the Danish plenipotentiaries had not a right to feel that England stood in a special relation to them not held by the other neutral powers? England, in Lord Russell's person, had in fact agreed to press them no further without their own consent, had tacitly admitted, that is, that they had gone as far as a sincere friend would counsel them to go, and that they had done so in some sort of special reliance on the English minister's

ambassador, that he "could not doubt that he [the King of Denmark] would be assisted by powers friendly to Denmark in its [Schleswig's] defence"? Was there any other government which in pressing on Denmark the course she finally adopted as to the Schleswig constitution said, like Lord Wodehouse, that, "If the Danish Government rejected my advice, Her Majesty's government must leave Denmark to encounter Germany on her own responsibility"??—a statement which surely judgment and counsel. The other powers,

implied a well-founded hope that if the Danish Government accepted that advice it might not be left to encounter Germany on its own responsibility.

says Lord Russell, recommended the same concession. No doubt. But did the other, powers promise the Danish minister's—or even stand in the relation in which such a promise could have been asked, not to propose any further concession without their own consent? Although we do not know how Denmark was induced to consent to abandon all Holstein, a great slice of Schleswig, and all Lauenburg (which had never been in dispute) in exchange for the middle part of Schleswig, there can be no manner of doubt that it was done in the legitimate hope of securing material aid if that great concession should be rejected by the Germans,—and that England was uppermost, and rightly uppermost, in the Danish plenipotentiaries' thoughts as having tacitly admitted that they had gone as far as they could fairly be expected to go for the sake of peace. The concession was rejected, and then Lord Russell, breaking the spirit of his promise, without the consent of Denmark suggested that a friendly power should be asked to choose a line between the two frontiers proposed respectively by Germany and Denmark, and therefore, of course, a line less advantageous to Denmark than the Schlei. And then, because the Danes would not hear of it, though it was also rejected—as usual in much more diplomatic and evasive terms, but quite as substantially-by the Germans, Lord Russell made their refusal to a proposition which he had in spirit engaged not to propose the excuse for denying them that final aid which he knew they would expect, and which he evidently felt grave compunctions in withholding. Now we say this is a

We admit that the deeper became the peril and the sufferings of Denmark, the more wary became the tone of Her Majesty's representatives. Lord Russell, in urging the Conference on Denmark, expressly said that if he could offer material aid, he might then demand her acceptance of this Conference as a condition of that aid, but that he was not in a position to do so. At the same time he hinted clearly enough that Denmark would be most imprudent in offending England by declining her advice. And, then again, at the Conference, the external though not the internal history of which is now before us, it is clear that the hope of that aid led Denmark into concession after concession. It induced her first to raise the blockade at sea as a condition of the suspension of hostilities,—a most unfair condition, for which she received no proper equivalent at all, and which, as Lord Clarendon pointed out, was not made a condition of the meeting of the Congress of Paris in 1856. It induced her, again, when it became clear that the German powers had been guilty of sheer treachery in declaring that they did not contemplate the dismemberment of Denmark, to offer a really great territorial sacrifice for the sake of gaining peace,- -a sacrifice conceded, as Lord Russell himself admits, on the strength of his own personal promise that he would not advocate without Denmark's full consent any more disadvantageous territorial frontier than that which he proposed in the name of the neutral powers, and which Den-history of very special encouragement to mark accepted, the line of the Schlei. Now can any one pretend that when Lord Russell gave this promise, to which he publicly confesses, and which we grieve to say he broke flagrantly in the spirit, if not in the letter,

Denmark,—a history of encouragement of a kind which no other great neutral power has given, or even half given. We have repeatedly spoken of our armed interference as a very probable contingency; we have used

that probable contingency as a motive to bring Denmark to reason time after time; we have, through our foreign minister, intimated tacitly but clearly that Denmark had conceded as much as in the interests of peace she could be expected to concede,-and then we have coldly abandoned her.

skilful lies, and surrounded them with such an air of hypocritical candor, that he for his part expects the final push; and the words are hardly out of his mouth before the order is published for the permanent occupation of the purely Danish province of Jutland, and the appropriation of its revenues to the wants of the occupying army.

We have made it clear, then,-painfully clear,-that we have led Denmark to build on our help, as no other great neutral power has done; that we have used the hope of ultimate help to extort from her piecemeal concessions inadequate to satisfy her enemies, adequate only to lay obligations upon us; that we have virtually admitted that these concessions have been pushed to the furthest reasonable point; that, had we not interfered at all, Denmark could not well now be in nearly so hopeless a condition as she is; and that, in spite of all this, we have had the effrontery to wonder how she could put forward any special claim on us, to which France and Russia are not equally liable. To us, we

And now as to the other question: is Denmark practically no worse off than she would be if we had never interfered at all, or is she even the better by the exact amount of our reiterated but rather unsuccessful advice? No thinking man can doubt for a moment that she is worse off. It is now morally certain she will lose Jutland, probable that she will lose the islands. Had she never felt a hope of our interference,—had she been buoyed up by no dream of a great power in reserve, there can be no doubt that after the first disastrous campaign, she would have yielded to force majeure, and saved Jutland at least, by abandoning the rest. If the pressure of English counsel has squeezed out concession after concession, it was the secret hope of English aid that kept up the buoy-confess, this appears to be conduct which ancy of resistance. No greater injury can be done to a weak State than to hold out, however vaguely, hopes of assistance until the ambitions and powers of her antagonists are fully roused. To counsel, as we did, piecemeal concessions instead of to counsel her frankly to make the best terms she could with the enemy, since she had nothing to hope from us, was, virtually to abandon her in the most fatal way possible. We have coaxed her back step by step towards the edge of the precipice, half intending ourselves, wholly persuading her to expect, our own final interposition. Now that she is on the very edge, we coldly conclude our prudential calculation, find that it will risk more than we like, and so withdraw-that she will do this, and not even feel it with a polite and even compassionate bow, as she falls over the brink of the abyss into which Germany is pushing her. Lord Russell even takes the pains to remark that Prussia and Austria still profess not to intend the final push, but that they have told so many

ought to sap our moral influence abroad and make our friendship worthless. That England will fulfil her former contracts is still unquestionable. But that she will deliberately inspire hopes which she does not care to satisfy,-that she will betray by ambiguous encouragement, and then set off her own interests against the ruin of her dependant,-that she will exact a compliance with her advice, up to the very brink of ruin, as the price of possible help, and then, without even a promise of that help, reproach her victim with want of trust for not complying with her last and hardest recommendation, and intimate that all claim on her is forfeited,

shameful, is now, we fear, beyond question; and who can say that this is not conduct which must abridge even our material power, curtail largely our international influence, and dishonor our English name?

General Alexander Hayes, commanding the Sec-To stand in their lot, and having done all, to ond Brigade of Getty's Division, was killed. He

was hard pressed, and sent word to Hancock that Yet truly it little matters; no choice a brave he must have reinforcements. "Tell him," said Hancock, "to hold his ground twenty minutes and he shall be relieved;" but before twenty minutes expired, his body was brought in.-" Carleton," in Boston Journal, May 5th.

CHAPTER XLIV.

well as I did, and in any case I have nothing

MR. SLOWCOME GOES TO SILLMOUTH, AND TAKES more to tell about him."

NOTHING BY HIS MOTION.

"You admit that the church registers were at one period kept at your house?" "I have told you that such was the case, since you expressed curiosity upon the subject. There was no question of admitting one way or the other in the matter, Mr. Sligo. I have nothing to admit or deny on the subject. The books were at one time kept at my house,-not because it was my house, but because it was the clergyman's lodging. I had nothing to do with the bringing of them there, or with the taking of

"Well, well, never mind whether it is admitting or stating; you say that the registers were subsequently taken back to the church?"

"You speak of registers, sir; but I have no recollection of having seen more than one book, and that not a very big one. During the latter years of Mr. Mellish's life, that book used to be kept in the vestry."

"And was always at hand there, I suppose, when needed?"

DR. LINDISFARN and Mr. Sligo gained nothing by their excursion to Chewton. Their researches were equally fruitless on the special objects of both gentlemen. The evident priority which the doctor gave to his archæological investigations was a matter of the most intense astonishment, and almost, one may say, of scandal, to Mr. Sligo. That an elderly gentleman in the possession of his senses, so nearly interested as Dr. Lindisfarn was in the result of the examinations which he (Mr. Sligo) was there for the pur- them back again to the church. The responpose of making, should utterly fail to take sibility for the custody of them lay with the any rational interest in the matter, manifest-parson, and not with the clerk, as you no ly in consequence of his being wholly ab- doubt are well aware, Mr. Sligo." sorbed by his anxiety to discover the meaning of certain syllables which in all probability had no meaning at all, and at all events, none that could be supposed to affect the title of any human being to any amount of property real or personal, was a phenomenon so new, so wholly unaccountable to Mr. Sligo, and so distasteful to him, that it made him cross with the doctor. He began to think that the admission that the old canon was in the perfect possession of his senses was an "I suppose so, sir; but it was often for assumption not warranted by the facts in months at a time together that it was never evidence. The doctor, on his part, was revolt- needed. We don't bury, marry, or christen ed by his companion's evident want of inter-every day out on the moor here, as you peoest in the whole question of the mysterious ple do in the towns!" inscription, and the cursory and impatient attention which was all that he could induce him to accord to it. He looked at the wooden panel in question, tapped it with his knuckles, stared, at the doctor's request, at the inscribed letters, and declared that, as "I could not at all undertake to say when far as he could see, there never had been any I saw the book last. Old Farmer Boultby, of others; at all events, his eyes could see no the Black Tor Farm, out towards the coast, traces of any such. was, I think, the last parishioner buried by 66 And now, Mr. Mallory," he said to the Mr. Mellish, a month or so maybe before old clerk, who, having accompanied the two his own death. Whether his burial was reggentlemen to the church, had been standing istered or not, I can't say; nor whether it by, impassible and grave as a judge, while was done at the time of the ceremony or not. this examination was in progress, and Very often the curate would put the entries now, Mr. Mallory, if Dr. Lindisfarn is satis-into the register afterward." Further crossfied that there is nothing more to be discov-questioning of the old man only obtained from ered here, we will, with your leave, rèturn to your house, and resume the subject on which we were speaking."

"As Dr. Lindisfarn pleases," said the old clerk, gravely; "but he, as it is reasonable to suppose, knew the late Mr. Mellish as

"When was the last time that you have any recollection of having yourself seen the book, Mr. Mallory?" asked Sligo. "How long before the death of Mr. Mellish, now, had you a death, or a burial,— ‚—or a christening?"

him that he "could not say how long afterwards-at any convenient time-he did not mean by that to say when the curate was sober, though it might be that sometimes he was not altogether so at the time of the performance of the function."

"No doubt she had them, Mr. Sligo. Of my own personal knowledge I can affirm nothing about it. The whole subject of the marriage was a very painful one to me. I would have prevented it if I could have done so, without the risk of greater evil to my unfortunate child."

"Unfortunate, Mr. Mallory?" cried Sligo. "Well, I don't know what you may call fortunate, but "-

66

In short, all that Mr. Mallory could recol- | Mallory,—of course she had them?" asked lect were circumstances tending to show that Sligo, suddenly. the whole ecclesiastical administration of the parish was in the greatest possible disorder in every respect in the old times when Mr. Mellish was curate, near ten years ago; and he could not recollect any single fact which could help to fix the existence of the missing register at any ascertained date or place. He could remember, however, perfectly well that when Mr. Partloe, who succeeded Mr. Mellish in the curacy, came, there was no book to be found, and Mr. Partloe had procured a new one. Mr. Partloe was a very different sort of gentleman from Mr. Mellish,very particular, and very regular. The new book was always kept in the vestry, was there now. They were still without any proper chest at Chewton; but the new register was, from the time of Mr. Partloe's coming, always kept in a little cupboard in the vestry, which he had caused to be put up at his own expense. Mr. Partloe had been curate only four years. The register-book had been kept with the most perfect regularity all that time; as it had indeed by the present curate, Mr. Bellings, who had succeeded Mr. Partloe. Mr. Bellings was not at home, having ridden over that morning to Silverton. Dr. Lindisfarn and Mr. Sligo must have met him, had they not come by the other road, which alone was passable for wheels. But it would be easy to obtain an opportunity of examining the new register, which had been kept from the time of the death of Mr. Mellish. Very easy, no doubt; and altogether useless as regarded the business in hand.

What search had been made for the missing register by Mr. Partloe when he came there after Mellish's death, Mr. Mallory could not say, but felt certain that Mr. Partloe must have exhausted every means for finding it, as he was such a very particular gentleman.

Had the old book never been needed in all these ten years? Mr. Sligo asked; had nobody in all that time required to refer to it for the establishment of any of the facts of which it constituted the sole legal record? No, nobody. When folk were dead out in the moor there, nobody wanted to ask any more about them. When folk were married, they got their marriage lines, and that was all that was needed.

"And your daughter's marriage lines, Mr.

My daughter was induced to make a marriage, Mr. Sligo, to which her position in life did not entitle her; which she was compelled to keep secret for many long and painful years, while calumny and scandal were at work with her name; which took her husband from her within a few months of their union; which has ended in leaving her a widow,-a widow widowed in such a fearful manner, and compelled by duty to her child to assert its rights with hostility against a family for whom I have the greatest respect, and with a result that is lamented by and is unwelcome to the whole country-side. You must excuse me, Mr. Sligo," said the old man, who had been speaking under the influence of his feelings in a somewhat higher strain than that of his usual talk,—“ you must excuse me if I cannot consider the marriage a fortunate one in any respect; and I feel confident that Dr. Lindisfarn will enter into my sentiments on the subject."

"I am sure, Mallory, your feelings are all that they ought to be on the subject. It is an unhappy business. If my poor boy were living, it might have been different. As it is you see— -ha-hum-I wonder, Mallory, whether poor Mellish could have thrown any light on that singular inscription in the vestry corridor?"

"Not he, sir. It is little he thought of such matters," said the old man, glancing at Mr. Sligo as he spoke.

"When was the last whitewashing done, Mallory?" asked the doctor, meditatively.

"When Mr. Partloe first came here, sir. He was a great man for whitewash, Mr. Partloe was, sir, a tidy sort of a gentleman, who liked to have things clean and neat. He had all the passage leading to the vestry and the vestry itself new whitewashed."

"It is very unfortunate," sighed the doctor.