But is it impossible that a large sympathy with human nature, and an accumulated knowledge of historical facts, should even enable us to gange, in some approximate degree at least, the force, and in some approximate degree, at least, predict the manifestation of those sublime Wants which make men capable of utter self-devotion in order that that which they may believe to be of the Devil-false and unjust-may be swept away, and in order that that which they may believe to be of God-just and true-may triumph? Can any scientific thinker imagine that these passions of belief burst out of themselves, and without such definable conditions, as, for instance, the destruction of old Ideals, and what History should seem to prove to be the necessary consequence of that-the presentation of new Ideals? But if a force has a definable condition of manifestation, then is not such manifestation predictable, and is it not thus at once brought within the domain of science? It is from the intimate internal point of view to which we are thus fed that our historical conception of Christianity, and of the relations of Semites and of Aryans, is completed and made more true. No doubt, when we see Christianism to be, in its external form, but a mere Osirianism, we may justify the opposition of Judaism and Islamism to its mythological superstition and idolatrous worship, and hence considerably modify the views usually entertained of the relations of Semites and Aryans in the development of European civilisation. But when we consider the myths and doctrines of Christianism from the internal point of view of the moral wants creative of, and satisfied by them, we must acknowledge that, notwithstanding the fictitiousness of its Osirian mythology and the many pernicious social consequences that follow from its intellectual falsehood, it was certainly well for the future of human development that the unmythologic and unidolatrous, and hence intellectually less false creed of Mohammed, did not, as it should seem so nearly to have done at the seven days' battle of Tours (A.D. 735), impose itself on Europe. . . Many other thoughts suggested them VOL. CXVIII.-NO. DCCXVII. selves as the corollaries of these; but one only need here be noted. If Moral Forces are to be thus regarded, and if Ideas are thus what is essential in human life, immortality is the deathlessness of what is truly one's soul, the Ideas one has expressed, and these are divisible into mortals and immortals. At length I descended the little trapdoor that led from the broad, flat roof and the doming stars, and got to my star outstretching room and bed." After this the reader will fully understand how grateful is the sigh of relief which we breathe when at last Mr Glennie is fairly got to bed. The reflections (for they cannot be called argument) which we have thus abridged occupy five large sentation of the daily progress of pages, and give a very fair reprethe book, in which every evening there occurs a similar arguification. Mr Buckle, in most cases, retires precipitately, leaving the wordy Scot to have it out with the stars; but, alas! when the discussion goes more with his views, remains, as has been sadly seen in his after fate. Notwithstanding, however, the portentous length and arrogance of these reasonings, there is a curious something about them, a naïve and artless flavour of enthusiasm, and what we might call intellectual inexperience-such as we had occasion to remark, not very long ago, in the writings of Mr Congreve - which has an amusing and almost attractive effect upon the reader who can manage to keep his mind free from all prejudice, and take with composure this romantic crusade against the Christian faith. We do not think Mr Glennie will do the Christian faith very much harm; and meantime he impresses upon our mind a mental portrait of such simplicity and straightforwardness, that we feel disposed to be pleased with such a new acquaintance. His faith in himself is not repulsive, as self-con G fidence generally is, but has something in it of that artless grandeur of youth, which few amiable spectators can be angry with. Such absolute certainty of being right, such warm faith in a great many things which seem sufficiently problematical to the ordinary mind,as, for instance, the inevitable acceptance of humanitarian principles by the universe at large, and a smaller, but perhaps scarcely more apparently probable event the universal choice by Arabs and other Easterns of British rulers were they left to their own choice,— involves a certain innocence and delightful fresh credulity which captivates the world-worn spectator. This cannot be the result of mere natural youthfulness, since Mr Glennie was old enough in 1862 to be allowed to travel in the East by himself without tutor or other governor. It can only, then, be the influence of that new faith, whose adherents, if they are not very many, are very superior people. Its inspiration, whether it ever produces more valuable results, has certainly had the effect of affording to us one or two studies of character containing so strange a mixture of intellectual magnificence and simplicity that the appearance of a new specimen is grateful to the reader. Our old faiths, let us confess it, do not so much favour the frank personal revelations of a humanitarian philosopher, perhaps because they do not flatter us with the sense of so much individual importance. But it is a pity, when a humanitarian, or any other philosopher, permits himself to digress into ribaldries which even the vulgarest scoffer would be ashamed of. Mr Buckle and Mr Glennie at the Fountain of the Virgin afford us an unparalleled tableau; and it is inconceivable how men calling themselves gentlemen, even had they ori ginated after dinner, in a moment of excitement, such a thought, should have so little regard for their own characters as to record it. Poetry must be dead indeed, and all lovely associations faded out of a corrupt world (to ignore altogether what Mr Glennie calls Christianism, and that consideration for the feelings of a large portion of humanity which should surely never be absent from the bosom of a humanitarian), when the tender image of Mary of Nazareth suggests only a vile insinuation to the mind of any civilised man. Poor, vain, dead and gone philosopher! whose works, highly as he prized them, are likely enough to follow him-if not in the Scriptural sense, at least to the grave, where he went untimely. He did not believe in the differences of race, and thought an aboriginal Australian just as likely to be born with genius as an English baby. And to prove this, pointed "with characteristic frankness to the phrenological indications of his own head-his forehead having been, before he became bald, not even apparently by any means very high or very broad; and yet!-but it was the circumstances of his life." An American observer, quoted by Mr Glennie, relates a similar story of Buckle's simple vanity: he was telling this gentleman that his peculiar views had made no difference in the enthusiasm with which he was regarded. "In fact," said he, naïvely, "the people of England have such an admiration of any kind of intellectual splendour, that they will forgive for its sake the most objectionable doctrines." This grotesque egotism is not like Mr Glennie's delightful, simple selfsatisfaction, but a much coarser thing, conveying no intellectual pleasure, but only the mere gratification of a laugh, painfully mingled with shame and pity, to the lookeron. * We are grateful to Miss Thackeray for the possibility she affords us of ending pleasantly with something which is picturesque, and soft, and tender-a quaint and pretty sketch of a bygone age. Miss Angel is not a very lofty character, nor is it a great work in which her gentle fortunes are followed to that end of subdued happiness, very different from the visionary delight and ecstasy which the young artist looked for, but the best fate that could befall her. The story begins in Venice and ends in England; and the pictures of the gleaming canals of the Queen of the Adriatic and the old glories of St James's and the quaint red-roofed streets of Windsor, are alike charming, vague with a golden or misty haze, which is different from the higher colour of Miss Thackeray's earlier pictures, but yet in itself often very captivating. We confess that Angelica's sudden acceptance and marriage of De Horn, and his apparently quite purposeless and ineffectual deception, and the love for him which evidently springs up in her mind solely when she finds how basely he has tricked her, require elucidation and explanation; but probably the facts which she has followed are more to blame than the author. Facts are most unsatisfactory leaders in a work of fiction. They will not fit into their proper place, or admit of that dramatic treatment which art demands, but are stubborn always according to their proverbial character; but nothing can be prettier than some of the scenes in which poor little pretty Angelica, the overpraised artist and Royal Academician, yet real artlover and producer of pretty pictures, is the heroine of the moment, with such bigger figures as Mr Reynolds and Mr Fuseli paying court to her. * The fantastic beautiful ambassadress, who is her first patroness, and brings her to England, the kind and somewhat stern Lady Diana, and all the less notable flutterers of society, are as prettily put in as Miss Angel herself could have done it; and there is a higher aim than Miss Angel's in the old tender yet not unselfish father, and the grave critic-lover Antonio, who is quite a new type, distinct from the ordinary bear-lovers of ladies' novels, and much more attractive. Miss Thackeray, with higher art than that of those story-tellers who represent their heroine as fascinated and enslaved by heroes of this pattern, never pretends that poor Angelica liked to be found fault with, or adored her critic for his brutality, like the Jane Eyres of recent fiction. Indeed, good Antonio is never brutal; and Angelica accepts him only with grateful friendship, not adoring love, in the end, after all her adorations are over. On the whole, in its pretty rococo grace, quite artificial, yet quaintly true, the story is a pleasant study-not the least like the more powerful and elaborate conception of Esmond, for instance, but delicate and charming, with a quality of its own. Where is there a thing which could not be found fault with if the critic tried? but in this case there is no temptation or inducement to find fault. Kensington' had perhaps some indications of greater power in the characters which were sufficiently marked out; but 'Miss Angel' has none of the bewilderment and hazy indistinctness which spoiled that story, and is always clear in its narrative, if it may be a little indistinct in motive-a fault, however, that arises not from defect of fiction, but from the artistic disadvantages of fact and real life. Miss Angel. By Miss Thackeray. Smith, Elder, & Co. 'Old SPEKE'S NILE-LIVINGSTONE'S CONGO. MY DEAR BLACKWOOD,-I wish to call your attention to an article in the Quarterly Review' for April on the Last Journals of Dr Livingstone,' with a request that, from old friendship and interest in the question, you will afford me space in your magazine to correct very erroneous geographical statements, which, deriving importance from their appearance in so influential a publication, tend to mislead the public, and, at the expense of other travellers, to lay claim for Livingstone to discoveries which neither any geographer of position nor any geographical society attributes to him at the present day. His fame, achieve ments, and reputation are far too high to need any such bolstering up; and with your assistance I shall try to show where the writer of the article is mistaken. At the commencement of his article, the author asserts that Livingstone not only desired to discover, but did discover, the ultimate sources of the Nile. I quote the portion I allude to: "The work recorded, though left to be finished by other labourers, was the fit crown of Livingstone's discoveries in Africa. From long personal friendship, and especially from correspondence with him of late years,' Mr Waller testifies, that Livingstone wanted just some such gigantic problem as that which he attacked at the last, to measure his strength against-the determination of the true, the primary, the real sources of the Nile, is abundantly shown to be the explorer's favourite aim. He had studied the history of prior attempts, of old guesses, of foregone or inadequately supported conclusions. He more than once alludes to the exposition by the geographer Ptolemy of the state of Egyptian know ledge in the second century of our era, and to his representation of the Nile's origin. Among the questions thereby suggested the first was: Of the sevethe interior of Africa, in the discovery ral mighty reservoirs of rain-water in of which Livingstone had borne the greater share, which of them answered best to Ptolemy's 'two lakes situated east and west of each other' (i. 388), i.e. in about the same parallel of latitude, viz. 'between 10° and 12° south" (ib. ib.)? Without attaching much importance to the shapes or sizes of these lakes, from which, in the oldest of reasonably trustworthy maps, the two embryo streams flow northward,. converging to form the 'White Nile' -where were the 'Montes Luna'? and, above all, what was the nature of the several streams flowing therefrom to supply the Ptolemean lakes, which the majority now vote to be the 'Victoria Nyanza' of Speke, and the 'Albert Nyanza' of Baker? The geographer of Livingstone's stamp has no repose in the latitudes of those lakes; he cannot rest without finding their feeders; he must pursue the quest, southward, of these intercepting reservoirs. "Whichever might receive a share of any streams flowing from Lake Tanganyika, that mightier and more southern fresh-water sea gave no solution to the problem of the coy fountains." Livingstone could not and would not turn his back on them' (i. 388). Nay, though he waded through them to the death, he would find out whither they flowed and what they became. And here we come to his great and characteristic discovery; not only of the ultimate sources of the Nile, but of other great rivers of Africa; moreover, of a physical condition of the earth's surface in elevated tracts of the great continent, unknown before." The above is put plainly enough, but it does not appear by what or whose authority. The writings and maps of Dr Livingstone, and of travellers and writers on the subject, have been carefully examined by me, but I have been unable to find any evidence whatever to justify the writer of the article in having come to what may at least be called a hasty conclusion. The writer might have made much more of Dr Livingstone's travels had he but simply described the geography appropriate to them, and not touched upon ground over which Livingstone had never travelled, namely, over Nile-land. 5th. He has "defined the true watershed of Inner Southern Africa," as suggested to him by the late President of the Royal Geographical Society, Sir Roderick Murchison. Had Dr Livingstone been spared, he would, without doubt, have followed his rivers and lakes to the sea; but unfortunately for geography, this was prevented by his untimely end. He never connected any portion of his watersystem with the waters of the Nile The discoveries made by Livingstone in his last journey may be noted under five heads, each great and important, without assuming that they decide the sources of the Nile. Livingstone had in fact never in fact, it may be said with little travelled beyond Inner Southern hesitation, that none of the rain Africa, a region embracing the river which falls upon the regions last Congo, and quite unconnected with visited by Dr Livingstone, finds the Nile, which belongs almost com- its way beyond the basin of the pletely to the northern hemisphere. river Congo. In his travels he did not cross the watershed of "Inner Southern Africa" to the more northern slopes of Nile-land. The Congo, indeed, is a southern hemisphere river, more emphatically than the Nile is of the northern hemisphere; the equatorial zone of high ground at two to three degrees south latitude completely separating the Congo or Southern Region from the Nile or Northern Region. But I proceed to give what, in a few brief words, may be broadly laid down as the geographical discoveries accomplished by Dr Livingstone in his last travels. 1st. Livingstone has discovered a vast basin which in its character, its people, and its fauna, is distinct from that of the Nile. 2d. He has discovered lakes and rivers so vast in their extent that, by reason of their volume of water, and, it may be added, by their lowness of altitude, they cannot be wedged into the waters of the Nile. 3d. He has discovered the sources of a mighty river which is three times the size of the White Nile, and can only be compared in magnitude to the river Congo. 4th. He and Mr Stanley have seen the waters at the north end of Lake Tanganyika flowing into and not out of this lake. The most northerly point reached by him was when, accompanied by Mr Stanley, he inspected the northern extremity of Lake Tanganyika, which is about 3° S. lat. this point the two travellers found At as previously indicated by the late Captain Speke - that they were still upon the southern slopes of "Inner Southern Africa," that they had not even reached the watershed; for the waters from the mountains at the north end of the lake flowed into it, and thence, as supposed by Lieut. Lovett Cameron, to the Congo. His most westerly point was in Manyema, which is in a longitude 7° to the west of the known course of the Nile. This in itself is conclusive evidence to most men that, in his last travels, he could never have been out of the basin of the river Congo. All these discoveries are prodigious for one man to have made; and I cannot but feel surprise that the writer of the article was not satisfied with them, but should have |