three lions. There are bold mouldings at intervals up its stem, which is surmounted by a ball or orb rather less than a foot in diameter; and on this ball stands the bird, with beak slightly open and wings outspread, sturdy, prim, and square, though made to revolve upon the stem just below its standing-place. There is a richly sculptured porch to this church with a chamber over it, a stone stair leading up to it, and with a stone-groined roof, and various other features of interest, yet this quaint item holds our remem brance after some of them are forgotten. interesting specimens of ancient brass | stands only two inches short of six eagles in their college chapels. The feet in height, and its base rests on county of Norfolk, too, is rich in them; Southampton has two, one of which is very fine, and supported on four lions; Bristol has two, one in St. Mary Redcliffe, and the other in St. Mary-lePort; Southwell Minster has a grand example which is said to have belonged to Newstead Abbey; and there are others to be met with here and there, as at Campden in Gloucestershire, Huish Champflower in Somersetshire, Salisbury, and Croydon. There is an example of a wooden eagle in Winchester Cathedral; another in All Saints' Church, Monksilver, Somersetshire; and another in Exeter, in St. Thomas's Church. There are a few examples of ancient brass lecterns without eagles. An oaken lectern, with four desks, in St. Martin's Church, Deptling, Kent, is very richly carved. And other oaken examples may be seen in other churches in the same county, as well as in Surrey and Cheshire especially. There is a very early one in Holy Cross Church, Bury, Huntingdonshire. There is an interesting brass eagle in Long Sutton Church, Lincolnshire. It One of the three superb old churches in Coventry has a fine brass lectern. This edifice, the proud possessor of one of the "three tall spires" for which the city is celebrated, is pervaded with special charm, as it retains most of the touches given to it when first built. Like its two grand comrades, Trinity Church is light, lofty, and spacious; and like them it is full of memories of the industrious citizens who made Coventry a place of note in former times. A Bird's Intelligence.-A lady who was one day watching a pair of redstarts as they worked in a tree was startled by a violent commotion that arose in the shrubbery hard by. Catbirds screamed, wrens scolded, and the robins shouted "Quick!" with all their might. A chipmunk was dragging a baby catbird by the leg from its nest and all the birds round about had come to help make a row about it, including a Baltimore oriole. The screaming and the swish of wings as the birds darted about made the squirrel abandon its prey, and then the commotion subsided as quickly as it had risen. All the birds but the oriole went about their business elsewhere. The oriole had not said a word so far and, beyond the countenancing the hubbub, by his presence, had had no part in it. The squirrel, having dropped the baby catbird, cocked itself upon a limb and began to chatter in a defiant way, while the oriole sat not far away looking but doing nothing else. But in a few moments the squirrel left its seat and ran out on the limb it had been sitting on until it had to use more care to keep its hold and then the oriole's opportunity for a terrible assault had come. Flashing across the space he struck the chipmunk in one eye with his sharp-pointed beak, and then turning instantly, struck the other eye in like manner. Quivering with pain, the squirrel let go the limb and dropped to the ground, where it rolled and struggled about apparently in the throes of death. The oriole flew away to its favorite elm, where he sang in the most brilliant fashion. The lady put the squirrel out of its misery, and then saw that the oriole had destroyed both eyes. For SIX DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually for warded for a year, free of postage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & CO. Single copies of the LIVING AGE, 15 cents. From The Nineteenth Century. KASHMIR. BY SIR LEPEL GRIFFIN. Among the districts of the world famous for beauty of whatever type, the Valley of Kashmir holds the first place. It triumphantly carries away the prize of loveliness from Switzerland, the Yellowstone Park, the Italian Lakes, Ceylon, the highlands of Scotland, and many other fair and celebrated rivals. Its supreme charm, like that of Cleopatra, is its infinite variety, a microcosm of the world itself, each part perfection; filled, like the Garden of Eden, with everything that can delight the eye. And other rarer beauties belong to Kashmir which Eden could not possess; for natural beauty is in part composed of sentiment and association, and a paradise in which is found no trace of the vigor and intellect and work of man loses much of its attraction. A railway embankment, with the fleeting cloud of a passing locomotive, relieves the monotonous beauty of a silent solitude, and the stucco towers which look down upon the Rhine comfort the poor human soul, which faints and fails in the presence of the eternal desolation of the Yosemite Valley. Nature is too antipathetic and even hostile to civilized man for it to be possible to enjoy her beauty in too prolonged a honeymoon. And to those who realize this, and do not desire, like St. Simeon Stylites, to live above and beyond human emotions, Kashmir is complete and sufficient. For there, as part of the natural beauty in which they were born and nourished, an interesting race, an ancient and stately civilization, and a scientific religion had their home long before Romulus traced with a furrow the future walls of Rome. To pious Hindus the soil of Kashmir is still as sacred as was that of Palestine to Christians in the age of faith; the glorious goddess Parvati has sailed on its enchanted lake; the Pándavas, the semi-divine heroes of the great India epic, the "Mahábhárata," descended from the Kashmir mountains to war and conquest in Hindostan. Every village has its memorial of the old dynasties or the ancient creed, too often in overturned idols and ruined temples, where the foolish iconoclastic fury of Islám flamed against the harmless and tolerant beliefs of Brahmanism; and, chief of all, commanding what has been pronounced the most beautiful view in the known world, still stands in ruined glory the stately Temple of the Sun at Martand, looking down the glorious valley one hundred miles in length and eighty in width, an emerald of verdure enclosed in a radiant amphitheatre of virgin snow. For the purely natural beauty of Kashmir, apart from living, human interest and archæological or historical association, no praise can seem extravagant to those who have visited it or who have lived within the farstretching fascination of its snowclad mountains, which dominate the whole northern plain of the Punjab, from Umbala to Peshawar. From the battlements of the fortress of Lahore the white line of the Pir Panjal lies athwart the northern sky, in the early spring or whenever the grateful rain has washed the atmosphere free of its customary veil of haze and dust; from Jalandhar, Amritsar, Jhelam, and Rawulpindi the same glorious wall of snow rejoices the heart and braces the nerves of all who look upon it with unceasing admiration from the sad, sun-beaten plains below. And as the traveller rises higher through gorge and pass, the Pir Panjál, a rival in height to Mont Blanc, becomes of small account in the vast wilderness of mountains which rise behind the valley, range upon range, to the divinityhaunted citadel of Nanga-Parbat, nearly twenty-seven thousand feet above the sea. Leaving the austere glories of the mountain peaks, the Valley of Kashmir, with its many offshoots, is altogether beautiful: a land of streams, from the rivers Jhelam and Kishnganga to a thousand brooks and fountains flowing from the dark pine forests to the lower slopes, where their waters are all but hidden beneath the wealth of foliage and flowers-wild | Baramulla, the gateway of the earthly roses, clematis, and honeysuckle. And paradise. although wave after wave of Muhamadanism has swept over the valley and the mass of the population belong to that strait-laced and somewhat gloomy creed, Kashmir belongs to Hinduism as Rome is the common inheritance of Christendom, and the old gods have by no means accepted annihilation. Though Great Pan be dead in Greece, the twilight of the gods is not yet in Kashmir. Every grove has its familiar deity, every clear spring or rushing torrent its water-nymph. The picturesque pantheism which is but the outward and popular garb of the higher and more etherial monotheism, which sees God everywhere in nature, which hears his voice in rolling thunder and peoples the woods and streams with supernatural life derived from him, is a gracious belief more suited to the idyllic Valley of Kashmir than the gross materialism which would seem the only religion in this England of ours, where the golden calf is set up for public worship, between a ballet girl and a French cook. I wish that it were possible to attract to Kashmir the attention of intelligent, travel-loving, and well-to-do English people, that they might understand that in this glorious valley was a playground in every way superior to the threadbare and drop-scene Switzerland, where one peak answers to another in the high-pitched accents of Cockaigne or Chicago. The expense of the expedition is not great, and, indeed, six months of Kashmir would not cost a third of the outgoings of an ordinary London season. Distance! The meaning of the word is all but forgotten; for science has obliterated space, and difficulties no more exist in the journey to Kashmir than for the Persian possessor of the magic carpet that bore him through the air. A fortnight of a luxurious voyage through summer seas; two or three days' train journey to Rawulpindi, through a strange, new land; two days' easy drive through glorious Himalayan scenery, and the fortunate traveller finds himself at There is a special and sufficient reason for calling attention to Kashmir at the present moment. Were there no such reason this article would have no raison d'être; for the beauty of the country, which has inspired Persian and English poets alike, requires no praise from me. But Kashmir has, after generations of misery, depression, and depopulation, just reached a position which promises future prosperity, and for this result the British government, the maharaja, and the English officers in the service of the Kashmir State are equally entitled to praise the first for the generosity and good faith with which it has dealt with a feudatory State; the prince for the good sense with which he not only accepted inevitable reforms, but cordially and loyally carried them out; and the last for the brilliant and devoted manner in which they have worked for the permanent advantage of the State. When the late maharaja, Ranbir Singh, died, in 1885, the government of India considered that the time had come to revise their relations with Kashmir. The approach of Russia to our northwestern frontier had given Kashmir a new and vital importance, and it was imperative for the government, upon whom the danger and responsibility in the event of invasion must fall, to take such measures as appeared suitable or necessary to guard its borders and hold the command of the northern passes through the higher Himalayan ranges into the Kashmir Valley. It was decided to occupy the northern frontier post of Gilgit with a garrison under English officers; to connect it with Srinagar, the capital of the valley, by a military road across the wilderness of mountains, two hundred and thirty miles in length, crossing the difficult Burzil Pass, thirteen thousand six hundred feet above the sea; and to induce the maharaja to allow some portion of his nondescript army to be properly drilled and disciplined, so as to be able to take a creditable place in the system of imperial defence. So |