some of us, having fought our way into the town, were cut off from our main body, and could not get back until after dark. On reaching my tent I discovered that the flap had been opened, and as I groped my way in Juan jumped upon me, and in his delight devoured my hand with kisses. I found the match-box, and having struck a light, the first thing that attracted my attention was Morton's uniform and the sword he had disgraced lying on his bed. His portmanteau was open, and from the disorder it was in, I guessed that he had hurriedly changed his regimentals for mufti. I released Juan from his long captivity, and then went and made inquiries about his master; but no one knew anything of him, except that he had disappeared as soon as we got under fire, and the few men left in charge of the camp had never seen him enter it. He was gone, and I alone of his companions in arms ever looked upon his face again.

I was sitting at the window of my club, one day in June, some years after the war had ended, listlessly gazing at the gay, careless world that moved up and down St. James's-street, when the waiter handed me a letter. I held it in my hand for some short time before taking the trouble to look at the envelope; but when I did, great was my surprise, for at a glance I recognised Morton's handwriting. A feeling of nervousness came over me as I tore it open; I was certain that I was about to read bad news, and my presentiment was true, for though there were but a few words, they ran thus:

"Come, dear Frank, and see me, and come quickly, for I am dying.

I startled a hansom cabman, who, in spite of a strong desire to earn an honest livelihood, had all but succumbed to the somnolent influence of a hot sun, by rushing into his cab, and bidding him drive as hard as he could lay legs to the ground to the address Morton had given me.

I was soon there; and on the staircase I met a gentleman descending, whom I rightly guessed to be the doctor, and of him I inquired what ailed his patient.

"Dying," was the laconic reply; and the medicine-man I perceived was in a hurry. Time and fees were paramount with him. "But what of?" I continued, barring the way.

"Rapid consumption, aided by hard drinking." shrugged his shoulders and passed on.

And he

I tapped gently at the door, and a weak voice bid me enter the darkened room, and as I did so a dreadful hollow cough endorsed the words the guinea-loving man had just uttered.

"Yes, Frank, I am changed," Morton said, as he held my hand,

for I started back involuntarily on beholding the wreck that lay before me, propped up by pillows.

"Are you very, very ill, Henry?" I asked, when I could command my voice.

"Going fast out with the tide, old man," he said, " and if you only knew how I am looking forward to the end, you would not wish it to flow again."

I was making some remark about looking more hopefully forward, that perhaps matters were not in so sad a plight as he thought them, when he interrupted me by saying, sadly:

"Ah, Frank, I would not live if I could, for since I saw you last I have led too dreadful an existence. You cannot imagine what the misery is of feeling yourself a pariah among men."

He then went on to relate to me, between violent fits of coughing, which put him to exquisite pain, how he had shunned kith and kin, keeping the knowledge of where he was so strictly, that no one save his lawyer knew where to find him, and how, to drown the remorse which haunted him night and day, he had taken to excessive drinking, which had accelerated with fearful haste the disease that was killing him.

"But I wanted to see one kind face before I died," he added, so I wrote to you."

I rarely ever left his bedside, and at Morton's request brought with me another friend, Juan. The reader may prove incredulous, but I firmly believe the dog knew his old master again, for on the second day I was called out of the room, and Juan, who was curled up into a white ball at the foot of the bed, never offered to follow me, or showed the slightest uneasiness at my departure; not that he was asleep, for his eyes were wide open, and his tail was wagging.

But the end came soon, and in the old, old fashion. I was sitting in a chair near his bed reading, thinking the while that he was fast asleep, for he had neither moved nor spoken for some time; but when the clock on the mantelpiece struck the midnight hour, I found that I had erred, for Morton whispered to me, in a voice so weak that I could scarcely catch the words:

"Twelve o'clock has passed, and another 18th of June come round, but on this one, Frank, I shall face death, and not run away.'

The alteration in his voice alarmed me so much that I wanted to send for the doctor, but he beseeched me not to do so."

Nothing except the ticking of the clock and Morton's heavy breathing broke the stillness of the room, for he lay quite still and did not speak, and I was afraid to disturb him. Oh, how Sept.-VOL. II. NO. IX.

long did the hours take to come and go, from twelve till one, one till two, and two till three. But at last the day began to break, and one faint streak crept in between the curtains. Poor fellow, he saw it too, for he murmured:

"Frank, let in the light, for I should like to see it once more." I pushed back the curtains, and opened the window to let the fresh morning air in, and soon the sun began to gild the tops of the chimneys on the other side of the street, until at last one single ray found its way in and stole across the floor, and mounting the bed, at last lay across the cheek of the dying man.

It was then that he placed his arm around my neck, and drawing me close to him, whispered:

"Dear, dear Frank, for all your past kindness to me, may your life be as bright as this ray."

I could bear up no longer, and laying my head upon his shoulder, I wept like a child, and as my tears fell the tide of his sad life ebbed from him, to flow again, I trust, with God's mercy, for ever in eternity.

A CALL TO THE SEA-SHORE.

BY NICHOLAS MICHELL.

FROM lips of spray, with breezy breath,
The wild, free Ocean loudly calleth;
Dwellers in cities rich and old,

Where Toil's hard hammer ever falleth;
Where dust, heat, noise, oppress the brain,
And soul too often blindly crawleth—
Oh, quit your dingy haunts awhile,
And drink his balm, and hail his smile!
Votaries of Pleasure! jaded, worn,

In crowded halls by nightly dances;
Or dazzled with the glittering stage,
The too long play of beauty's glances;
Or tired of fashion's blinding world,

Its ceaseless struggles, countless fancies-
Oh, quit your brilliant haunts awhile,
Drink Ocean's balm, and hail his smile!

Grey age, whose blood runs low and weak,

Find strength beside the wave's fresh dashing! Children, go, sport on golden sands,

Amidst the silver bubbles splashing;

Poor sick one, fainting in hot towns,

Your eyes shall here win back their flashingOh, quit old scenes a little while,

Drink Ocean's balm, and hail his smile!

Ye Beauties, delicate and fair,

Your cheeks too much the lily showing! Haste to the sea, quaff briny gales,

And soon fresh roses shall be blowing; That crystal bath is pure and cool,

Vigour on languor still bestowing; Ocean feels proud to buoy fair limbs, And toss and play while Beauty swims.

Philosophers and students pale,

Awhile your troubled thoughts forgetting, Go, wander by the calming waves,

At breezy morn and soft sun-setting: Ocean to you will dream and talk,

His waves against the pebbles fretting; Or he will dash, by glad winds driven, To lift your fancies up to Heaven.

All to the feast of billows go,

An hour forgetting life's dull story! Ocean is Nature's great High Priest,

More grand than vales or mountains hoary;

Though seeming fearful, earth he loves,

Bearing young Health, and crowned with glory.

Then toilers! thinkers! haste awhile,

And drink his balm, and hail his smile.

NOTES OF THE MONTH.

DR. LIVINGSTONE'S DISCOVERIES.

THE letters received from Dr. Livingstone by the Foreign Office and the American papers, enable us to say a word or two upon the geographical discoveries made by the distinguished traveller with greater precision than heretofore. The watershed of South Central Africa is, he says, over seven hundred miles in length. The fountains thereon are almost innumerable. These converge into two mighty streams in the great Nile Valley, which begins in ten deg. to twelve deg. south latitude.

This is precisely in continuation of the discoveries effected by the great explorer in his last journey, when arrived at the head of Lake Nyassa in about twelve deg. south latitude, in what he then called the Kirk or Maravi Hills, he learnt that the Moi-tawa was the main feeder of Lake Bemba, and that the Luapula flowed out of it westward, opening into Lake Moero and Lake Mofue before passing Cazembe's town, only at that time, he added, it bent to the north and entered Lake Tanganyika (p. 531). Such being the case, it depended upon whether the latter lake flowed into the Albert Nyanza or not, as we pointed out at the time, if this said Moi-tawa was, or was not, one of the most remote feeders of the Nile.

According to Livingstone's later researches, after exploring six hundred miles of the watershed, he is inclined to believe the seventh hundred to be the most interesting of the whole, for in it, if he is not mistaken, four fountains arise from an "earthen" mound, and each of the four becomes, at no great distance off, a large river. This, should it prove to be the case, is, with all due deference to the great explorer, as much like the river that flowed out of the Garden of Eden as the sources heard of by Herodotus, which were situate between Syene and Elephantis.*

Two of these rivers run north to Egypt, the Lufira, or Bartle

*Were it not for this peculiar statement of the registrar of Minerva's treasury at Sais, that the sources of the Nile flowed from between two peaked mountains situate between the city of Syene in Thebais and Elephantine, the theory which identifies Crophi with Koshi, and Mophi with Madi, at the issue of the White Nile from the Albert Nyanza, would be the most acceptable explanation yet given of this well-known statement of Herodotus. That the sources of the Nile are bottomless before flowing through these mountains is much better explained by their having their origin from a great lake of unknown depth than from fountains supposed to gush forth from an earthen mound, even from an unfathomable depth.