."

"Is he gone-gone for good?" asked Tony, not really knowing what he said.

"I don't exactly know what 'for good' means," said she, smiling faintly; "but I believe he has not any intention to return here. His message was to say that, being much pressed for time, he had not an opportunity to reply to your note."

"I don't think it required an answer," broke in Tony, sternly.

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Perhaps not as regarded you, but possibly it did as respected himself."

"I don't understand you."

"What I mean is, that, as you had declined his offer, you might possibly, from inadvertence or any other cause, allude to it; whereas he expressly wished that the subject should never be mentioned."

"You were apparently very much in his confidence," said Tony, fixing his eyes steadily on her.

"When I learn by what right you ask me that question, I'll answer it," said she, just as defiantly.

Tony's face became crimson, and he could not utter a word. At last he stammered out, "I have a friend here, Mr Damer: he is just come over to pay a visit at Tilney, and Mrs Maxwell sends him a note to say that they are all ill there."

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Only Bella, and she is better." "And was Bella ill?" asked Tony, eagerly.

"Yes, since Tuesday; on Wednesday, and even up to Friday, very ill. There was a time this could scarcely have happened without your coming to ask after her.”

"Is it my fault, Alice? First of all, I never knew it. You know well I go nowhere. I do not mix with those who frequent grand houses. But tell me of Bella."