window-panes, and sigh until our breath dims the clear glass, and the prospect is confused, and we are doubly shut in,—prisoners to the natural boundaries, and prisoners to the breathings of our own impatience. The imaginations that were given us to bring heaven down, we use in making the worst of this world. We walk upon the shadow of hills, and pant like climbers. We sigh so loud, that we frighten the nightingale from singing. We take the name of holy grief in vain ; for holy it is, because sacred to Him by whose grief came all our good. We are too ready with our complaints. Not seeing the meaning that runs through all life's noises, we often murmur, Where is the measured music, the certain central tune? while the angels may be leaning down from their golden thrones to catch it and smile, and whisper, How sweet it is! We are sent on earth to toil; to wrestle, not to reign; to be patient with our own troubles, and ready to speak a word of cheer to others who suffer.

'The least flower with a brimming cup may stand,
And share its dewdrop with another near.'

It is this ground we choose for parting, because, if we ever meet again, it will be here.

The poetess is gone. Her work is finished, however unfinished the works may be. Undoubtedly they but faintly shadowed forth the magnificent soul that dwelt awhile in the weak womanly form, as we judge by the efforts she made to get expression for what was labouring within her. Yet we are grateful for all that has been left to us by this most glorious amongst poetesses, lofty amongst women, and, we doubt not, most blessed among happy spirits. And we rejoice in the belief that such a soul yet lives to unfold all its forces in other ways, and reach nobler successes than were possible for it here.

'Nor blame we death, because he bare

The use of virtue out of earth,

Who know transplanted human worth
Will bloom to profit otherwhere.'

And whether we sit summing up the poet's work on earth or silence guard her fame, we know,

'That somewhere out of human view,
Whate'er her hands are set to do,

Is wrought with triumph of acclaim.'

ART. X.-1. Report on Colonial Military Expenditure. Parliamentary Proceedings. 1861.

2. Colonization and Colonies. Lectures. By HERMAN MERI

THE value of our Colonial empire, and the principles which ought to govern its relations to the mother country, are subjects which have lately been brought prominently before the public mind. The Parliamentary blue book on the military cost of our colonies, the republication of Mr Merivale's lectures, Mr Goldwin Smith's wild letter in the Daily News, the New Zealand war, and the recent transmission of several regiments to Canada in the depth of winter, to meet an apprehended rupture with the United States, have concurred to direct our attention with unusual vividness to these and a number of cognate questions; and the result has been a singular degree of perplexity and confusion in the national sentiments. Old axioms have been audaciously assailed; old ideas have been ruthlessly and rudely shaken; universally received doctrines, which had become almost sacred from age and privileged immunity, have been pronounced mere baseless assumptions; the faith of many in their ancestral creed has been utterly upset; and many more, while still refusing to surrender it, find themselves unable to justify or to expound it. We had been brought up to boast of our empire on which the sun never sets; to feel proud of our forty dependencies; to regard them as the richest gem in our national treasure, the brightest jewel in our monarch's diadem: our fathers had fought to obtain them; our brothers had gone out to found them and to people them; we fancied they poured boundless wealth into our coffers; we knew that foreign powers looked on them with envy ;—and now we are told by professors of history and political economists, who ought to know what they are about, and to mind what they say,'that all this is a delusion; that these colonies are a source of endless embarrassment and terrible expense; that we should be better without them, and that they would be better without us; that we ought neither to control them in peace, nor defend them in war; and that, far from endeavouring to retain them in our allegiance if they wish to separate, we should hasten by every means in our power, and welcome with the utmost alacrity, the auspicious day of their emancipation. Some of these doctrines are by no means new, but they are all very startling, and are fast descending from the region of mere speculation into that of practical life and action. Some of them, too, contain so much indisputable truth, and ap

pear to follow so logically from admitted theories and facts, yet are so unwelcome, and eminent authorities are so divided in respect to them, that the bothered Englishman stands aghast at the conflict of opinions, and cannot tell what to think or what to do. Let us see if we can contribute any gleam of light or order to the seeming chaos.

It must be avowed at the outset, that the entire set of circumstances, and the entire course of action on which our former estimate of the value of our colonial dependencies was based, have been effectually upset by the new system of commercial policy which this country has now definitively and irreversibly adopted. Formerly we conquered colonies, or sent out emigrants to found them, with the double design of adding to our power and greatness, by extending our dominions and increasing the amount of territory peopled by Englishmen and held by England, and of multiplying at once customers for manufactures which we wanted to sell, and producers of the materials which we wanted to buy. Our fundamental notion of colonists was that of customers who could not escape us, and growers who must trade with us alone. We guarded their commerce with the most jealous and severe restrictions. We did not even allow them to trade directly with each other, much less with foreign countries. They were compelled to buy everything they wanted from us, and to send to our markets everything they produced. In return, we gave them the monopoly of our markets, or at least the most partial and efficient advantages in the supply of them. Our strict navigation laws perfected this close system, which was thorough, harmonious, and self-consistent, however short-sighted and unwise. As long as we pursued it, every fresh addition to our colonial territory and population added to the number of secured purchasers of our manufactured goods, who could afford to purchase largely and to pay liberally, because their own industry was applied to a productive soil, and was certain of a good

market.

We looked to the colonies for another benefit. They relieved us of our surplus population. As our numbers multiplied here beyond the demand for their labour, and threatened to become, as paupers, a heavy burden on the resources of our wealth and industry, we were enabled to send them across the Atlantic or to the Antipodes, where we could offer them the attractions of land for nothing, and of still living under English laws and English protection, and, to a great extent, with the comfort of English customs and associations. Probably, from first to last, we have thus sent out nearly five millions of our countrymen. Certainly, in the last fifteen years, we have sent out three millions and a half.

Altered views as to our Colonies.

537

Again, we set great store by our colonies for a third reason. We used them not merely as a fertile estate, on which to settle our redundant population as free emigrants; we used them largely as a receptacle for our convicts. Thousands of criminals, whom we did not like to hang, whom we could not reform, and whom we could not afford to keep incessantly in prison, we were delighted to disgorge on to distant colonial shores, where they were a sort of slaves-persons held to labour,' according to the American euphemism for such things. The colonists, too, were equally delighted to receive them. In the infancy of States, material considerations outweigh moral ones: the latter, in fact, are scarcely thought of; and the early settlers found in the convicts assigned to them precisely what was indispensable, viz., a supply of labour at once cheap and secure. It is undeniable that the forced labour of our exported criminals laid the foundation for the prosperity of the Australian colonies, just as negro labour (and occasionally convict labour too) aided the early development of the American colonies, both of this country and of Spain.

Lastly, our colonies, scattered over all quarters of the globe, afforded secure harbours where our ships could take refuge and refit and supply their wants, in case of disasters by war or casualties at sea.

All this is now changed: nearly all these objects have been foregone; nearly all those advantages have been surrendered or superseded. Our colonists are now free to trade with all the world; they have no longer any privileges or preferences in our markets; the sugar of Cuba is as welcome to us as the sugar of Jamaica, and is admitted on the same terms. We give colonial produce no advantage here; we ask for British produce no advantage in the colonies. We scarcely interfere at all with their fiscal legislation; they may impose almost any import duties they please upon our manufactures for purposes of revenue, provided they keep clear of differential duties. Canada is just as much at liberty in this respect as the United States. As a matter of fact, the Colonial Legislatures do, nearly all of them, impose such customs duties; and, unless in some very monstrous case, we never interfere. There is nothing now, except their own interest, to hinder our colonies from getting all their imports from foreign countries, and sending all their produce to foreign countries. Nay, more; we exercise almost as little control over their internal as over their fiscal legislation. Nearly every one of our colonies, properly so called, is now permitted practically to pass any laws, and do any executive act it may choose, subject only to advice and occasional suspensive disallowance in case of some manifest wrong or folly, or some

pear to follow so logically from admitted theories and facts, yet are so unwelcome, and eminent authorities are so divided in respect to them, that the bothered Englishman stands aghast at the conflict of opinions, and cannot tell what to think or what to do. Let us see if we can contribute any gleam of light or order to the seeming chaos.

It must be avowed at the outset, that the entire set of circumstances, and the entire course of action on which our former estimate of the value of our colonial dependencies was based, have been effectually upset by the new system of commercial policy which this country has now definitively and irreversibly adopted. Formerly we conquered colonies, or sent out emigrants to found them, with the double design of adding to our power and greatness, by extending our dominions and increasing the amount of territory peopled by Englishmen and held by England, and of multiplying at once customers for manufactures which we wanted to sell, and producers of the materials which we wanted to buy. Our fundamental notion of colonists was that of customers who could not escape us, and growers who must trade with us alone. We guarded their commerce with the most jealous and severe restrictions. We did not even allow them to trade directly with each other, much less with foreign countries. They were compelled to buy everything they wanted from us, and to send to our markets everything they produced. In return, we gave them the monopoly of our markets, or at least the most partial and efficient advantages in the supply of them. Our strict navigation laws perfected this close system, which was thorough, harmonious, and self-consistent, however short-sighted and unwise. As long as we pursued it, every fresh addition to our colonial territory and population added to the number of secured purchasers of our manufactured goods, who could afford to pur chase largely and to pay liberally, because their own indu was applied to a producti market.

We looked to the colon us of our surplus populati beyond the demand for t as paupers, a heavy burd industry, we were enal to the Antipodes, wh of land for nothing, an English protection, a English customs an we have thus sent Certainly, in the la lions and a half.