abroad to explore unknown tracts of country, and he has added considerably to our stores of knowledge illustrative of the geography of Central Africa. His account of the Damaras is extremely interesting. The volume is full of novel information, conveyed in a pleasant unpretending style, not without an elegance of its own. Indeed, we have not recently met with a volume of travel that has pleased us more. The "explorer" is a man of the right kind, cheerful and robust in body and mind, not shrinking from danger, but possessing far too much good sense to rush into it without good occasion. It is a great thing to know when to stop. Many valuable lives would have been saved, and much would have been gained to science, if all our travellers had known how to turn back at the right point.

Mr. Galton was a sportsman - not of the truculent Cumming school, but still a hearty and vigorous one. Mr. Palliser, however, seems to be a mightier Nimrod. With Mr. Galton the chase was only subsidiary to geographical inquiry. With Mr. Palliser it seems to have been the paramount object of his exploration of the Prairies. His volume,* for those especially who delight in the wild sports of the West, has abundant attractions. It teems with accounts of perilous adventures in the heart of vast forests, deadly encounters with gigantic animals, illustrating the mastery of man over even the most tremendous beasts of the field. The volume is sure to find readers. Until the manliness of England is extinct such works as Mr. Palliser's will surely find acceptance amongst us. Among other new works, of a less exciting character, we may especially notice Mr. Loring Brace's "Home Life in Germany.” The title of the volume very fitly characterises its contents, and its style is in keeping with them. There is something in its quiet earnestness which pleases us greatly. It is written by one who thoroughly understands the German people in their social and domestic relations, who looks beneath the surface of things and gives graceful utterance to his impressions. Here and there we are reminded of Washington Irving, both by the quiet tone of thought and the elegant facility of expression. Differing much from this volume is "Las Alforjas," in which there is far more action. All is bustle and animation; but our readers know Mr. Cayley, and, through him, the Bridle-roads of Spain, too well to render necessary any introduction of the author or any description of his work. In his "Pine Forests and Hacmatac Clearings Colonel Sleigh carries us over different ground. His is a volume of " travel, life and adventure, in the British North American Provinces." It forms an admirable supplement to Major Strickland's "Twenty-seven Years in Canada." Colonel Sleigh, like Major Strickland, writes "C. M." after his name, and has a good deal of the Major's robust energy. But we hardly think that the title of the book does full justice to its contents. There is a considerable mass of historical and other information in it which such a title by no means represent.

"Solitary Rambles and Adventures of a Hunter in the Prairies." By John Palliser. London, 1853.

It was very good of the Marquis and Marchioness of Rotherhithe to keep open house at this period of the political crisis, for they both detest crowds, and have been actually known, after twenty years of marriage, to spend a whole month in one of their country-seats without a single visitor, and in what they are intrepid enough to call, and, it is believed, deluded enough to think, the enjoyment of one another's society. It is hardly necessary to say that the world did its amiable utmost to affix a disagreeable significance to their matrimonial amity. First, it was urged that they were stingy, but the good-natured, open-handed couple speedily lived down this scandal. Then, something was hinted about the state of the Marquis's intellect, and little Baldy Curlew, whose mission in this world is to account for things, discovered that a great aunt of the family had at one time been under restraint, which, as times go, was quite enough to establish the desired conclusion. But, unluckily for Curlew, the Marquis came out with a mathematical treatise which set all the universities of Europe assailing him with eulogies and diplomas. Then people said it must be the Marchioness, and speculated whether she kept out of society for fear of meeting some only man she had really loved, but this hypothesis was inconveniently met by the utter impossibility of fixing upon the dreaded man, with any decent show of probability. Next, the Rotherhithes were suspected of religion, and both St. Barnabas's and Exeter Hall were closely watched by the social police, but no criminating evidence, Tractarian or Evangelical, could be obtained; while on the other hand, the unconscious couple attended Ascot and the Opera with much regularity. So the solution was left to time, and the world is quite certain that one of these days the truth will come out. Of course it no more occurred to the world to attribute the phenomenon to its real cause, than it did to Pantagruel and his friends, when walking in the fields near Paris, to speak to Panurge in French, until they had tried every other language in the world; but the simple fact. was, that the Marquis was sincerely attached to his wife, that the Marchioness loved him very earnestly, and that they were both accomplished people; he having a good deal of the student's nature, and she liking best that which best pleased him. Anxious

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to avoid personality, I will not say a great deal about people whose infirmity is not so common as to prevent their being easily recog nised, but it is fair to record, that among the innumerable sacrifices made by patriots at the period of the crisis, that of the Rotherhithes, who held all crowds to be a bore, was not the smallest, as will be admitted by those who recollect that at the same eventful date, several expectant statesmen sacrificed their principles.

It was, however, but common charity on the part of the Rotherhithes to offer a neutral ground where men could meet their riends and enemies without being compromised. There was a mass of bewildered politicians, who, just then, could go nowhere with safety. The various leaders on both sides kept their doors shut, meditated a little on their intended policy, and a great deal on speeches explanatory thereof. To the houses of avowed partizans, of lesser note, it was of course dangerous to go until patriotism saw its way. But Rotherhithe House was a harbour of refuge, where the political men of war could lie at anchor, and indeed lie in any way that occurred to them. The Marquis had politics, but they were in his proxy, and his proxy was in the hands of a good and great man in whose keeping many a good and small man's conscience was better placed than if its owner had retained it. The Marchioness had more decided politics, but they were chiefly foreign and very impartial. She cultivated refugees of all kinds. So that a man had run away from something, the dear Marchioness cared little from which side he had escaped. She was Britannia in miniature. Poles, Carlists, Magyars, Jesuits, Reds, Whites, and Blacks, were sure of a place under the Rotherhithe ægis. And the story of each victim in succession produced its due effect on her kindly nature, and she is said to have rather pestered the Foreign Secretary with the startling revelations brought over by the polyglot protégés, who supplied her with new and variously coloured light upon European interests. But neither Lord Rotherhithe nor his wife was a party adherent, and their house was one which the most timid time-server could haunt without fear of consequences. And when the crisis came, and the Cabinet fell, the Rotherhithes, who had not given a dozen dinners during the season, fairly set Rotherhithe House open. It was rather supposed that the Earl of Rookbury, who delighted in moving about in such gatherings as a crisis assembles, and tormenting those who were already afflicted, had counselled the Rotherhithes to this hospitality. For he was a sportsman of the atrocious class who strew food for the poor birds, and then fire upon them, inhospitably.

The Rotherhithes had "entertained a small and select party at dinner;" and among the entertained people were Lord Rookbury and Francis Selwyn, who, as usual had a theological fight, this time on the article on Justification, in which as Selwyn was getting the advantage, Lord Rookbury went away to hear an act of Lucrezia Borgia. There was also a new bishop there, a very handsome man, who took no part in the controversy, and perhaps listened with the faintest possible curl of his fine lip, as a professional will when

amateurs go to work. Next to his Lordship had sat the dandy. democrat, Clavering Dorset, of whom the bishop had been a little afraid, knowing that on the subject of religion and aristocracy, Dorset's avowed faith, like the Book of Esther, contained neither the word God nor Lord. But Clavering had behaved with exceeding propriety, and had gone so far in agreeing with the bishop on the topic of education, and likewise on that of the Philharmonic Concerts, that his Lordship was quite pleased, and thought, in his heart, that if the people were led by no worse men than Dorset, they could not go so very wrong but that sermons and church extension might do the rest. There were a few other people of quiet note, and the Rotherhithes would have been tolerably pleased with the dinner, but that a crowd was to come in later.

The rooms looked very well when filled. If they were mine, I should take out at least half the sculpture, and lighten those heavy lines in the elaborate ceiling of the principal saloon, and hang the large painting where it could not be seen so well; and I should further improve the house by keeping out Baldy Curlew, and all the men who talk to him in a low voice on landings, and give a mouchard air to their proceedings. But Rotherhithe House is one of the best houses in London, and this evening its statues, and its flowers, and its soft lights, and its music, and about three hundred people, "left nothing to be desired," as people say, except, perhaps, the absence of Baldy Curlew, whose mission is to account for things.

Selwyn had good naturedly got an evening invitation for his young Secretary, who had commenced his duties, and had given some satisfaction to his chief by the tact with which he had dismissed a jobbing deputation whom it would have been inconvenient to the ex-minister to receive. Carlyon had managed to convey such intense regrets on the part of Selwyn that he could not see the party, and had so succeeded in impressing upon them, that, if there were one subject in the world to which the Minister devoted mornings of study and nights of reflection, that subject was the best way in which Eel-Pie Island could be made a naval depot, that the courtesy of Selwyn had been trumpeted at half-a-dozen vestry meetings. And the feat did the more credit to the Minister and to the Secretary, seeing that the former had utterly forgotten the appointment until the deputation was announced, and the latter had only time to catch a few hurried words from Selwyn and to get up the points from the Eel-Pie memorial as he walked down stairs to turn the memorialists out. Bernard had, therefore, honestly earned his card for the Marchioness's party.

That amiable person had also extended her invitations to all her presentable refugees, and there were a good many picturesque heads and well-waxed moustaches sprinkled among the party, and much French and Italian swelled the miscellaneous murmur which, varied by pleasant feminine laughs, came upon the ear as one ascended the grand staircase. As Bernard went up, Lord Rookbury, who had only waited to see Grisi poison her son, and was now marking the people who arrived, called to him.

"Well, Mr. Carlyon. Constructing a new ministry, eh? What do you keep for yourself?"

"I thought of asking your lordship what you considered me fit for," said Bernard.

"Ah! That's quite another matter. Suppose you take the colonies-they will improve you in geography, and as nobody cares about them, any little blunder at starting will do no great harm. There's always a run for the colonies when there's a change-so many rising men want to qualify themselves for more serious business. Do you know the Marchioness? No? I'll present you."

The introduction made, Carlyon was going on through the rooms, but Lord Rookbury detained him.

"Stay here a little-never mind the women-a statesman's mind should be above such trifles. Here's Acton Calveley, another young man whose geography will bear improving, vide his last book, passim. He has a notion that the new men will give him something, whereas they'll do nothing of the kind, for two reasons. Well, Calveley, are we to congratulate you? I heard your name mentioned in a very high place this morning."

"I believe that—a—nothing is settled," said Acton Calveley, in a confidential voice and with a very mysterious look, for both of which Lord Rookbury resolved to take instant vengeance.

"I am sincerely sorry to hear you say that, Calveley," said his lordship, in a tone of great interest, "as it implies that you are not to be congratulated. Were it otherwise, you would have known that all is settled."

Calveley tried to smile, but it was harder work than a man at his time of life ought to be put to.

"Your information is always so unexceptionable, Lord Rookbury, and yet I am disposed to think that you are mistaken-at least premature."

"My dear Acton," said Lord Rookbury, with an air which implied that he was going to put the matter beyond the possibility of doubt, "this gentleman you should know one another, by the way, Mr. Carlyon, Mr. Calveley - this gentlemen is private secretary to Mr. Selwyn. I suppose I need say

"Certainly," said Acton, "that is authority which—but I must speak to Lady Rotherhithe." And he entered her presence, rather abruptly for so very well-mannered a person.

66

Eligible young man, that, for an Under Secretary," said Lord Rookbury, looking after him for a moment. "What could you have to do with it?”

"That is exactly what I should have asked him, if he had waited," said Bernard. "But why did you refer to me?"

66 To show you what feather-heads these talented young men are. You must study such people, as you will be in contact with a good many of them in your time, Mr. Secretary Carlyon."

Bernard did not answer, but he thought that, on the whole,