;

It is not, in short, a mere theory of the transference of belief that logic proposes to deliver, but of the legitimate transference of belief. Belief is not truth, nor is the strength of belief the test of truth. It is plain, then, that, in order to know that I transfer my belief correctly, I must have some rule or criterion of the legitimacy of the transference. Such a rule it may be hard to find upon the associationtheory the fault of which seems to be that, like the universal solvent, it destroys the very power of believing even itself. But still, it must be at least pretended to be found: and accordingly, after long discourse to shew that we do not absolutely need major premisses, Mr. Mill purposes finally to supply us with a new set of these superfluous articles, in the shape of canons of induction.* With these however, logic, properly considered, has nothing to do. It only delivers the forms of valid reasoning-the conditions necessary for securing that the conclusion shall follow from the premisses. It supposes our ultimate rules of truth fixed, and only shews us how to apply them.

We wish we had time to follow Mr. Kidd through what is undoubtedly the most original part of his book-the discussion of the Ultimate Principle of Induction-the Constancy of Nature's Laws-and the Analysis of Necessary Truth.

To what the Archbishop has said upon the form of Inductive Reasoning (and which seems to us sufficient for all logical purposes), Mr. Kidd superadds a most ingenious further analysis of Inductive Probability.

The further analysis of Inductive Probability, so far as is necessary for the purposes of this treatise, may be briefly stated as follows. Let us suppose that we have had experience of a few members of a certain class, each of which members we shall call M; and let

us further suppose, that every observed M has possessed attribute A. Now the occurrence of only a few instances does not decide whether A be essential to M, or only accidental: that is, whether A be, or be not, so connected in causation with the other observed attributes of M, that those other attributes cannot jointly occur without being accompanied by A. Let us suppose A to be accidental: then there is a probability, proportional to our experience of M, that M without A has been observed. Conversely, if no M without A has been observed, then there is a probability proportional to our experience, that A is not accidental; in other words, a probability that the remaining attributes of M cannot come together without being accompanied by A. Which is equivalent to saying, that there is a probability proportional to our experience, that every M is A.

Let us apply this analysis to an example of moral certainty. The death of a human being observed for the first time, or the observation of only a few instances of human death, would still leave it doubtful, whether mortality be essential to man; that is, whether the attribute mortality be so connected in causation with the other attributes of human nature, that the existence of these involves the existence of that. But every increase in the experience of human death infers an increased probability that there is this connexion of causation between the other attributes of human nature and mortality. Let mankind be indefinitely numerous; and it becomes a moral certainty, that if the causes which produce the existence of any human being were compatible with his possessing natural immortality, some instances of men naturally immortal would be known. Conversely, if no instance of natural immortality be known, then it is morally certain that natural immortality is incompatible with human nature in other words, it is morally certain that all men are mortal.

We are not quite sure that we see clearly what Mr. Kidd has gained by thus importing the (to many) obscure idea of causation into the present question. What basis is there for the fundamental assumption itself that "If the connexion between M and A were accidental, M without A would have been observed," except the very instinctive anticipation of likeness, which Mr. Kidd rejects as an insufficient basis? The case, we take it, is this: If the connexion were essential, [causal, or invariable] M and A would be always combined:

and the phenomena of the case, so far as it is known, resemble the demonstrable phenomena of the hypothesis that the connexion is essential; and from this likeness we are, more or less firmly, persuaded that the hypothesis is correct. We do not see the advantage of substituting this for the common account, that from the likeness of some of the circumstances of the event B, to the circumstances of the previously observed event A, we, without framing any scientific hypothesis at all, conclude that B will probably resemble A in the remaining circumstances. If we must fall back, at any rate, upon mere likeness, it may be said, the less circuitous the path by which we get to it, the better.*

But to pursue this subject further would involve us in longer and more troublesome inquiries than we have space or time to prosecute. Let us add, however, that though thus, in some points, compelled to hesitate about some of Mr. Kidd's speculations, we must have conveyed a very inadequate idea of our estimate of his work, if we have not shewn that we regard it as a most valuable contribution to logical science. It is the work of an acute, a patient, candid, and very clear thinker; and the style of it, without any vain display of ornaments or parade of eloquence, is forcible and direct-perfectly free from that flabby leprosy of mysticism which is the contagious disease of modern metaphysical writers.

FAMAGOSTA is the chief sea-port of the north-eastern coasts of Cyprus. We travelled to it on horseback, across as bleak a succession of puny hills as could well be met with out of Africa. The road was not a bad one-resulting rather from the nature of the ground than any labor of man. A total want of any signs of such labor was apparent on all sides; nothing but a succession of bleak, burnt-up, hard-baked hills for many miles. These hills, which might perhaps be more accurately described as gentle undulations, form part of the plain of Messarea, and here and there, in their present bleak desolation, bear traces of ancient cultivation in ruined aqueducts and long dried-up watercourses, evidently conducted by the hands of man to the districts around.

The environs of Famagosta repaid us somewhat for the bleak monotony

of our long ride. Much silk is manufactured in the district, and there are therefore many mulberry trees scattered about; not any very large forest of them, but little groups here and there, sufficient to give picturesque variety to the scene. The carob-tree, (also called the locust tree, and St. John's bread), grows here too, bearing a long thin dark brown fruit in bunches, filled with a molasses-like gum, very palatable to the taste, with hard, oblong seeds imbedded in it. The foliage of the carob-tree at this period was of a delightful yellowish green tint, contrasting beautifully with the full bloom of the mulberry. The carob-tree is by no means uncommon in Syria and the Levant, as well as in Malta. Around Famagosta, however, it grows in great abundance.†

Another tree, almost peculiar to

the district, and not so well known in Western Europe, is the "Caicia," of which the fruit is much esteemed by the inhabitants as a luxury. I have been unable to discover its botanical name. Its fruit, of the size of a small orange, is red and white on the outside, and full of juice within. Nothing can be more agreeable than the beverage produced by this juice with a little water added to it; no wonder the Cypriots are so fond of it.

The mastich, which is used so much in the manufacture of raki, is also an object of cultivation in the neighbourhood of Famagosta. Although the name mastich is applied to the tree itself in Cyprus, it is used in Western Europe to designate only the gum or resin obtained from the tree-the pistachia lentiscus. An incision is made in the bark; a thick whitish juice exudes, which, on exposure to the air, becomes yellow and granulated. Its odor and taste are not unpleasant. It is sometimes used to burn as a species of incense. They were busy gathering the juice on our arrival in Famagosta. As we rode through the gardens in the suburbs, we watched the process of collection with considerable interest. The scene was new to us; and-for Cyprus-it was a busy one.

Famagosta presents to the traveller, whether approaching it from the land or sea, the aspect of a strong fortress, and such it was in the Venetian days. Its circumference is about two miles; the walls are thick and in repair; its twelve large towers were, doubtless, once formidable, and are still picturesque; whilst its two gates, one to the sea, and one to the land, are of great strength. A light-house, and a citadel with three lofty bastions within the walls, still further tend to give to the town the appearance of a fortress, for the light-house rather resembles a tower than a simple guide to mariners.

Famagosta was originally called Arsinoë, from the name of a sister of Ptolemy Philadelphus, who founded it. Its present name is a corruption of Amocusta, built on sand. It was

first fortified in 1193 by Guy de Lusignan, and two centuries after was taken by the Genoese, who suddenly surprised it. The Venetians took it from their rivals in 1490. The history of its fall into the hands of the Turks is one of the strangest chapters of the annals of Cyprus,

Mustapha, the Turkish general, having taken Nicosia, encamped against Famagosta in September, 1570, his head quarters resting upon a hill that overlooks the town, called Adam's Apple. The Turkish forces were one hundred thousand in number. Mark Anthony Bragadin, the heroic Venetian governor, had but four thousand soldiers to defend it. Summoned frequently to surrender, he refused, confident in his own resolution and fortitude, and relying upon aid from Venice which never came.

No

For eleven long months did the heroic defenders defeat every assault, and frustrate every effort of the Turkish host to take the town. The defence was of the noblest and of the most determined, but at length famine stalked amongst the garrison. Venetian succors came-a few Turkish ships cut off all supplies by sea. Bragadin would still have held out, but his followers declared they could do so no longer. The noble old man was forced to capitulate.

The terms granted to the garrison were favorable enough. Bragadin was himself to deliver the keys of the city to the conqueror, and then he and his followers were to have a safe conduct to Venice. In compliance with the terms of the treaty, the old man, bare-headed, unarmed, carrying the keys, and attended by twenty or thirty officers, walked from the Land Gateto Mustapha's quarters on Adam's Apple. It was the fourth of August, 1571.

Mustapha received his fallen opponent with the haughty insolence of a savage. When the keys had been deposited, and the gate was in the hands of his troops, he turned fiercely upon the white-headed soldier, and upbraided him with putting to death some Turks during the truce-a false accu

sation. Bragadin folded his arms, and stood prepared for the worst. Mustapha's eye quailed before the earnest gaze of the indignant old man. But Mustapha could see nothing but his enemy in the spectacle before him -his enemy in his power-and, tigerlike, he fed fat his hatred and revenge.

The old man was thrown down; and then and there horribly, barbarously, cruelly mutilated. He was stripped of his own raiment, and the scanty rags of the lowest of the laborers were put upon him. In this condition he was ordered to join a gang of convicts who were working upon the fortifications. His followers were more mercifully treated, for they were beheaded on the spot. The remnant of the four thousand brave defenders was slaughtered, whilst their families were reserved for a worse lot-slavery in a Turkish camp.

Bragadin's cup of bitterness, however, was not yet full. Mustapha was indignant that he bore his punishment so well. He watched him once working with his gang, and his savage hate burned furiously in him. The poor old hero was seized again, tied to some trees in the neighborhood, and, in Mustapha's presence, flayed alive.

Human nature could not stand this refinement of torture, this most exquisite of sufferings. Bragadin happily died whilst his skin was being cut and torn from him. This, however, did not satisfy Turkish barbarity. The spirit had fled; they could inflict nothing more upon the man, but the carcass remained. The skin was stuffed, and, with the head, was sent to Constantinople, an acceptable present to the Sultan. The limbs of the bravest of the Venetians were exposed upon the gates of Famagosta. Such was the fate of Mark Anthony Bragadin ! For such heroism as his, one man obtains honors, wealth, an old age of respect and fame, together with the grateful reverence of a nation- whilst another is mutilated, condemned to work as a felon, flayed alive! Truly the enigmas of this life are great and manifold, and, to us, inexplicable.

Walking through the streets of Famagosta is like journeying through a city of the dead. Ruins are on all sides, broken aqueducts, dismantled churches, desecrated monuments, overthrown statues, dilapidated houses. In the Venetian time, Famagosta con

tained between twenty and thirty thousand inhabitants. At the pre

sent day it may possibly number four or five thousand. It is still the second sea-port in Cyprus.

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The Cathedral of St. Nicholas, the finest building in the town, is now a Turkish mosque. It is a large and shapely pile of white marble, but wantingin height. The minarets which have been added to it are incongruous with the rest of the building. The citadel is the great state-prison of Turkey, and may not be entered by the " believers"-a sort of Moslem bastille. The inhabitants are profoundly ignorant, as well of the rank as of the names of the prisoners contained within its walls; and as indifferent as ignorant. Members of the family of the Sultan have, at various times, it is whispered, been incarcerated here for life.

The Pedicus, which formerly emptied itself into the sea in the neighbourhood of Famagosta, now forms a lake in winter and spring, called the Lake of Constance-a marsh in summer and autumn. Miasma is rife in the district, in consequence of this. The only illness which any of our little band endured in Cyprus resulted from our inspection of the lake. It was an intermittent fever and ague, which was not thoroughly shaken off until the voyage to England on our return was half acomplished.

It is worthy of note that the body of Saint Epiphanius, once Bishop of Salamis, was removed to Famagosta on the destruction of Salamis. People in those days had faith in bones. It is probably buried beneath the Church of Saint Nicholas, although its exact position has been long forgotten. The Turks doubtless paid little respect to the worthy bishop's ashes.

Six miles from Famagosta are the ruins of Salamis. It was founded by Teucer, when driven from the Isle of Salamis in Greece by his father Tela

mon.

Nil desperandum Teucro duce, et auspice
Teucro ;

Certus enim promisit Apollo
Ambiguam tellure nova Salamina futuram,

sings Horace in the seventh ode of his first book, with reference to this expulsion and the foundation of the Cyprian Salamis.

The historian Aristo was born in Salamis; and for its king-called Philocyprus (the friend of Cyprus) by the poets-Solon, the law-giver of Athens, compiled a code of laws. Cleobulus the philosopher, and Neocrion the admiral of the fleet of Alexander of Macedon, were both of Salamis-the philosopher indeed was son of the king Evagoras II. From all which it is apparent that Salamis was once a place of distinction in Greek history and annals. Its bishops were by no means undistinguished in the early history of the Church, and the fact that St. Catherine was born therethe daughter of King Costa—is sufficient in itself to invest its ruins with a certain sacredness in the eyes of the saint-loving communities of the present day, whether Greek, Latin, or Protestant.

When the town was destroyed by the Saracens in the reign of Heraclius, its bishop was transferred to Famagosta, where his successors have ever since resided. Of the existing representative of this venerable line we were permitted a closer inspection than we found pleasant. He was smoking in a dignified, episcopal sort of way, when we were introduced; but before our departure he contrived to hint, through our interpreter, that he would be glad of so many little European articles with which he was sure we could supply him, that we had no wish to prolong the interview. He was a grand, solemn, dignified looking old man-with a long white beard after the manner of the Greek clergy. He seemed more hopelessly ignorant of the world than the uncouthest village schoolmaster in the United Kingdom would be-and he was a bishop!

To return however to the ruins of Salamis. Like almost all the others in Cyprus, they are partially buried beneath the accumulated soil of centuries. Enough remains, however, to prove the importance of the town in earlier times. Many of the columns, portions of which are still left standing, are finely proportioned, the cutting on them still fresh and clear. They all belong to recognized types of Grecian architecture. The most interesting remains we discovered were the ruins of a temple of sufficient magnitude and importance to form, even still, a very conspicuous and

prominent object in the surrounding landscape. The temple was probably dedicated to Apollo, for we saw several sculptures in the vicinity, all of which were more or less remotely connected with the legends of the SunGod's life, as handed down by the early poets.

The aqueducts which formerly conveyed the waters of Cerinnes to Salamis are still in a wonderful state of preservation, considering how many ages have rolled away since they were constructed. Even the reservoirs are still plainly distinguishable, overgrown though they be with brushwood and creepers. I doubt if the Turkish government in the island would be able, without foreign assistance, to restore these works, were there any necessity for so doing, so vast and magnificent were they.

The plain of the Messarea, on which Nicosia is built, may be said to commence at Salamis, or a few miles from it, stretching away to the west farther than the eye can reach; whilst to the east, the long narrow neck of land called the Carpasse looks eagerly off towards Syria, eagerly and vainly. The Carpasse was once fertile in cotton and mulberry trees. It is now an uninhabited wilderness.

Four miles from Salamis, on the borders of the great plain, stand the ruins of the church of St. Barnabas, once connected with a large monastery dedicated to the same saint. It is said that the body of St. Barnabas was, in the first instance, buried in that church, but was subsequently removed to another smaller building in the immediate neighbourhood-for what reason we are left in ignorance. Possibly the bones themselves might be ultimately discovered by a diligent search.

The connexion of Salamis and Paphos with sacred history renders these places more than ordinarily interesting to the Christian tourist. There

can be little doubt that in the very earliest age the gospel had been successfully preached in Cyprus-even antecedent to the arrival of "Barnabas and Saul." "Now they which were scattered abroad upon the persecution that arose about Stephen, travelled as far as Phenice, and Cyprus, and Antioch, preaching the word to none but the Jews only. And some of them were men of Cyprus and Cyrene, which,