to the weakness of liking to drink our coffee out of delicate porcelain, finjans (cups) of purple and gold placed on silver zeefs of exquisite filigree, which flash brightly as the fitful flames of the cooking-fire shed their light upon them. Nothing can be more elegant than this Oriental apparatus. The finjan, shaped like half an egg, and without a handle, is placed while you drink in the zeef or stand, like an acorn in its cup. or less perfumed. The common thorns exude a scented gum; the jasmin, everywhere fragrant, is doubly so in Arabia; while the rose surpasses in sweetness even those of the Fayoum and Serinaghur. It is not surpising, therefore, that the coffee of the Yemen mountains, through the general excellence of the soil, should be superior to that of other countries. Besides, as the tea of Japan is supposed to owe much of its fine flavor to the care and cleanliness The ladies of Egypt, to whom the joys practiced in its cultivation and picking, so of intoxication are not permitted, do all the coffee of Arabia may be much indebtthey can to make up for their absence, and ed to the skill and prudence of the husfind nothing come so near the mark as the bandmen. The berries having been gathexhilaration produced by Arabian coffee. ered with the greatest care, have equal atUnder its influence, they laugh, talk, sing, tention bestowed on their drying, packing, and tell stories, with as much vicacity as and mode of transport; though when ara Parisian belle, under the inspiration of rived at the ports of the Red Sea they pass champagne. After all, however, much of from under the eye of the Yemanis, and the agreeable effect must be attributed to are abandoned to the tender mercies of the climate. No one enveloped by the Hindus, Egyptians, Turks, Syrians, and moist atmosphere which prevails on the Greeks. Occasionally, these merchants banks of the Thames, the Seine, the Tiber, proceed to Beit-el-Fakih, in order to puror the Nile, drink what he may, can con- chase the best coffee on the spot, for the ceive the effect produced by the same bev-produce of the trees is divided into three erage in the pure, light, buoyant air of the desert, which in itself is almost intoxicating. This is the compensation which nature bestows on the wandering tribes for the want of beer and brandy. To them a few dates seem more delicious than turtle-soup to an alderman, while a finjan of Yemen coffee undoubtedly outdoes a glass of the richest Burgundy. As we have already said, there is something extremely peculiar in the soil of all Arabia, and this is nowhere more apparent than in the coffee and frankincese mountains and the valley of Tayef. All the vegetation of those regions is more sorts-first, the picked berries, from which all that are bruised, or ill-shaped, or too small, are separated; second, those which are left as gathered; third, the small and bruised, which, of course, are obtained at a much lower price. Reflection on this fact will explain why coffee really from Mocha is often of very inferior quality, and disappoints the buyer, who has formed perhaps an exalted idea of the fine produce of Yemen. Even the worst, however, of these berries are superior, in our opinion, to the finest Java, which is owing entirely to the qualities of the Arabian soil. fine spring morning we set out. The party consisted of C- and myself, who traveled on horseback; our English servant, who had charge of our two led-horses; and two Hottentots, one of whom drove the wagon, and the other acted as conductor to the leading pair out of the fourteen oxen by which it was drawn. In the wagon were stowed away some cooking utensils of the roughest description, a bell-tent, some biscuit and flour for ourselves, and a small supply of oats for the horses, to be reserved for a bonne bouche after extra hard work. Our party was completed by six pointers, destined to assist in the capture of the smaller game. For the more solid parts of our daily meals we trusted to our guns, which kept us pretty well supplied; and at evening we always looked out for some spot well supplied with wood and water, where we could encamp for the night. Perhaps those evening halts were the pleasantest hours in the whole expedition, when the wagon was out-spanned, as the Cape phrase goes, the fire lighted, the game cooked and eaten, and our party drew round the fire of acacia-wood, to discuss the day's adventures over a cup of coffee and a pipe of cavendish. Sometimes, when our way lay through inhabited districts, our impromptu soirée was attended by Bushmen, Hottentots, or friendly Caffres, who had accompanied us during the day, pointing out the likeliest places for game, or "spooring" an eland or a hartebeest, over ground where no European eye could discover the slightest trace of the footprints of any living creature. They were most useful to us, and thought themselves amply recompensed by a share in our supper, and a place by our fire. They often proved most entertaining companions; and as C- spoke a little Caffre, and several of them spoke broken Dutch, we were able to make out their stories. Told as they were in those strange lonely places, by the wood-fire, which cast its weird shadows on the tawny face of the narrator, with the darkness all round us, and the strange noises breaking now and then on that vast silence and solitude, every tale of peril and adventure, of doing and daring, sounded terribly real; far more so than I can make them appear, when read in an English drawing-room so many thousand miles from the great wilds to which they belong. Nevertheless, one of these stories made such an impression on me, that I am temptVOL. LVII.-NO. 1 ed to record it here, hoping to convey to others some faint degree of the breathless interest with which it was listened to by C and myself, as it was narrated by one of these chance acquaintances, a wiry little Hottentot, who sat crouching over the fire, helping out his story by graceful gesticulation, which increased in energy as our absorbed attention flattered and pleased him. Some years back, he told us, when he was a mere lad, he was in the service of a Dutch farmer in the Orange River Territory, a part of the country much infested by lions. It was his duty to drive his master's cattle to pasture every morning, and to bring them back to the farm at night, an employment which left a good many idle hours on his hands; and what boy, Hottentot or European, could, under such circumstances, have resisted an occasional ramble after the decoying honeybird,', or in search of ostrich-eggs, or of some of the other numerous treasures so congenial to boy-nature, with which those regions abound? The cattle who, during their keeper's absence, were, of course, left to their own devices, generally prov ed quite capable of taking care of themselves; but on one occasion, when the Hottentot counted them over before driving them home, he perceived that a fine milchcow was missing, having doubtless availed herself of one of his truant absences to wander away from the rest. To search for her then was impossible, and he could only trust to the carelessness of the upper servant, who often neglected to count over the animals as they entered the kraal. In this hope he was not deceived: the loss passed unnoticed; and he resolved that it should be replaced, if possible, before he had again to risk the chance of discovery. Animated by the remembrance of former punishments, he set out alone, and without telling any one, in quest of the missing cow. He took with him a little dried meat, and a gourd containing water, and started at a pace which few of his countrymen could have equaled, fleet of foot as they are; the immediate dread of the "samboch," or whip of rhinoceros hide, quite putting the more remote dangers of his lonely journey out of his head. An hour or two of daylight still remained, and he had no difficul ty in finding the "spoor" of the lost animal, which the unerring intelligence of his race enabled him to distinguish from that of any other of the herd; and he followed 2 it steadily, until the failing light made it undistinguishable from the footmarks of the wilde-beest or gnu which crossed and recrossed it perpetually. It became necessary to halt, and give up the pursuit for that night, and he did so, though feeling thoroughly disheartened at the non-appearance of the cow, for whose safety he now felt the most serious uneasiness. His own also became a matter of anxiety, as night closed in, with the sudden darkness of a tropical climate, and found him alone in that desolate country, far from all human help, and without any means of defense. He was not long in resolving what to do: he was determined, at all hazards, to find his lost charge, and would almost have preferred dying where he was to returning without her; besides which, it would have been madness to attempt to retrace his steps in the dark; so, after marking with his stick the spot on which he had left the "spoor," he looked about for some tree in which he could pass the night. He soon selected an acacia tree, which grew close by, and lost no time in climbing up and settling himself in a fork of the branches. He ate and drank sparingly, keeping a supply for the necessities of the morrow, and then completing his preparations by lashing himself to the main branch with his waist-belt, he drew his sheepskin blanket over his head, and composed himself to sleep. It was a still night; the silence only broken at intervals by the shrill notes of the screech-owl, the howl of the jackal, or the dreary laugh of the hyena-sounds to which our friend was too well accustomed to be kept awake by them. How long he slept, he did not know, but he was awakened by a noise far different from any of those which had been mixing with his dreams—a noise which, once heard, could never be forgotten. Full, deep, and ominously near rose the dreadful sound, waking all the echoes for miles round, yet seeming to come from under his very feet the terrible roar of a hungry lion. Loud as it was, it failed to rouse the tired boy into full consciousness, though it made him start till he strained the belt which fastened him to the tree. Scared and bewildered, and still only half-awake, he fancied for a moment that he was actually falling into the jaws of a lion; then asked himself, was the terrible sound a dream, conjured up by his unwonted sleeping-place? A second roar thoroughly awakened him, and looking down, he saw in the moonlight a large black-maned lion seated at the foot of the tree, his eyes fixed on himself, and his body motionless, save for an occasional angry lash of his tail. It was a dreadful moment; and the hours which followed were more dreadful still. All through that terrible night the savage beast sat watching his intended victim, and the terrified boy sat motionless also, afraid to stir, and almost to breathe, lest he should exasperate the lion. Once his cramped attitude became unbearable; come what might, he felt that he must stretch his stiffened limbs for a moment; and, as noiselessly as possible, he shifted his position: but he paid dearly for the momentary relief, for at his first cautious movement, the lion rose with a roar, and sprang at the tree, high enough to make the Hottentot's blood run cold, though not high enough to reach him. As he threw himself back, and coiled his limbs into a still more cramped position, he could hear the deadly claws scraping down the tree, with a sound which might well make his heart die within him. Again the disappointed animal took up his post at the foot of the tree; and now the moon began to wane, and again the sudden darkness came down on the face of the earth, and brought a little respite to the prisoner in the acacia-tree. Under its friendly shelter, he could at least stretch his stiff legs, and in spite of the horror of his situation, he dozed from time to time, always waking with a start to the same bewildered wonder, as to whether all this was a reality or a dream. He was finally wakened by the raw cold air which precedes the dawn, and by the rushing by of a herd of antelopes, fleeing before the face of the common enemy. It may be imagined in what breathless suspense he watched for the day which would probably decide his fate, how eagerly he listened for some sound which might show him whether or not the lion had abandoned his post. Once the cry of a springbok fawn, calling its mother, gave him hope: if the lion was still there, would not the creature's instinct warn it to flee? All too soon, however, the light grew stronger, and, by degrees, showed him the grim form at the foot of the tree-first in outline only, then the gleaming white teeth became visible, the cruel eyes still glaring up at him, the black mane, the savage face. Through all that long night the lion had not stirred. More wretched hours, and then the sun rose hot and scorching, darting its unsparing rays on the poor Hottentot, till his brain throbbed painfully. The lion, too, was evidently distressed; his tongue was lolling out of his mouth, his tail lashed his flanks uneasily. At last, toward noon, heat and thirst seemed to overcome him; and with a throbbing heart, the lad saw him moving slowly off. But he was mistaken if he supposed that the relentless animal would abandon his prey so easily; he stalked away a few paces, and then stopped, looking back with a low growl, a precaution which he repeated every minute or two, until he reached a pool of water, about two hundred yards from the tree, when he quenched his thirst, and hurried back to his post. All hope seemed gone now; and, almost in despair, the Hottentot saw day fade into evening, and evening into night. It is useless to describe that second night; it was worse than the first, inasmuch as the terrible end seemed more certain, and mind and body were alike worn out with terror and utter weariness; but, on the other hand, he was somewhat reassured by the failure of the lion's repeated attempts to reach him with a spring; and when daylight returned, he ventured, after refreshing himself with a little food and water, to climb higher up to a post whence he could look in the direction of his master's farm. His last hope now was, that the farmer or some of his fellow-servants might discover his absence, and come in search of him; and long and wearily did he strain his eyes in that direction. The rage of the lion, when he saw his prisoner move, was fearful to witness he tore up the ground, bit the tree and furrowed it with his claws; but the Hottentot felt more secure in his position than he had done at first, and, besides, the very despair of his situation gave him courage. Through all the hot hours of that long day he remained on the look-out, often fancying that the indistinct forms of the hartebeests or gnus were those of his master, or some of his stalwart sons, with their long rifles, coming to the rescue. led, with a sinking heart, to return to his former place, the only one in which he could fasten himself securely. As he began his cautious descent, his eye was caught by four dark objects in the distance coming toward him. His strained and dizzy eyes could hardly distinguish them, but surely, surely they were advancing; did his longing hope deceive him again, or was their line too even, their advance too regular, for that of a troop of wild animals? This time he was not mistaken; they came on slowly, but surely, and presently he could distinguish their forms, could see that they were four men on horseback. A slight rising-ground hid the lion from any one in that direction until within twenty yards of him. In all the tumult of his sudden relief, the Hottentot could perceive that; and taking off his skeep-skin, he waved it over his head, shouting with all his strength, "A lion! a lion !" long before his voice could reach his deliverers. They, meanwhile, came steadily on; and now he could recognize them, the old farmer himself heading the party, two of his tall sons, rifle in handa welcome sight-and a Hottentot servant carrying a flint-musket. The lion was raging furiously, maddened by the cries and gestures of his prisoner, who only thought of warning the advancing party of their danger, before they came on the animal unawares. Suddenly the Hottentot, who had dismounted, and was following the "spoor" on foot, stopped and looked up. Either the boy's cries had reached his ear, or his quick eye had caught sight of his figure, for he pointed toward the tree, and then, in an instant, he was on his horse, and the whole party advanced at a brisk gallop. This was a moment of great suspense to the poor worn-out Hottentot, who could hardly find voice to send out his warningcry: "A lion! a lion!" He saw the advancing party gallop on, till, on gaining the rising-ground, they suddenly haltedthey had seen the lion. The magnificent beast became aware of their presence at the same moment, and, with leisurely pace, advanced to meet them; then stood still, moving his tail slowly from side to side, and uttering a suppressed growl. His rage was a splendid sight; but it may be believed that his But every hope ended in disappoint- adversaries did not lose much time in conment; and at last, late in the afternoon, templating it. They had hastily dishe gave it up in utter despair, and prepar-mounted, and tied their horses together, : crack of the three rifles and the dead report of the flint-musket were heard at once. There was a terrible roar of pain and baffled rage; and the noble animal bounded forward in his agony, and fell at the feet of the farmer and his son. How the Hottentot got down from the tree, he never knew he remembered nothing afterward until he stood by the dying lion, and saw him receive his coup de grâce by a ball through the head. The farmer pronounced him the finest lion he had ever seen, and was so rejoiced at his death and at the safety of his servant, that our friend escaped the punishment, from dread of which he had nearly run on so horrible a fate. Of the truant cow, less fortunate than her keeper, only the larger bones were found, not far from the scene with their heads turned away from the From the Westminster Review. FRANCE AND NAPOLEON I I I. * represented the aspirations of the country, the political, religious, and social state of France was a sort of chaos, from which every one might deduce the arguments most applicable to the wants of his own cause. Under the shadow of the great silence of Imperialism, this chaos appears to have organized itself; and if not yet fit to appear in the light as a new world, its different constituent elements are sufficiently well grouped for us to study it as a whole, and to do so shall be the aim of this article. A GREAT silence has hung over France | put an end to the dreams, the longings, since Prince Louis Napoleon, ten years and the hopes of the parties which then ago, placed on his head the Imperial crown worn by his uncle. The press, weighed down by Draconian laws, dares not discuss any question seriously the Tribune is mute; and it is only during the short official debates on the Address that the real thought of the country succeeds in manifesting itself. All is not dead, however, in this strange land, which emerges out of its chronic agitations only to pass into a phase of coma, in its turn succeeded by a headlong plunge into new troubles. The divers elements stirred up by the Revolution of 1848 have not subsided as radically as the world seems to think, and the allegory of the Seven Sleepers might be applied to certain sections of French public opinion. When the coup d'état of 1851 came to * La France libérale en face de l'Europe. 8vo. Paris. 1861, Napoleon et la France libérale. 8vo. Paris. 1861. After a three years' sterile and painful experience of the Republic, a singular compromise had, in the month of December, 1851, gathered the innumerable fractions that then split up public opinion into two great parties-the one of Order, the other of Disorder. The first included all those who from conviction or interest rallied round the principle of authority; the second, all those who adhered to the |