But sometimes the panic stage arrives too suddenly. It has happened more than once within the last half-century that the raising of the rate proved too feeble a weapon, and the drain has continued until the whole of the bank's reserve has been exhausted. Upon these occasions resort was had to means that may be called extralegal. With the permission of the government, usually signified by letter from the prime minister and the chancellor of the exchequer, the restriction on the issue of Bank of England notes was removed, and an additional supply was thereby provided of what everybody recognized as money.

It is a remarkable circumstance in connection with such a crisis in financial and commercial affairs as has just been described, that it seems to arrive at regular intervals. Taking this year of grace 1890 and going back through the century, we find that every ten or eleven years or thereabouts there was a crisis of more or less intensity; for 1878, 1866, 1857, 1847, 1836-39, 1825-26, and 1815 were all of them marked by special commercial disturbance. There is a reason for this periodicity. The movement of trade is not a steady onward march, a rapid or slow but continuous progress; it is rather a tide which advances and recedes, a tide which requires a number of years for its full ebb and flow. Supposing we take as a starting-point a season when the harvest has been very abundant. The difference which an unusually good harvest makes to the prosperity of the country amounts to very many millions of money; but only after the lapse of years will its effects be fully realized by the entire community. At first sight it seems as if only farmers and landlords should benefit by it, but no great advantage ever falls to any large interest in the country, of which in the end all classes do not obtain some share. Not only are the extra profits of agriculture

We have to keep in view, further, that years of unusual prosperity or adversity do not as a rule come singly, but in groups. The effect, therefore, is cumulative; and if there is a cycle in commercial affairs, we ought to expect that it can only be completed within a period of years.

It is when the tide of prosperity is flow. ing most freely that the conditions of a calamitous crisis are prepared. So long as the profits of agriculture and trade remain low, so long as the industries of the country do little more than maintain their footing without much prospect of improvement, there is little danger of any great catastrophe. A cautious and thrifty spirit prevails at such a time, and whatever surplus may be realized is carefully husbanded. But when plentiful seasons follow each other, when trade becomes active and profitable, and savings accumulate, a change comes over the spirit of commerce and finance. Capital is then outgrowing the amount which can be prof itably used in the normal expansion of business. There is always a margin in the national income which remains unused and is seeking investment. The amount of this margin in our country is now reckoned at about £200,000,000 a year. This is so much added to the capital which is ready to be invested in any promising enterprise. It may be affirmed generally that this capital at all times exceeds what can be absorbed by really sound and profitable undertakings. We may take this to be now the permanent condition of things, but it is greatly aggravated when a long period of growing prosperity has been reached. Then occurs what ought not to be difficult to foresee the demand for channels of investment creates its own supply. A mania for speculation sets in, and capital is freely expended it may be upon enterprises of great permanent value; or it may be for it seems very much a matter of chance upon unsound and even ridiculous projects. It is seldom indeed that this investing and speculating mood, engendered by cheap money and the feeling of general prosperity, can be restrained within reasonable bounds; sel

dom that it does not outrun them so far as to bring financial troubles and disasters. The recent crisis is not hard to be accounted for, consistently with the theory that has just been explained. One important feature peculiar to it should not be forgotten. Mr. Goschen reduced the interest upon consols to two and threequarters per cent., an operation which he performed with a skill and success that seems very astounding when we consider the price to which the new stock has since fallen. As an inevitable result of that reduction, much of the money hitherto invested in consols has sought other channels. An active demand had already for some time been in existence for new securities, and a stimulus which was little needed was thus given to it. The new securities were forthcoming, in the shape of mines, brewery companies, financial trusts, and the loans and enterprises of foreign states. Amongst those who were ready to supply the demand for new securities to any extent was the government of the Argentine Republic, which, besides the amounts they borrowed for purely governmental purposes, freely issued guarantees to railway and other great undertakings in their territory. The nominal value of Argentine securities in Europe of all sorts-national, provincial, and municipal obligations, together with Cedulas, railway and other stocks is said to approach £200,000,000.

There are no doubt great natural resources in the Argentine territory, but it must be said that the rate at which these securities have been poured into the European money market is eloquent of the extravagance which characterizes governments that are unstable and reckless of the future.

Of the crisis of 1890 the lesson most emphatically taught was the old one, to let caution and thorough knowledge be our constant guides in all financial affairs.

From Murray's Magazine.

A TOUR IN BURMAH.

IT has been my fate of late years to spend a certain length of time in India and Burmah, and when, on coming home the other day, I joined the tide of English travellers which, gathering from Colombo and Calcutta, blends at Singapore, and sweeps on by Hong Kong and Japan to San Francisco, and heard many of them relating where they had been, I was

struck by the great number who had, so to speak, passed by the open door of Burmah without looking in to see what lay inside. And I fancy I disturbed the equanimity of one or two of these for the moment, by telling them, in the midst of their enumeration of the wonders of the earth at which they had gazed, that I thought they had omitted that which was, to the passing traveller, the most entrancing and interesting country of all.

On the other hand, some whom I met had been wisely advised to see, if no more, at least so much of the country as a visit to Rangoon and a steamer trip up the Irrawaddy would afford, and, of these, all agreed that it was in very many respects the most delightful of the many strange plaçes they had seen.

To theirs I must add my own humble testimony. I have been in almost every part of the globe but South America and Australia; have climbed the passes of the Himalayas and ridden for weeks over the broad plains of South Africa, have roamed about the magnificent jungles of Cochin, wandered into harbors in the east coast of Africa scarcely noted on the map, toured through Japan, drunk champagne (of a sort) with native governors of Madagascan ports, and alike explored the peace. ful bathing ghâts of Benares and the wild scenery of the Rocky Mountains; but nowhere, except perhaps in Japan, have I found the interest of travel so varied as in British Burmah, nor any paradise for the voyager where (for a short tour) the comforts and the wonderments of life lie in such agreeable proximity.

And this is perhaps not its least recommendation. For if one is not sojourning in foreign lands from motives connected with either honor, sport, or profit, what is there that can compensate for discomfort?

The traveller, on the other hand, who lands at Rangoon (where, as well as at Mandalay, he will find very tolerable hotels to receive him), can, after seeing the former most curious town, embark in a day or two on board one of the excellent "flats" which ply up and down the beautiful Irrawaddy, and, with all the comfort of a Rhine steamer, journey at his leisure far up the river to a point some way be yond Mandalay either living continuously on board, or, if armed with a letter or two of introduction, landing for a short visit at various points on the way.

His food and sleeping accommodation on board are of the best, and for my part I know nothing more delightful than to sit in a comfortable chair on the ample

deck of one of these steamers, and shoot through the rippling waters of this noble stream, past, on either side, a perpetually changing panorama of forest-clad mountains, emphasized here and there with a gold pagoda or a wood-carved monastery, or, anon, tapering out into a spit of sand covered with wild fowl.

To begin with Rangoon; the pagoda there and its surroundings furnish a tout ensemble of color and form that I have never seen elsewhere equalled. All that is most curious and intricate in wood sculpture, all that is most bright and telling in color-beginning with the huge dragons at the foot of the staircase that leads up to the pagoda, and going upwards with the gaily robed crowd of cheerful worshippers who throng the way, to the vast pile of gilding at the top, with its varied surroundings of temples and shrines-all these are here brought into one comparatively small focus, to fail to appreciate which would argue one blazé indeed.

I spoke of the brightly dressed crowd. Travellers in the East are apt to be much disappointed when they first arrive there with the non-display of "Oriental coloring," and, indeed, upon those who have formed their ideas of such things on memories of the colored and illustrated Bibles of their youth, or a lecture illuminated by dissolving views of painted photographs, the dinginess of the women's dress in Egypt and that of the men's dress in many parts of India, will undoubtedly produce some such effect. But let our traveller take heart of grace; let him push on to Burmah, and he will see on festal occasions in the streets and temples of Rangoon, and elsewhere in that country, crowds compared to which a group of jockeys might look dull, and a flower-bed at a seaside watering place appear as quiet and prosaic as a patch of potatoes.

For here men and women, old and young, all seem to vie with one another in brilliancy of dress, and all, or almost all, dress in silk.

The men, with a strip of silk twisted towel-fashion round the waist, and the long end that remains hung round the back and over the shoulder, somewhat as a Scotch plaid is occasionally adjusted; a brilliant handkerchief on the head, a long, flexible cane with silver top in the hand, and a good-humored and cheerful person inside all this, complete the sketch of a Burmese dandy.

The ladies wear a piece of silk wound tightly round their body from waist to feet, topped by a white jacket above;

their really beautiful hair carefully dressed in something like the modern European fashion of combing it upwards from the back of the neck, and a silk scarf hanging loosely round the shoulders, much in the way our grandmothers used to wear such adornment; the slightest touch of facepowder is added to the complexion, and off sets madame, walking very erectly along, her arms swinging at her sides with a curious, swaggering air, the while she puffs occasionally at an enormous cheroot. Checks and stripes are the favorite patterns for the dresses, especially in the case of the men but such checks and such stripes! Chess patterns with the squares four or five inches wide, stripes of flamecolor and yellow, flame-color and crimson, plum-color and apple-green, etc., etc., in infinite variety. I spent two years in Burmah, and, except one pattern rather frequently worn in cotton fabrics by the poorer classes, I don't think I ever noticed the exact ditto of a check I had seen before.

All these silks are made in the country. It is the rarest thing, as far as my limited experience goes, to see English fabrics worn for dress. In the case of the headkerchief, however, I regret to say that the opposite rule holds, and I never saw one which was not of English make. The manufacturer's taste is however merciful, and plain colors and harmless patterns are generally used, in a cheap, fluffy quality of silk.

One of the most interesting points to observe in the Burmese population is the variety of their features and expressions. This is particularly noticeable after any length of time spent in India, where the poorer inhabitants of any particular district seem to be all cast, as to their faces, in one mould. In Burmah, on the contrary, it is as interesting to watch a pass. ing crowd as it often is in England. There are, certainly, types into which many of the faces may be grouped, and very distinct ones, but they are much more numerous than in India, and a great portion, say one-third of the population, come under no particular type of face as far as I could see, but might be classed as "miscellaneous."

As to the inner life of the people, the mainsprings of their conduct, their modes of thought, and any enquiries into the psychological structure which leads to what is visible of their habits and actions, it would, of course, be grossly audacious of me to speak; as, beyond the entire absence of other qualifications on my part

Before I go further I may as well say one word regarding the climate. Burmah is essentially a hot country - perhaps I should better describe it as a steamy one, and to my mind has an unhealthy climate for many constitutions, if exposed for any length of time to its influences during the summer months—say from April to September, both included. It is, however, a very different thing to live off the river, among unwholesome surroundings and under unhealthy conditions, as many have had to do of late years, from passing through the country at the best time of the year, surrounded by numerous comforts and spending the greater portion of the time among the breezes which are never long absent from the river; and under the latter circumstances I distinctly consider that the country is more healthy than most parts of India.

On the way up the river there are various places of more than a passing interest to be seen: Miuhla, with its fort, in which were found the chains, each duly supplied with a sixpenny padlock, that were sent down by Theebaw in '85 to secure the "audacious invaders; Myingyan, with its most interesting manufactures of iron and glass work; Yenangyoung, with its petroleum wells; Pagan, with its acres of deserted and ruined shrines; the Ruby Mines; Mandalay, a quite unique city, with its marvellous temples and its Incomparable Pagoda, and further up the river the beautiful gorges and magnificent passes through which the river narrows - all these afford a constant succession of sights of very varying interest indeed.

As to the art of the land. The art of Burmah is quite distinct from that of the neighboring countries, and has a character all its own. The silver work is especially noticeable, the best coming, I believe, from Thayatmyo and Rangoon. It has a massiveness that at first recalls the Swami work of Madras, but without any of the oppressive heaviness and grossness that characterize the latter.

In wood-carving the Burmans surpass any race that I know, in the way of masses of elaborate detail combined to produce a general architectural effect; and their predilection for what, in the ab

nament, gives a very unique and charming character to the designs of their wooden buildings. Some, too, of their most successful effects are produced in the manufacture of the chests, or arks, in which are preserved in the monasteries the copies of various sacred writings. These effects are attained by applying to the front of the box some kind of black resinous plaster in an intricate pattern of bold relief, which is afterwards covered with convex fragments of colored glass. The whole is then varnished and duly finished off, and the effect finally produced is much that of a very good and very old stainedglass window. Other such chests are covered with a series of bas-reliefs giving incidents in the history of Gautama, or kindred subjects, and these are usually gilt all over. Examples of the above may be seen in the Indian section of the South Kensington Museum, but the glass work, though the best I could procure, is unequal to many specimens that I saw in the country.

Another manufacture of great interest is that of the iron work much used to ornament the tops of the pagodas. These latter are often surmounted by a so-called umbrella (tee); I suppose, as it were, an "umbrella of honor," generally made in the form of a series of crowns of pierced iron-work, often of the greatest beauty and lightness of design. A specimen of this may also be seen at the Museum.

Little has yet been written on Burmese art. A great authority on the subject is Mr. Tilly, now the deputy commissioner of the Yeu country, to whose knowledge and taste the recent Calcutta Exhibition was, I believe, indebted for the choice and superintendence of the art manufac tures shown in its Burmese section.

Of the scenery I have spoken little. The climate, with its humid warmth, favors the development of tropical vegetation, and the scenes in many of the dense jungles would be "difficult to beat," and, for me, quite impossible to adequately describe.

To my mind the one thing that during my recent time in the far East I look back upon as a distinct revelation of unexpected beauty is the interior of a jungle. No books that I had read had previously led me to expect anything of the sort, and the only one that I have come across that gives any idea of such scenes is that charming work of Sanderson's called "Thirteen Years among the Wild Beasts