things prevails. The proprieties of life are not shamelessly outraged, and outwardly law and order are maintained. Before I left Africa I had the opportunity of becoming personally acquainted with Tete, Quillimane, and Mozambique. I went to Tete with a friend who was striving as a geologist to enrich the realm of science. I was engaged in the interests of another kingdom. We had to walk nearly two hundred miles through a difficult country somewhat infested with wild beasts before we reached our destination. Tete is the head-quarters of the slave trade, and I took with me several men who had been rescued by myself and friends from the slave dealers as they were being taken to Tete; and never have I had a greater proof of confidence than that given by those men, who with full knowledge of the character of the men of Tete, volunteered to accompany me. When we came in sight of the town we halted to make ourselves presentable to the inhabitants of so important a place, and to my surprise and amusement my native allies arrayed themselves in calico trowsers which they had made on the road. Now I know there is no essential connection between Christianity and trow sers, and nobody but a fool would think there was, but in that part of the world there is between trowsers and freedom. No slave is permitted to wear trowsers by the Portuguese, and when my men entered Tete with us they proclaimed themselves free men by their nether garments. My friend had been to Tete before, and upon a trying emergency had received much kindness from a merchant there; for frequently you find in these Portuguese great generosity existing with an utter absence of principle; and to this man's house our steps were directed. We were made welcome, and not having room for us in his own home, he assigned to our use an empty house of which he was the

owner.

Tete is situated on the south bank of the Zambezi, and is backed by Mount Caroera, a hill of sandstone, destitute of all vegetation, and about 3000 feet high. The houses are large, well built, and of stone. The fortifications are contemptible. The soil in the town and about the town is brown and barren of verdure; but cattle were feeding upon the stunted herbage by the river side. The Tete merchants gen

erally come from Goa, or are the descendants of Goa men. As a rule they have but little capital, and they make desperate ventures to realize a fortune. Sometimes they succeed, more frequently they fail. One man was pointed out to me who had become an infidel because Providence had not favored his attempts to get rich. For a time all went well with him. Ivory was gained and found a profitable market, slaves were obtained for little and disposed of for much. Then he gathered his strength for a crowning effort, and visions of ease and plenty in Europe delighted him. He ventured all he had in the world, and more, for he borrowed money from his friends. He took with him an army of retainers, and plunged into the interior. For a time all went well with him, but success made him imprudent; he plundered where he might have bought, he seized with violence men, women, and children, where he might have had them in barter; and when he was returning laden with spoil, he found his way barred by the hostility of the natives he had made his enemies. In the conflicts which ensued he lost all his booty, his slaves and retainers were killed or dispersed, and he hardly escaped with his own life. He returned to Tete a ruined man, sick and wounded, and in disgust with Providence renounced Christianity, and with other fools said in his heart, "There, is no God."

Tete is a garrison town, and the soldiers were of three classes-natives, Europeans who are convicts, and Europeans of good character. The officers were Europeans, and, for the most part, gentlemen.

There were but two or three European women at Tete-the wife of the governor, and the wives of one or two of the soldiers. The half-caste women were more numerous, and bore a bad reputation.

The governor of Tete was not popular; he was a reformer, and too much of a gentleman for the majority of the inhabitants. He enforced law, and made nefarious practices difficult, and he was hated accordingly. Hatred begets the desire for revenge, and in revenge for being compelled to act justly, one merchant swore he would seduce the governor's daughter, and nearly succeeded in doing so. Altogether, his position was a very unenviable one, for a more reprobate set of desperados

than the generality of the Tete people it would be difficult to find.

The last incident of my life at Tete it is difficult to forget. We were to commence the return journey on the morrow. I gave my men a goat in order that they might feast with the friends they had made. They feasted in the yard at the back of the house we occupied. I had dined with the governor that night, and on returning to our house found my men in a state of indignation. The cause was this: They had invited a boy who fetched them water to partake of their good cheer. He was the slave of a peddling huckster in the place, who, hearing of what his slave was doing, came to the house and caught him in the act of eating a piece of meat. He seized him by the throat, and nearly strangled him; he beat him about the head and face until he was not recognizable; he threw him down and jumped upon him; and wherefore? Because he had dared to eat animal food. Said he when he went away, after throwing the child apparently lifeless into a corner of the yard, "I told him not to eat meat. He shall not eat meat. Meat makes the creatures proud."

The child revived, and so far recovered during the night as to be able to be removed. And some of my men took him across the river, placed him in hiding, picked him up next day, and brought him on with us; but, being too injured to walk at once, they made a rough kind of palanquin, in which they helped him forward.

The time came for me to leave Africa, and I was again at the mouth of the Zambezi, where a ship was expected to take off any Englishmen who were ready for departure. For weeks I watched for this ship, less anxious for myself than for a friend with me, who was all but dead with fever. The ship came, and my friend's delight when from my shoulders he saw it approach was excessive; but, not seeing our signal, she sent in no boat, and then his heart was nearly broken as he beheld her sail away again. To give him a chance of life I resolved to take him up the Zambezi again as far as Mazaro, a distance of a hundred miles, and from thence, by way of the Naquaqu river, proceed to Quillimane, where I hoped to find some vessel which would convey us to some port more within hail of English ships than the Zambezi. We had been the guests of Senhor

A—. He helped us in every way he could, and, finding that I had no money, forced upon me 30%. out of 50% of pay he had just received. I was able to return it before I left Quillimane, and with it letters of introduction to friends, in case he should ever try to leave his wretched life in Africa, and wanted the opportunity to make a fresh and a better start in England. Poor fellow! my hopes for him were not realized, for soon after I left he was removed to Mozambique, where he died.

The general appearance of Quillimane is far from displeasing. The houses are backed or surrounded by gardens, in which are orange and other trees; and groves of cocoa-nut palms judiciously planted give to the whole place that peculiar charm which that tree alone imparts. Yet upon all there seems the spirit of ruin and decay. Everywhere you see symptoms of that deterioration of character, that indifference to honest, manly pursuits, which is invariably associated with slavery. Of the past of this place, it were scarcely possible to speak; it has had terrible antecedents. Outwardly, however, the present life of Quillimane seems less obnoxious than I had been led to expect. There are several respectable families in the town. and they are sufficiently influential to give tone to the rest. I became acquainted with the priests; they were men of very inferior capacity, and from what I saw of them I had no difficulty in believing with Senhor A, that virtuous precept from their mouths would be sheer mockery.

A small ship which traded between Quillimane and Mozambique was almost ready for sailing when we arrived. We took passages in her, as at Mozambique it was almost certain that we should soon fall in with one of the British cruisers. We slept on board the night before she sailed, and early in the morning four soldiers, accompanied by a civilian who used an umbrella to shield his person from the rays of the rising sun, brought down a slave to the whipping-post, which was not far from our moorings. After binding him to the post the soldiers, two on and two off, as they tired, beat him with rods made of hippopotamus hide, a single blow from which seems almost sufficient to ruin an ordinary muscle. I counted more than five hundred stripes, and then, "He is dead," was the careless comment of one of the passengers

standing beside me. He may have been, I do not know: I daresay he was, for this passenger was doubtless a good judge of such matters; but I do know that as I looked on I thought,-what a good thing it would be to send the master (the man with the umbrella) as well as the slave to meet at one and the same moment the consequences of their acts in the regions of eternity. And I felt angry, God forgive me! that I could not take this act of vengeance upon myself.

I came to Mozambique with every disposition to think favorably of it. For twenty days we had knocked about the Mozambique channel in a dirty little ship filled with dirty men, whose minds and habits were as foul as their persons. I had been compelled to endure bad food and worse accommodation; for having to choose between a pestiferous berth below, in company with men who excited nausea to look at them, and a corner of the deck where I might sleep like a dog in a kennel, I chose the latter. I longed for land, and with it release from my vile imprisonment; and when we sighted Mozambique I rejoiced greatly. Mozambique certainly is the most important monument of the bygone glory of the Portuguese in Eastern. Africa, and as you approach it from the sea it still seems invested with an atmosphere of grandeur. But "'tis distance lends enchantment to the view," for the Portuguese neglect drainage, and it is impossible to regard as beautiful any place or thing from whence proceed the most abominable odors. There is at Mosambique a semblance of power and an affectation of commercial energy. But considering the advantages of its position, the many years it has been in the possession of the Portuguese, and the monopoly of trade which they have jealously held, the result is most contemptible. The export of slaves being illegal, one source of profit is lost to the people of Mozambique, yet instead of exerting themselves to develop the revenues of the mainland, one of the richest and, might be, most productive districts of this part of Africa, and to the furtherance of a legitimate trade, they scheme to evade the law, to keep up an illicit commerce in human beings, and will risk life and fortune in this not frequently profitable traffic; for it is rarely that a cargo of slaves from Portuguese territory escapes the vigilance of our cruisers. When I was at Mo

zambique four large Spanish ships were off the coast, nominally for rice, in reality for slaves, which were ready for shipment at various stations; but so closely were they watched by our ships that they not only failed to secure their cargoes, but two of them were seized on suspicion of being slavers, and were condemned as such. I do not venture to tax the Portuguese officials with connivance in these cases, yet I have heard it said repeatedly by men who were avowedly interested in such ventures, that without their connivance the trade would be absolutely impossible; and without the bribes which they receive on such occasions it would be impossible for them to acquire the wealth with which they are frequently known to retire from office.

We had not been at Mozambique long before a man-of-war came into port, the captain of which received us on board; and never felt I more proud of my nationality than when first I stood on the deck of that ship.

As Mozambique faded from my view I thought what a gain it would be to the cause of humanity if the Portuguese in Africa could be suddenly blotted from existence; even though no other civilized power occupied their places for centuries to come. That they can for long maintain their present position seems very improbable. Since I was there they have lost much territory and prestige. Bonga, a native chief, and the son of a man who once sacked Tete but was himself afterwards defeated, has improved upon his father's proceedings, and has utterly destroyed Tete and all other Portuguese establishments thereabouts. In vain have troops in great numbers been sent from Europe to recover the position, all attempts to do so have failed, the Portuguese have been again and again ignominiously beaten. They now hold nothing but their places on the coast; but from Quillimane they may be driven any day by the Landeens; and so contemptible are their defences elsewhere that the crew of a single British man-of-war would be amply sufficient to dislodge them from every other position.

I saw in the papers lately an announcement that the Portuguese were making a road to the diamond diggings from Inhambane, in the hope of drawing trade to that place. The country about Inhambane has great capacity, cotton might be grown there to any extent, and many other things also that are in general demand and fetch high

narration could give pain; and they may, for that reason, be briefly stated here.

Charles was the youngest of three children, two boys and a girl, who formed the family of John Lamb and Elizabeth his wife. The elder son, named John like his father, was twelve years, the sister Mary ten years, older than Charles. Between these two latter a tender affection subsisted. Mary bestowed almost maternal care upon the weakling brother so much her junior.

The father had been for many years clerk to Mr. Samuel Salt, barrister and bencher of the Inner Temple, from whom when he retired from his service (being then almost imbecile) he received a small pension. The elder brother, John, had a "comfortable" post in the South Sea House. Charles on leaving school obtain ed some trifling employment in the South Sea House also; but in the year 1792, when he was seventeen years old, he entered the service of the East India Company as clerk in the Accountant's Office. He lived at this time with his father, his invalid mother, his sister, and an old aunt, who possessed a trifling annuity which she clubbed into the common store.

Three years later a horror befell him and his, whose shadow darkened the remainder of his life. There was a taint of hereditary madness in the family, and this baleful heritage suddenly burst forth in the gentle, unselfish, sensible, Mary Lamb; a woman of whom Hazlitt is reported to have said that she was the most rational and the wisest woman he had ever known.

One day in a fit of maniacal frenzy she stabbed her bed-ridden mother to the heart.

Let us try to conceive the condition of that household; the imbecile father-he too wounded in his daughter's blind fury -the unconscious maniac, the poor murdered corpse of the beloved mother lying almost unheeded, whilst the crushing weight of care and responsibility in this most appalling situation lay upon a sensitive, feeble youth of little more than twenty years old!

Feeble in body was Charles Lamb; but a more heroic heart than his never beat. He took up his burthen then and there, and he carried it to his grave. He carried it not repining, but lovingly, tenderly, as a mother supports her child in arms to which love lone lends strength.

From that black day to the end Mary Lamb owed every hour of peace or cheerfulness which fell to her lot to her brother Charles. He bestowed them upon her as literally as if the minutes had been minted coin dropped from his hand into hers.

At the inquest on Mrs. Lamb's body, a verdict of Mary's lunacy was returned. She was removed to an asylum, where in a short time she recovered her senses. Other members of the family-notably the elder brother John, who seems not to have contributed in any way to the support of his helpless father and sister-strenuously opposed her being at large again. She herself said at this time that she knew she must go to Bethlehem Hospital for life. One brother would have it so, and the other, although he did not wish it, would be forced to go with the stream.

But it proved not so. She had not reckoned on the sublime devotion of her brother Charles. How should she have done so? We have no right to count upon finding heroes, even among those we best love and honor. But this man, this poor, sickly, obscure, London clerk, was a hero than whom I think history has none nobler to show. He took Mary to his poor home, and until he died she lived with him, sharing the shelter of his roof and faring as he fared.

She was perpetually subject to recurrences of her dreadful malady. When the mad fit announced its approach by certain symptoms they had learned to know, the brother and sister would walk forth together, weeping together, shedding such tears as it wrings the heart to think of, to Hoxton Asylum, and there the afflicted woman would be left until the calm light of reason returned to her suffering brain. This endured all the rest of Lamb's life. There was no cure, no hope. This frightful apprehension sat with him at his board, and coiled beside him in his bed. Andhe loved his sister dearly to the end.

He has no word but of fondness and gratitude for her. She is his best friend and sister. He dedicates his first published work to her. He writes of her to his closest friends in terms of mingled fraternal and filial affection. He disentangles the tragic deed to which her madness, not her will, consented, from the true, unselfish, gentle, loving heart of Mary, who when her reason was unclouded had ever been the best of daughters and of sisters.

michia might arise ending in the victory of the mice, and the utter extermination of the croakers; for hardly had I got to bed, hoping for a good night's rest, than there arose from the neighboring paddy-fields such a chorus of brekekekex koax koax, as has not been heard since the days of Aristophanes. The night long they sang their hideous song, banishing sleep: sometimes indeed there would come a sudden lull, bringing hope with it; but hardly had the heavy eyelids time to close before some deep-voiced, hoarse presentor would lead off again, the whole choir following one by one, until it seemed as if every frog that had ever been a tadpole had been summoned to take part in the concert. Until the first dawn of day they went on with what I remember to have seen in some old book is a serenade of love from the males to the females; with the dawn they rested, and so did I.

October 10.-Whilst my people were packing up, paying the reckoning, and making ready for a start, I wandered into the yard of the handsome temple opposite the inn. On one of the stone lanterns were graven the two Chinese characters Shên Tien-God's Field. What an exact reproduction of our expression "God's Acre!" That the daily wants of mankind should have produced such tools as the saw, the plane, the chisel, the plumb-line, and a thousand others, all the world over, seems natural enough: but it is astounding to find how the minds of men have hit upon the same expressions of thought. Almost all the proverbs of China and Japan have their fellows in our European languages, while some are identically the same; such as Walls have ears;" "Birds of a feather flock together;" "Talk of a man and you will cause his shadow to appear;" "Silence is better than speech;" besides many more. Here in this Ultima Thule is "God's Acre."

A nipping and an eager air blowing over the mountains in our faces reminds us how fast the year is waning, and it is so chilly that we are glad to dismount and walk, in order to keep ourselves warm. But the rays of a scorching sun soon disperse the delicious crispness of early morning, and drive us to take shelter under the fragrant shade of the grand old pines and furs which border this portion of the highroad.

Journeying on in a westerly direction,

we soon arrive at the little village of Nango, beyond which a sharp turn of the road brings us upon one of the views most esteemed by Japanese landscape-painters. The highway follows such a straight line that Mount Fuji appears almost always on the right hand of the westward-bound traveler. Here is one of the rare exceptions to the rule: the Peerless mountain rises on his left, its glorious cone towering above the rugged outline of the Hakoné range, and the wilds of Mount Oyama, dark, gloomy, and lowering, a sacred haunt long guarded jealously from the profanation of a foreigner's foot. Among yonder mysterious glens, crags, and gorges is the home of the Tengu or Dog of Heaven, a hideous elf, long-clawed, long-beaked, winged, loving solitude; terror of naughty children who refuse to go to sleep at the word of command, or are guilty of other infantine crimes: altogether an uncanny hobgoblin: and should you, losing your way among the hills, find its nest, which is built in the highest trees, go your way and disturb it not, lest some foul evil should overtake you. The enchanting scenes of this day's journey, which change and bring fresh charms before the eye at every turn in the road, would alone repay the pilgrim for the trouble of his expedition, and he will understand how superstition has peopled haunts more beautiful, more wild and more lonely than usual with a race of fairies and demons fairer or more terrible than the children of men.

A glance at the map of Japan will show that, the watershed being so close to the sea, it is impossible that there should be any rivers of importance; indeed, there are very few that are navigable even to junks and steam-launches, and most of those are guarded by dangerous and almost impassible bars.* Here the rivers are mere mountain torrents, rising rapidly and wickedly, to use a Scotch fisherman's expression, and in the absence of bridges, often putting a stop to all communication. The little river Sagami, which we presently have to cross, is in full spate; luckily, however, it is not yet so swollen as to stop our progress. At this point it is called Banin

*The bars at the mouths of the rivers at Osaka and Niigata have been frequently fatal to the lives and merchandise of foreigners. It was in crossing the bar at Osaka that the American Admiral Bell was lost, with his flag-lieutenant and all his boat's crew, in the month of January, 1868.