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plants have descended from one common prototype," he continues, But analogy may be a deceitful guide. Nevertheless all living things have much in common in their chemical composition, their germinal vesicles, their cellular structure, and their laws of growth and reproduction. Therefore I should infer, from analogy, that probably all the organic beings which have ever lived on this earth, have deseended from some one primordial form into which life was first breathed by the Creator." Further on, he remarks, "In the distant future, Psychology will be based on a new foundation, that of the necessary acquirement of each mental power and capacity by gradation. Light will be thrown on the origin of man and his history." Elsewhere he had already said, "I can, indeed, hardly doubt that all vertebrate animals having true lungs have descended, by ordinary generation, from an ancient prototype, of which we know nothing, furnished with a floating apparatus or swim-bladder. We can thus under stand the strange fact, that every particle of food and drink which we swallow has to pass over the orifice of the trachea, with some risk of falling into the lungs." Although, therefore, Mr. Darwin nowhere expressly states it, we are left to infer that he includes man,-considered in his corporeal capacity, of course, amongst the earthly products of "descent with modification."

The last remaining point to which we would, in justice to Mr. Darwin and his great subject, wish to draw attention, is this, that in his own opinion, and that of some others, his theory of the origin of species by secondary causes, in operation from the beginning and now also at work, and not by independent acts of creation, as commonly believed, is by no means derogatory to the Almighty power of the Creator, and need not alarm devout minds." "I see no reason," he says, "why the views given in this volume should shock the religious feelings of any one. A celebrated author and divine has written to me, that he has gradually learnt to see that it is just as noble a conception of the Deity to believe that He created a few original forms capable of self-development into other and needful forms, as to believe that He required a fresh act of creation to supply the void caused by the action of His laws."" And in the final sentence of his book, Mr. Darwin observes, "There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed by the Creator into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed laws of gravity, from so simple a beginning, endless forms, most beautiful and most wonderful, have been, and are being,

evolved."

On a future occasion we propose to put on record the published opinions and criticisms of Mr. Darwin's scientific opponents and supporters.

In due time, his business became so extensive that he found it advisable to admit a Mr. Price into partnership with him, and to leave this Mr. Price at Philadelphia in charge of the business, while he himself came to London to attend exclusively to the purchase of the requisite clocks and watches. He came in 1793, bringing with him his wife and children, the latter being then three in number, and all girls. His son, the future academician, was born in the year following, on the 19th of October.

Five years later, the death of Mr. Price obliged Robert Leslie to return to America. He sailed, with his family, in an English-built East Indiaman, at that time in the American service, and armed, in consequence of the war between the United States and France. She had a complement of sixty-two men and boys, and was commanded by Captain James Williamson, a Scotchman, and a thorough seaman of the old school. Twice attacked by a privateer mounting thirty guns, and manned by 240 men, he succeeded in beating them off with a severe loss in killed and wounded; but his own rigging was so disabled in the contests that he was compelled to run for Lisbon to refit, the refitting being only accomplished at an expense of £10,000 to the owners, and a detention of over five months. The experiences of the Leslies during these five months in Lisbon constitute the staple of the well-known Recollections of Spain, written by Miss Leslie, the painter's sister.

On arriving in Philadelphia, Leslie's father was harassed by a law-suit, arising from his partner's mismanagement of the business, and being at the same time in a declining state of health, he did not long survive to provide for his family. Mrs. Leslie then opened a boarding-house, and young Leslie would have been compelled to discontinue his attendance at the University of Pennsylvania, which he had commenced immediately on the arrival of the family in America, but for the kindness of the professors, one of whom abated considerably his charge for Leslie's tuition, while another refused to make any charge whatever. His intellectual culture, at the most critical period of his youth, was thus,amply provided for, and his love of nature was developed at the same time by summer and autumn visits to his uncles, Philip Ward and George Hall, who were farmers in Chester county. The influence of those visits upon the after career of the artist can hardly be over-rated. He himself speaks of them as among his most treasured recollections.

From his earliest years Leslie was fond of drawing, and his mother at one time thought of apprenticing him to an engraver; but this design was eventually abandoned, and in 1808 he was apprenticed to Messrs. Bradford and Inskeep, then the most enterprising publishers in Philadelphia. Shortly afterwards, the celebrated actor, George Frederick Cooke, arrived in America, and created a sensation, which was the means of fixing Leslie's destiny. The following illustrates the excitement which prevailed amongst the playgoers of that city on Cooke's first appearance in Philadelphia:

It remains for us most strongly to recommend to such of our readers as are interested in the study of great biological truths to peruse Mr. Darwin's book. It is so enriched with facts,-almost every position taken up by the author being directly supported by them in numbers, and is so full of argument, that the lengthened abstract we have made barely does justice to his views. For candour, no controversial writer was ever more distinguished. The interest excited by his work "He was to play Richard on a Monday night, and on the Sunday amongst naturalists has been, is, and is likely to continue to evening the steps of the theatre were covered with groups of porbe, very great. At the recent meeting of the British Associaters, and other men of the lower orders, prepared to spend the tion at Oxford, a very spirited debate arose out of this vast night there, that they might have the first chance of taking places question. in the boxes. I saw some of them take their hats off and put on to them, and at that time the street in front of the theatre was imnightcaps. At ten o'clock the next morning the door was opened passable. When the rush took place, I saw a man spring up and catch hold of the iron which supported a lamp on one side of the door, by which he raised himself so as to run over the heads of the crowd into the theatre. Some of these fellows were hired by gentlemen to secure places, and others took boxes on speculation, sure of selling them at double or treble the regular prices. When the time came for opening the doors in the evening, the crowd was so tumultuous that it was evident there was little certainty that the holders of box-tickets would obtain their places, and for ladies the attempt would be dangerous. A placard was therefore displayed, stating, that all persons who had tickets would be admitted at the stage door before the front doors were opened. This notice soon drew such a crowd to the back of the theatre, that when Cooke arrived he could not get in. He was on foot, with Dunlap, one of the New York managers, and he was obliged to make himself known before he could be got through the press. I am like the man going to be hanged,' he said, 'who told the crowd they would have no fun unless they made way for him.'"

LESLIE'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.*

THE finely-executed engravings from some of his pictures, and the originals, accessible to the public in the Vernon Gallery and the collection of Mr. Sheepshanks, have made Leslie widely known to a much larger class than are usually acquainted with works of art; while to connoisseurs we need not say his works have always been recommended by a refinement of taste, and an originality of treatment, which place him in a very high rank amongst English artists. His autobiography, therefore, must be no less interesting to the general public than to the lovers of art literature.

Like his friend West, Leslie has been claimed by the Americans; but he was born in London. His father and mother, however, were Americans, natives of Cecil county, in the State of Maryland. Their forefathers had settled in that neighbourhood early in the eighteenth century, as farmers; his father's ancestors being from Scotland, and his mother's from England. The father, Robert Leslie, a man of extraordinary ingenuity in mechanics, followed the calling of a watchmaker, first in Elktown, and afterwards in Philadelphia.

Autobiographical Recollections. By the late CHARLES ROBERT LESLIE, R.A. Edited, with a Prefatory Address on Leslie as an Artist, and Selections from his Correspondence, by Tox TAYLOR, Esq., Editor of the Autobiography of Haydon, 2 vols. Post ovo.

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Young Leslie went to see Cooke a time or two, and one day sketched a likeness of him, from memory. Of this likeness he says:

"There was nothing very wonderful in it. I had studied over and over again the pictures in Peale's Museum, having had access to it at all times, in consequence of the intimacy between my father and the very ingenious proprietor. I was not acquainted with Mr. Sully, the best painter in Philadelphia, but I never passed his door without running up into his show-room (which was at all times accessible), and spending as much time there as I had to spare. The windows of the print-shops were also so many academies to me, and often detained me so long when I was sent on errands, that I was obliged, on leaving them, to run as fast as possible to

make up for lost time. When all this is considered, and also that I took an uncommon interest (even for a boy) in everything relating to the stage, and that I shared fully in the excitement produced by the arrival of such an actor as Cooke in America, it would, I think, have been more surprising had I failed in the attempt to make a likeness of him from recollection, than that I should, to a certain degree, have succeeded."

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The sketch fell into the hands of Leslie's master, Mr. Bradford, who showed it to many friends. They all thought it wonderful, and one of them carried it to the Exchange Coffeehouse, at the hour when it was most frequented by the merchants. "The attempt," says the autobiography, " thought surprising for a boy, and in a few hours my fame was spread amongst the wealthiest men in the city.' The result was that Mr. Bradford resolved to raise a subscription (to which he himself contributed very liberally) to enable Leslie to spend two years in studying painting in Europe, and found no difficulty in carrying this idea into effect. Thus launched on the career of an artist, Leslie re-entered London in 1811. Mr. Sully, the painter spoken of above, had given him some lessons in oils during his last few weeks in Philadelphia, and had also given him letters to Mr. West, Sir William Beechey, Mr. Charles King, and other artists. Says Leslie:

"I entered London with such feelings as we can experience, perhaps, but once in our lives. It was my birthplace, and my earliest recollections belonged to it. I had a kind of dreamy remembrance of the magnificence of St. Paul's, and the splendour of the Lord Mayor's show. The novels of Miss Burney, and the Picture of London,' had made me acquainted with its chief objects of interest, and I had often amused myself with tracing its localities on the maps. Familiar with the engraved works of Hogarth, the very purlieus of St. Giles's, from whence his backgrounds are so frequently taken, possessed to my imagination the charm of classic ground.

I

"For the last three years I had enjoyed opportunities of seeing all the most interesting books as they arrived from England in the bloom of novelty. The talk of the literary men who frequented Mr. Bradford's shop was often of London and its wonders. knew the names and styles of the principal English artists from the many engravings I had opportunities of seeing. Passionately fond of the theatre, I knew that Kemble, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Jordan, Bannister, Dowton, and Munden were still on the stage; and I had heard of Liston, Matthews, and Emery, who were then in the meridian of their glory. I had seen one of the finest of West's pictures (his Lear in the Storm), and I was to see and know the great artist himself. All this to a boy of sixteen, and of such tastes as I have described, could not but afford anticipations of the most intoxicating delight. Nor did the reality fall short of the anticipation."

The whirl of excitement in which his love of art, of books, and of the stage now involved him ended in a severe illness, and made him understand how it was possible to feel even London a solitude. "I thought of the happy circle round my mother's fireside, and there were moments in which, but for my obligation to Mr. Bradford and my other kind patrons, I could have been content to forfeit all the advantages I expected from my visit to England, and return immediately to America. The two years I was to remain in London seemed, in prospect, an age."

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Diligent study and honest work at his art triumphed over home sickness, and Leslie found in West, the venerable academician, and in Washington Allston, a painter of the purest taste, willing instructors; while King, warm-hearted, sincere, sensible, and prudent, did him good service by example as the strictest of economists. These gentlemen were his seniors. His most intimate associates of his own age were a number of young Bostonians, students of medicine, who were walking the hospitals, and attending the lectures of Cline, Cooper, and Abernethy, and with whom he often mingled in the crowds that besieged the doors of Covent Garden to witness the performances of Mrs. Siddons and Mr. John Kemble. Through West, he made the acquaintance of Fuseli, by whom he was admitted to the academy as a probationer. Through Allston, he first made the acquaintance of Coleridge; and here we may cite a passage in illustration of the charming details concerning the great men of the past generation, of which the autobiography mainly consists. Allston had been taken seriously ill, and had gone to Salt Hill, accompanied by his wife and by Leslie. Coleridge, anxious for his friend, came there also:

"I had seen Coleridge before, but it was on this occasion that my acquaintance commenced with this most extraordinary man, of whom it might be said as truly as of Burke, that his stream of mind was perpetual.' His eloquence threw a new and beautiful light on most subjects, and when he was beyond my comprehension, the melody of his voice and the impressiveness of his manner held me a willing listener, and I was flattered at being supposed capable of understanding him. Indeed, men far advanced beyond myself in education might have felt as children in his presence.

"Luckily for me he could not help talking, be he where or with whom he might, and I shall ever regret that I did not take notes, imperfect as they must have been, of what he said. I can only

now remember, that besides speaking much of Allston, whom he loved dearly, he gave an admirable analysis of the character of Don Quixote. He said, 'there are two kinds of madness; in the one, the object pursued is a sane one, the madness discovering itself only in the means by which it is to be gained. In the other, an insane intention is aimed at or compassed by means that the soundest mind would employ, as in cases of murder, suicide, etc. always to do good, and his delusion only as to the mode of accomThe madness of Don Quixote is of the first class, his intention being plishing his object."

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We cannot follow closely the whole career of Mr. Leslie. We have indicated his early history, the steps by which he was enabled to adopt the career of an artist, and the openings so happily made for him to friendships with the most celebrated men of the time in England. His "Recollections" of these celebrities form the staple of the first volume of the dence," which fills the second volume. A few extracts will "Autobiography," and enter largely into the "Corresponshow the freshness and point of these reminiscences. Apropos of Rogers:

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"Those who know Rogers only from his writings can have no conception of his humour. I have seen him, in his old age, imitate the style of dancing of a very great lady with an exactness that made it much more ludicrous than any caricature; and I remember, when I met him at Cassiobury, that he made some droll attack, I quite forget what it was about, on one of the company, and went on heightening the ridicule at every sentence, till his face 'was like a wet cloak ill laid up,' as were the faces of all present, and especially the face of the gentleman he was attacking.

"

At an evening party, at which I met him, the oddest looking little old lady, for she was as broad as she was long, and most absurdly dressed, as she was leaving the room saw him near the door, and accosted him:

"How do you do, Mr. Rogers? It is very long since I have seen you, and I don't think, now, you know who I am.' "Could I ever forget you!' He said it with such an emphasis that she squeezed his hand with delight.”

Here are some extracts about Turner :

"Parsimonious as were Turner's habits, he was not a miser. It was often remarked, that he had never been known to give a dinner. But when dining with a large party at Blackwall, the bill, a heavy one, being handed to Chantrey (who headed the table), he threw it to Turner by way of joke, and Turner paid it, and would not allow the company to pay their share. I know, also, that he refused large offers for his Téméraire, because he intended to leave it to the nation."

"Mr. Ruskin, in a lecture he delivered at Edinburgh, draws a touching picture of the neglect and loneliness in which Turner died. This picture, however, must lose much of its intended effect when it is known that such seclusion was Turner's own fault. No death-bed could be more surrounded by attentive friends than his might have been, had he chosen to let his friends know where he lived. He had constantly dinner invitations, which he seldom it suited him. His letters were addressed to him at his house in even answered, but appeared at the table of the inviter or not as Queen Anne Street; but the writers never knew where he really resided. It may well be supposed that a man so rich, advanced in life, and, as was thought, without near relations, should be much courted. He had for many years quoted in the Academy catalogues a MS. poem, the Fallacies of Hope;' and I believe that among his papers such a MS., though not in poetic form, was found by some of his friends to be his will."

"It is greatly to be regretted that Turner never would sit for a portrait, excepting when he was a young man, and then only for a profile drawing by Dance. This is, therefore, the only satisfactory likeness of him extant.

It happened, of course, as with every eminent man, that as soon as he was dead the shop-windows exhibited wretched libels on his face and figure, the most execrable of which was from a sketch by Count D'Orsay."

"Turner was short and stout, and he had a sturdy sailor-like walk. There was, in fact, nothing elegant in his appearance, full of elegance as he was in art; he might be taken for the captain of more in his face than belongs to any ordinary mind. There was a river steamboat at a first glance; but a second would find far that peculiar keenness of expression in his eye that is only seen in men of constant habits of observation. His voice was deep and musical, but he was the most confused and tedious speaker I ever heard. In careless conversation he often expressed himself joyous. He was, as I have said, a social man in his nature; and happily, and he was very playful: at a dinner table nobody more it is probable that his recluse manner of living arose very much from the strong wish which every artist must feel, to have his time entirely at his own command."

These quotations will show the sort of interest which the autobiography possesses for the general reader,—who will be apt, after coming to the last of the autobiographical pages, to turn back with fresher zest, owing to the well of sympathy opened by the Recollections, to the estimate of Leslie's profes sional career, which the editor has prefixed as an introduction. It will be remembered that the editor, Mr. Tom Taylor, is also the biographer of Haydon, and he truly observes that it is diffi

"Cut off, in great part," says Mr. Ruskin, "from all society, first by labour, and last by sickness, hunted to his grave by the malignity small critics and the jealousies of hopeless rivalry, he died in the house of a stranger."

AUG. 1860.

REGISTER.

cult to imagine a completer contrast than is formed by the cha-
racters, lives, and works of these two painters. Haydon presents
to us a nature all self-confidence, passion, and combativeness.
He was exclusive in his theories, reckless in his defiance of
difficulties, unscrupulous in the means he took to relieve them,
and untiring in his appeals to patrons, and public men, and the
public. Regarding himself as a martyr to high art, he claimed
to the full all the immunities and indulgences that the most
lenient and sympathetic judgment could attach to that posi-
tion. Alternately elated with the most buoyant hope and
depressed by the deepest despair; fighting, struggling, ap-
pealing, asserting himself his whole life through, he closed a
stormy and sorrowful career by suicide. But through all his
tempestuous life he loved his art passionately, and was truly
and deeply attached to his wife and his children. His pictures
reflect at once his lofty aims and his practical shortcomings.
Their unquestionable power and vigour are marred by ever-
recurring evidence of haste, slovenliness, coarseness, and
lack of taste. In Leslie, on the other hand, we see the man
of cautious, trustful, respectful nature from the first. Slow
in the formation of his judgment, disposed to defer to others
in his art and out of it, but strong in principle, and apt to
hold stubbornly to convictions once grasped; not given to
court notoriety or publicity, and rather shrinking from than
provoking conflict; asking only leave to pursue the even tenor
of his way in the practice of the art he loved, among the quiet
friends he valued; equable, affectionate, self-respecting to the
point of reserve and reticence; valuing good taste and mode-
ration as much in art as in manners; averse to exclusive
theories and loud-sounding self-assertion in all forms; closing
a happy, peaceful, successful, and honoured life, by the calm
and courageous death of a Christian, and leaving behind him
pictures stamped in every line with good taste, chastened
humour, and graceful sentiment,-pictures which it makes us
happier, gentler, and better to look upon; pictures, which
help us to love good books more, and to regard our fellow-
These pictures Mr. Taylor
creatures with kindlier eyes.
criticizes in detail. We could wish to follow his observations,
but space forbids.

We have said that the second volume is filled with Leslie's correspondence. The concluding letter gives a last sunny glimpse of the painter:-"Such an image of the man as best fits his life and tastes; surrounded by his family, rambling in the chestnut shades of Bushy Park, feeding the deer that came fearlessly to his kindly hand, pacing the background of his Jeanie Deans in the green avenues of Hampton Court garden, and He died on the 5th of copying from his beloved cartoons." May, 1859, the day after the opening of the Academy Exhibition, in which was the last-named picture, together with his Hotspur and Lady Percy. "While the public were still crowding round these two pictures," says Mr. Tom Taylor, one remarking, perhaps, Leslie is falling off,' to which a more thoughtful spectator might have responded, by pointing out the good taste, beauty, and sentiment which still reigned through even these less vigorous works,-the painter lay dead and cold, amid the unutterable grief of the wife who had lived a life of unclouded happiness with him for three-andthirty years, and the children who had been so near his heart, and who had loved in him the most thoughtful, self-sacrificing, and tenderest of fathers." Attached to his will was found a slip of paper, on which was written :-"I trust I may die as I now am, in the entire belief of the Christian religion, as I understand it from the books of the New Testament, that is, as a direct revelation of the will and goodness of God towards this world, by Jesus Christ, the Saviour and Judge of the world. In full reliance on the special providence of God, I feel sure that whenever, and by whatever means, I die, will be the best for me; and I trust this belief will always make me patient and submissive to the will of God, feeling sure that there is no real evil but sin, from which I pray God to deliver all of us now and hereafter." To which prayer every reader will respond,-Amen.

It is no exaggeration, then, to affirm distinctly that the record before us is hardly second in importance to Dr. Livingstone's narrative, though less remarkable as a literary effort. With the deepest interest we follow the author through a series of adventurous journeys extending over 3,000 leagues of territory, and ranging along a coast line measuring some 1,500 miles, embracing mountains, rivers, and forests almost untrodden hitherto by an European foot, and tribes almost Like Dr. Livingstone, Dr. Krapf commences with some unheard of since the age of the Ptolemies. account of his own early life, which he regards as chiefly remarkable for a providential leading up to the achievements of his riper years. He was born in 1810, at a village near Tübingen, and received his first bent towards the religious profession during a serious illness of six months' duration when about eleven years of age. Afterwards, being left much to himself, he delighted in reading the Bible, and became so In 1823 he attracted the well acquainted with its contents that he excited the wonder of the reapers in his father's fields by relating to them the stories of the Mosaic history. notice of a neighbouring clergyman's widow, who persuaded his parents to send him to school at Tübingen. Here he made rapid progress, and when in his fifteenth year was inspired with an earnest wish to become a teacher of the The desire never left him. gospel among the heathen, this being the immediate result of a lecture on missionary enterprise given by the rector in the hearing of the school. He devoted himself to the studies necessary for the church, and in 1827 entered the Missionary College at Basel. About 1835, he was put in communication with the English Church Missionary Society, and when a vacancy occurred in the mission about to be despatched to Abyssinia, by the sudden death of the missionary Knoth, at Cairo, he was appointed to that post, and in 1837 set out on his long and difficult journey to the land of his youthful dreams and aspirations. For we may here observe, that while the future missionary was still on the lower form of the grammar school at Tübingen, he had the districts of Adal and Somali in the map of Eastern Africa, observed with surprise how few places were marked down in and these lacunae he was now destined to supply by his own Dr. Krapf went first to Adowa, the capital of Tigre, and self-denying and heroic exertions in the cause of the gospel. the seat of the Abyssinian mission, at that time conducted by Isenberg and Blumhardt. But the Roman Catholics were in possession of the field, and the Abyssinian priests, at their instigation, destroyed as many of the Bibles brought by the Protestant missionary as they could lay hands on. Dr. Krapf, plainly destined by Providence for the interior of the continent, then determined to penetrate to the Christian kingdom of Shoa, whose friendly ruler, Sahela Selassie, had formerly sent a messenger to Isenberg, inviting him to visit his dominions. But further disappointments awaited him, and it was not till June, in 1839, that he reached Aukober, the mountain capital of Shoa. Here he was well received by the king, whom he accompanied on several military expeditions against the tribes in the south. These are intensely interesting chapters. After a general description of the better known portion of the Abyssinian kingdom, we find singular revelations of the existence of scattered remnants of Christian tribes, severed from Abyssinia by the country of the Gallas. Besides observing minutely the places and tribes he actually visited, Dr. Krapf collected from well-informed natives the most curious details concerning other tribes which he did not reach. It is a question whether he has not discovered the very pigmies described by Herodotus. To the south of Kaffa and Susa, according to his informants, there is a country, very sultry and humid, covered with bamboo woods, inhabited by the race of Dokos,-a people no more than four feet in height, of a dark olive complexion, who live in a completely savage state, like the beasts. They feed on serpents, ants, and mice, climb trees like monkeys, and go completely naked. Having neither houses, temples, nor holy trees like the Gallas, they engage in devotion by standing erect on their heads, with their feet supported against a tree or a stone! The author heard of these little people not only in Shoa, KRAPF'S TRAVELS IN EASTERN AFRICA.* DR. KRAPF's travels in Africa were published in the original but also in Ukambani, two degrees to the south, and in German about a year and a half ago, soon after the appear- Banana, a degree and a half to the north of the equator. ance of the celebrated work by Dr. Livingstone, to which the Nay, a slave was shown to him exactly answering to the depresent translation forms a companion volume of great in- scription of the pigmies. It is barely possible, not very terest. The connexion between the labours of the two travel- probable,-that Herodotus and Dr. Krapf, separated by the lers is indeed very close. At the very time that Dr. Living- vast abyss of 2,000 years, should be imposed upon by the stone was proceeding from the south towards the coast of same fables. Nor are collateral circumstances wanting in Mozambique, Dr. Krapf, with Mr. Rebmann, his fellow-support of the native statements. For example, in the Subali missionary and the companion of many of his journeys, were advancing from the north to the same point, and near the latitude of Cape del Gado they almost approached each other.

• Travels, Researches, and Missionary Labours, during an Eighteen Years' Residence in Eastern Africa. By the Rev Dr. J. LEWIS KRAPF. 8vo.

dialect "dogo" means small, and in the language of Enarea "doko" is indicative of an ignorant and stupid person.

Equally curious relations make us acquainted with a country named Kaffa, north of the land of the Dokos; and with Enarea, a fine mountain country, where more than half

How was I, without a guide, without food, to make a return journey of thirty-five or thirty-six leagues to Kivoi's village? In this difficulty I remembered that heaven had yesterday for whom he could and would provide'; Man's extremity is God's caused a lion to furnish me with food; I was one of God's poor, opportunity!' Most of all was I strengthened and comforted by the previous day's experience of the lion sent to provide us with food in the wilderness. My most pressing and immediate want was water; for I was extremely thirsty, and had not had anything to drink all day. I knew that the Dana was near at hand, and bed of the river was there. I saw, too, the mountain past the seeing at some distance very lofty trees, I conjectured that the foot of which, as Kivoi told me yesterday, the river flows, and so I determined to press forward to the river, towards which I was not now impelled by geographical curiosity, but by extreme thirst. robbers; yet the river had to be reached at any cost. After a out either trees or brushwood, I was afraid of being seen by the short march I came to a trodden pathway which I followed, and soon saw the surface of the river gleaming through the trees and bushes on its banks with a pleasure which no pen can describe, and which none but those who have been similarly placed can realize. The path led me over the high bank down to the water's slake my thirst and have water in plenty for the return-journey! edge; Praise and thanks be to God,' I exclaimed, 'now I can The water was cool and pleasant; for the banks were steep and lofty; and when I reached the river there was a pool, which led me to think that the river had an ebb and flow. After my thirst. was satisfied, for want of water-bottles I filled the leather case of my telescope as well as the barrels of my gun, which was now with grass, and with bits of cloth cut off my trousers.' useless to me; and I stopped up the mouths of the gun-barrels

a cwt. of coffee berries may be purchased for about a groat, or, if the traveller should prefer it, three great pitchers of honey, or an indefinite number of sacks of wheat, for the same price. In this country the white elephant roams the forest, and is the subject of religious honours. White buffaloes are also held sacred. Tradition records that the original founder of the race which inhabits Enarea, like the founder of Kaffa, was a Troglodyte, whose dwelling was in the caves of the earth. To the south-east of Enarea lies the powerful but tributary kingdom of Senjero, forming a state militant, whose people combat on every side with Wolamo, Enarea, Goma, and the terrible Gallas. The population is said to have been Christian, but to have relapsed into heathenism. Human sacri-As the country through which I was wending my way was with fices are offered, by the slave-dealers in particular, who always throw a beautiful female slave into the Lake Uno when they leave Senjero with their captives. Many families, too, offer up their first-born sons as sacrifices. Dr. Krapf himself was once in danger of being sacrificed in this country, because it had not rained for a long time, and the drought was ascribed to him. A sudden fall of rain saved him, and then he was all but deified. Notwithstanding their heathen condition, there are good smiths and other artizans in this country. A native tradition speaks of an iron pillar which stood at the entrance of the capital. There seems to be no reasonable doubt that a higher state of civilization once existed in all the countries watered by the Gojob. The author even heard of a city with walls of copper!

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With particulars of this interesting character the reader is Revived by the water of the Dana, the author began to enticed from chapter to chapter in the first portion of Dr. speculate on the source of the stream and its course to the Krapf's narrative. A particular description of the Gallas sea, and, casting his eye to the opposite bank, saw in the occupies the whole of Chapter VI. This people were the distance a lofty mountain which he named Mount Albert, in conquerors of Abyssinia, and had a genius for government as honour of the Prince Consort, and then thought it wise to well as conquest existed among them, such as distinguished conceal himself behind the bushes till nightfall. But it was the German tribes when they made their irruptions from the weary walking through the wilderness by night, and he was north, they might have been the conquerors of all Africa. almost ready to lay down and die, till he recalled to mind the Their personal appearance is savagely picturesque. Large example of Mungo Park, and reflected that a man should never and powerfully built, their long hair is worn like a mane despair, whatever his situation, but should always do his utmost their shoulders, and they all ride on horseback, armed for self-preservation, and trust the issue to God. He accordwith pear and shield. We are speaking of a people who ingly walked a little and rested a little by turns, till he was so inhabit one of the old Bible countries, and hardly need say reduced by hunger and thirst that he was fain to chew leaves, that their heathen practices are of high antiquity, though roots, and even elephants' excrement. "The roar of a lion," now mingled with Christian traditions. They pay great re- he says at this juncture, "would have been music in my ears, verence to the serpent, and the serpent was prominent in the trusting he would provide me with a meal. A little before dayold Ethiopian idolatry. Some of the tribes hold prayer-break I did hear a lion roar, and immediately afterwards the meetings, at which they receive spiritual revelations in refer- cry of an animal, which, however, soon ceased; for no doubt ence to their military expeditions and other matters. They the lion had seized his prey; but the direction from which the are acquainted with the Abyssinian names of saints, with the cry came was too distant for me to risk leaving my route, and name of Jesus Christ, and with that of the Virgin Mary. Their to descend into the plain.". Soon afterwards, the priests (Lubas) are distinguished from the Kalijas, who are chattering of monkeys served as his guide to a water-pit in their magicians, exorcists, and medicine men. Angony is prac- the sand; and mixing the precious beverage with a little tised by the Luba, with wildly flowing hair, and a copper gunpowder, he continued to still the pangs of hunger and circlet round his brow. The houses of the people are built proceed on his way. for the most part in mountain groves, and their land is rich in springs and brooks, which are swollen three months in the year by the tropical rains. Dr. Krapf is enraptured with the country and the climate, and laments that our emigration is not directed to the fair regions of Eastern Africa. These regions, he tells us, abound in natural resources infinitely beyond those of other countries into which European commerce and immigration have carried civilization and the arts of peace. It is true that the precious metals may be more abundant elsewhere; but what has the discovery of the gold fields of Australia and America produced to make us regret that, instead of these, East Africa produces iron and coal, the surest and most productive of mines in any country; is rich and fertile, overflowing with milk and honey; produces, with but little toil, rich cereal crops; has cattle, poultry, eggs, in abundance; and coffee, sugar, and tropical fruits-all almost for the gathering."

The second part of this volume consists of extracts from the travelling diary of Mr. Rebmann, and of the record of the author's two journeys to Usambara and Ukambani. The second Journey to Ukambani, for the purpose of founding a missionary station, is an ever-changing scene of dangerous enterprise. The caravan with which the author travelled at the outset was attacked by robbers, and poisoned arrows were used in the fray. Dr. Krapf, however, arrived in safety in the highlands of Yata, and the Wakamba not only made him welcome, but undertook to erect a dwelling for him. This promise was miserably performed, and the author determined to prosecute his journey further inland. He penetrated as far as the village of a chief named Kivoi, and unfortunately found him at war. In the expedition which followed, he endeavoured to save himself from a party of marauders by flight, and was thus separated from the party of natives who had hitherto accompanied him. In these critical circumstances, let the worthy doctor speak for himself:

After the graphic description of these dangers, the author gives some account of the inhabitants of Ukambani. The Wakamba, who dwell in the interior of Ukambani, are not of the Negro race, but have somewhat protruding lips and large eyes. They go nearly naked, and smear their bodies with a mixture of butter and ruddle, by which their natural colour is disguised; and to their hair, which they twist like small twine by the aid of wire, they often attach a quantity of white beads. In character they are described by Dr. Krapf as being treacherous and greedy, probably thieves, in any case great beggars and great liars. In hunting and travelling they display much courage and endure great hardship. In the presence of strangers they are lively and amusing, dancing about them like children; but they are easily excited to combat, and, with a consciousness of their independence, are proud and vehement in demeanour. Their form of government is patriarchal, and they are darkly superstitious, dealing in spells and offering sacrifice to evil spirits. They are sunk in materialism, but not degraded by fetichism. Slavery prevails amongst them, from the custom of taking prisoners of war. They live in huts, formed by driving short stakes into the ground, so as to form a circular wall, and use iron extensively for their weapons. Their chief employment, however, is in agriculture, and the rearing of cattle.

The Wakuapi and Masai are nomadic tribes, called by a name in the native tongue which signifies possessors of the land, or aborigines. These truculent savages are tall and slender of form, with handsome and rather light-complexioned features, and they believe themselves to be the direct descendants of heaven. Even the savage Gallas fly before them, or only dare to cope with them by stratagem and cunning. Their encampments are guarded by all the young men from twenty to twenty-five years of age, while the women and the older people attend to the cattle and the household work. Polygamy prevails in these tribes. In battle, death has no terror

for them, nor do they ever spare the lives of their enemies, men or women. Very young girls, however, they save alive. Dr. Krapf describes still another remnant of the aboriginal inhabitants of Eastern Africa, who are treated by the Wakuapi as their slaves. These are the Ala, dwelling in Masinde, and chiefly hunters of the elephant. They are said to speak a language which no other East Aricans understand. Similar notices of the scattered races of these benighted lands abound in the second part of Dr. Krapf's narrative, whose modest use of his extraordinary materials leaves some room for regret, much as it redounds to his honour as a truthful and unpretending teacher of the gospel to the outcast heathen.

The third part of the volume treats mainly of the geography, topography, and history of the countries embraced in the author's travels. Perhaps his most remarkable discovery is that of the existence in Eastern Africa, within two or three degrees of the equator, of mountains covered with perpetual snow,mountains amongst which, in all probability, lie the longsought sources of the Nile. When this discovery was first announced, the idea of there being snow-capped mountains so near to the equator was treated with ridicule; but no reader of Dr. Krapf's narrative can doubt that he and Mr. Rebmann really saw such mountains in Ukambani. From every elevation in that country, the silver-crowned summit of the lofty mountain Kilimanjaro was plainly visible; and when Dr. Krapf questioned the natives concerning the cause of the whiteness, they told him that the silver-like stuff, when brought down in bottles, proved to be nothing but water, and that many who ascended the mountain perished from extreme cold. Equally demonstrative is the evidence with respect to a second mountain, which the Wakamba people call the Kima ja Kegnia, or Mount of Whiteness. Thus Dr. Krapf, in addition to confirming Herodotus in the matter of the pigmies, also confirms Ptolemy, who attributes the source of the Nile to a mountain country, in which the mountains are constantly covered with snow.

The humble missionary has thus accomplished a great geographical feat,-in addition to which he has set forth in their true light the moral misery and degradation to which the heathen and once Christian nations of Eastern Africa have fallen, and has pointed out the various routes by which these benighted populations may now be approached.

MR. RUSKIN'S NEW VOLUME.*

IN 1843 appeared the first volume of " Modern Painters: their Superiority in the Art of Landscape Painting to all the Ancient Masters. By a Graduate of Oxford.' A further volume was issued three years afterwards, to accompany an extended and amended edition of the first. A ten years' pause, and third and fourth portions were given to the world. Then 1860, and the present final volume. Not, as the author avows, that his subject is concluded, for "he has been led by it into fields of infinite inquiry, where it is only possible to break off with such imperfect results as may at any given moment have been attained." He stops now because he must stop at some time or other. The future art-writings of Mr. Ruskin will no longer bear the collective title of Modern Painters. Perhaps that is all that the "finis" at the end of this fifth volume really amounts to.

at all." So writes the author in his last pages; and, returning to his first love, it is hard to say whether from fickleness or from constancy he adds, "So far as I am concerned, 1 regretted the change then, and regret it still."

To this book, then, commenced almost without a plan, time subsequently gave form and pattern. At a certain period of his labour Mr. Ruskin paused to map out the future of his work, to define the limits of his undertaking. But the waywardness of the beginning characterizes also the end. Time has taken away its gift; the scheme has fallen through; the book ends; but the design it had gathered to itself as it advanced, which had budded out from it unexpectedly as it were, remains in a large measure incompleted. Over the boundaries he had himself imposed, his eloquent diffuseness long since surged, the book doubled its promised length, and now the author stays his hand, turns from his toil, and leaves unfinished and shapeless the long-expected "section on the sea," holding out but vague promise of his ever being able to accomplish, even in a separate book, his intentions in respect to that portion of his project.

It is almost of necessity that there should be deviation from the original planned economy of a work occupying a score of years; but Mr. Ruskin is more than ordinarily susceptible to vicissitude. It is part of his idiosyncrasy to start impulsively with an ill-digested project, and to run off the lines of his argument upon the slighest provocation and at the earliest opportunity. So that in his case time and his own temper have combined to exaggerate the vibration of his book. His manner of progression is very much what Mr. Assheton Smith's huntsman used to denominate "zedding." He cannot march on straightforwardly. He must wander from the direct track; as a consequence, he is betrayed into all sorts of culs de sac, wrong turnings, and roundabout roads; and in the end, although much ground is gone over, very little advance is made. He is as the bee which does not make its final burglarious headlong plunge into the calyx until after a protracted course of circuitous buzzing and much prefatory waste of time, and this with all the insect's credit for industry. So over perverse a traveller, so ultradilatory a bee as the author of Modern Painters, must shorten his journey, must leave much honey unfilched. He is as the army which commences in orderly retreat and ends in rabblelike riot and demoralization, gaining a place of safety at last, with the sacrifice of much baggage and treasure. So, as has been said, Mr. Ruskin flings away altogether a large division of his idea: in one place he writes, "I find it convenient in this volume, and I wish I had thought of the expedient before, whenever I get into a difficulty to leave the reader to work it out;" and in another we are stopped by such a half-indolent half-arrogant, "No Thoroughfare" as this. He has been discoursing on the leaf, then follow an inquiry into the conditions of the stem. Then he tells us :

"I intended to have given a figure to show the results of the pressure of the weight of all the leafage on a great lateral bough in modifying its curves, the strength of timber being greatest where the leverage of the mass tells most. But I find nobody ever reads things which it takes any trouble to understand, so that it is no

use to write them."

In a higher tone he had once announced the aim and principle of his book, claiming for it a difference from most books, and a chance of being in some respects better for the difference, It is curious to go back to the beginning of this remarkable in that it had not been written either for fame or for money work, which would seem indeed to have been begotten by an or for conscience' sake, but of necessity." "I saw an injustice impulse, and born of an accident. Mr. Ruskin has ascribed to done and tried to remedy it. I heard a falsehood taught and himself from his earliest years, "the gift of taking pleasure was compelled to deny it. Nothing else was possible to me." in landscape." This, he says, "I assuredly possess in a In that good time there was no question as to whether people greater degree than most men, it having been the ruling would or would not take the trouble to understand. They were passion of my life, and the reason for the choice of its field of taught what the teacher deemed to be true, and the risk was labour." Certain articles in a review condemnatory of the on their own heads if they neglected the teaching. It was of pictures of Turner offended keenly so ardent an admirer of use to write then, intelligibly or unintelligibly, truly and the king of landscape painters. Mr. Ruskin addressed a letter wholly; but this was before Mr. Ruskin had strayed very much to the editor of the review, tr reprobating the matter and from his road, or broken off, breathless and worn out, from a style of those critiques, and pointing out their dangerous ten- journey, doubled by aberrations, rendered wearisome by the dency;" for "he knew it to be demonstrable that Turner was most wilful wandering, and stopped at last,-not perfected. right and true, and that his critics were wrong, false, and In extenuation of the delay in the production of the present base." The letter grew to be a book; the defence expanded volume, the author pleads his many employments during the into an attack; what began as a few comments upon past five years. His book on the " Elements of Drawing;' a particular branch of painting ended in being the most his addresses at Manchester, and his examination," with more elaborate English dissertation upon art, in its widest and attention than they deserved," of some of the theories of political Weightiest significance. The title originally selected for the economy referred to in those addresses; the Manchester Exhibook was Turner and the Ancients; and it was not then pro-bition, "chiefly in its magnificent Reynolds' constellation:" a posed to refer in it to any other modern painter than Turner. visit to Scotland, to look at Dumblane and Jedburgh, and But the design enlarged,-"The title was changed, and notes other favourite sites of Turner's; and the arrangement of the on other living painters inserted in the first volume, in defe-Turner drawings, the property of the nation, for the trustees rence to the advice of friends; probably wise, for unless the of the National Gallery. To this last task Mr. Ruskin set change had been made, the book might never have been read

• Modern Painters, Vol. V. By JOHN RUSKIN, M.A. London: Smith, Elder, and Co. 1860.

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himself with characteristic enthusiasm. In the lower room of the National Gallery, when he began his work, there were "upwards of nineteen thousand pieces of paper drawn

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