been cleared away, and that “The Sanatorium” consists only of a cabin with a single room divided into two, and elevated on posts like a Malay house. The deep verandah which surrounds it is reached by a step-ladder. A smaller house could hardly be, or a more picturesque one, from the steepness and irregularity of its roof. The cook-house is a small attap shed in a place cut into the hill, and an enclosure of attap screens with a barrel in it. Under the house is the bathroom. The edge of the hill, from which a few trees have been cleared, is so steep that but for a bamboo rail one might slip over upon the tree-tops below. Some Liberian coffee shrubs, some tea, cinchona, and ipecacuanha, and some heartless English cabbages, are being attempted on the hillside, and the Resident hopes that the State will have a great future of coffee.

The view in all directions was beautiful: to the north a sea of densely wooded mountains with indigo shadows in their hollows; to the south the country we had threaded on the Linggi river, forests, and small tapioca clearings, little valley's where rice is growing, and scars where tin-mining is going on; the capital, the little town of Serambang, with its larger clearings, and to the west the gleam of the shining sea. In the absence of mosquitos we were able to sit out till after dark, a rare luxury. There was a gorgeous sunset of the

gory, furnace kind, which one only sees in the tropicswaves of violet light rolling up over the mainland, and the low Sumatran coast looking like a purple cloud amidst the fiery haze.

Dinner was well cooked and served with coffee after it, just as at home. The primitive bathroom was made useable by our eleven servants and chairbearers being sent to the hill, where the two gentlemen mounted guard over them. After dark the Chinamen made the largest bonfire I ever saw, or at all events the most brilliant, with trunks of trees and pieces of gum damar several pounds in weight, which they obtained by digging, and this was kept up till daylight, throwing its splendid glare over the whole hill-top, lighting up the forest and bringing the cabin out in all its picturesqueness.

When it grew dark, tiny lamps began to move in all directions. Some came from on high, like falling stars, but most moved among the trees a few feet from the ground with a slow undulatory motion, the fire having a pale blue tinge, as one imagines an incandescent sapphire might have. The great tree-crickets kept up for a time the most ludicrous sound I ever heard-one sitting in a tree and calling to another. From the deafening noise which at times drowned our voices, one would suppose the creature making it to be at least as large as an eagle.

The accommodation of the “Sanatorium” is most limited. The two gentlemen, well armed, slept in the verandah, the two Miss Shaws in camp beds in the inner cabin, and I in a swinging cot in the outer, the table being removed to make room for it. The bulldog mounted guard over all, and showed his vigilance by an occasional growl. The eleven attendants stowed themselves away under the cabin, except a garrulous couple,

who kept the fire blazing till daylight. My cot was most comfortable, but I failed to sleep. The forest was full of quaint, busy noises, broken in upon occasionally by the hoot of the “spectre bird,” and the long, low, plaintive cry of some animal.

All the white residents in the Malacca Settlements have been greatly excited about a tragedy which has just occurred at the Dindings, off this coast, in which Mr. Lloyd, the British official, was horribly murdered by the Chinese, his wife, and Mrs. Innes, who was on a visit to her, narrowly escaping the same fate. Lying awake, I could not help thinking of this, and of the ease with which the Resident could be overpowered and murdered by any of our followers who might have a grudge against him, when, as I thought, the door behind my head from the back ladder was burst open, and my cot and I came down on the floor at the head, the simple fact being that the rope, not having been properly secured, gave way with a run.

An hour afterwards the foot-ropes gave way, and I was deposited on the floor altogether, and was soon covered with small ants.

Early in the morning the apes began to call to each other with a plaintive “Hoo-houey," and in the grey dawn I saw an iguana fully four feet long glide silently down the trunk of a tree, the branches of which were loaded with epiphytes. Captain Shaw asked the imaum of one of the mosques of Malacca about alligators' eggs a few days ago, and his reply was that the young that went down to the sea became alligators, and those which came up the rivers became iguanas. At daylight, after coffee and bananas, we left the hill, and after an accident, promptly remedied by Mr. Hayward, reached Serambang when the sun was high in the heavens. I should think that there are very few circumstances which Mr. Hayward is not prepared to meet. He has a reserve of quiet strength which I should like to see fully drawn upon. He has the scar of a spear-wound on his brow, which Captain Murray says was received in holding sixty armed men at bay while he secured the retreat of some helpless persons. Yet he continues to be much burdened by his responsibility for these fair girls, who, however, are enjoying themselves thoroughly, and will be none the worse.

He had scarcely returned, when a large company of Chinamen carrying bannerets and joss-sticks came to the Residency to give a spectacle or miracle-play, the first part consisting of a representation of a huge dragon, which kicked, and jumped, and crawled, and bellowed in a manner totally unworthy of that ancient and splendid myth; and the second, of a fierce mêlée or succession of combats with spears, shields, and battle

The performances were accompanied by much drumming, and by the beating of tomtoms, an essentially infernal noise, which I cannot help associating

with the orgies of devil-worship. The Capitan China,” in a beautiful costume, sat with us in the verandah to see the performance.

I have written a great deal about the Chinese and very little about the Malays, the nominal possessors of the country, but the Chinese may be said to be everywhere, and the Malays nowhere.

axes.

THE

HOUGH the love of law differs widely from

the law of love, a man may be inspired by

the former and at the same time obedient to the latter. Popular satire has from time immemorial represented lawyers as slow to blush, and even slower to surrender themselves to the gentlest and most generous of the affections.

“ That combination strange, a lawyer and a blush,” is, however, less rare than the song-writer imagined. Though he “never blushed before ” (as he was carefulto inform the peers), Lord Cairns not long since “ blushed for his country.” And whilst they have shown themselves capable of blushing like "laymen," lawyers, with all their proverbial reputation for being crafty suitors and greedy courtiers, have loved as rashly and unselfishly as squires of .any other order.

They have also spoken and written with equal discretion and humour on the affairs of the heart. In the wisest and most whimsical of all his essays, the treatise “Of Love," Francis Bacon says,

They do best who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make it keep quarter, and sever it wholly from their serious affairs and actions of life ; for if it check once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and maketh men that they can no ways be true to their own ends,” words that may have influenced Lady Hatton in refusing their author (her brilliant cousin), and consenting to be married in a corner to his unattractive rival in the Law Courts. Sir John More (Justice of the King's Bench, and father of the Chancellor, Sir Thomas) was often heard to say,

“I would compare the multitude of women which are to be chosen for wives into a bag full of snakes, having among them a single eel; now, if a man should put his hand into this bag, he may chance to light on the eel; but it is an hundred to one he shall be stung by a snake.”

The famous son of this cynical commentary on womankind and wedlock put his hand twice into the bag-on the first occasion to pull out a goodly eel, on the second occasion to be stung by a snake —faring quite as well as he deserved, for neither of his matches was the result of love. married the eel from compassion, he mated with the snake from prudence. Bessie--the damsel with golden hair, fair cheeks, rosy lips, and eyes like stars, whose charms he celebrated in Latin hexameters and pentameters—was the exemplary Chancellor's first and only passion. But after the wont of boyish passion his youthful yearnings for Iza-brata with the golden tresses ended in disappointment. Years later, when he had ceased pining for the “bride who was another's bride," the young lawyer, acting less from natural impulse than his confessor's counsel, bethought himself that he would marry, and could not do better than

marry one of the amiable and religious daughters of Mr. John Colt, of New Hall. And having so bethought himself, Thomas was on the point of falling in love with the second and prettiest of the sisters, when he remembered how hard it would be for Jane, the eldest of the damsels, to dance barefoot at her sister's wedding Recovering himself at the last moment, he turned from the younger damsel, whom he had desired, and, “out of a kind compassion, settled his fancy on the elder” of the two. Had he followed his first inclination, he might have fared worse, and could scarcely have fared better. Dr. Johnson had occasion to remark that much may be done with a Scotchman if he be caught young. Sir Thomas More had reason to say the same of girls taken early out of East Anglia, where Jane Colt had lived in seclusion to the opening of her eighteenth year, when she missed a slight and won a husband by so curious an accident. To please the gentleman to whom she owed her preferment, Jane learnt to sing and play on the virginals, and perfected herself in other elegant arts, when a young woman of inferior docility and conscientiousness would have pleaded that her children required all her time and attention. If Thomas More lectured her now and then, he did it with a gentle seriousness that made Jane enjoy the admonition. But though this match turned out well, a young man would do ill to follow the Chancellor's example in “settling his fancy” on one of two sisters after loving the other. Trouble may come of "the self-denying ordinance.” After marriage, when brides are apt to become overcurious and bridegrooms perilously frank about antecedent circumstances, the happy couple of so singular a union may become an unhappy couple from the moment the wife discovers her husband's preference for her sister. The discovery would not be favourable to the future intercourse of the sisters. On the other hand, if no discovery is made, the husband has a secret from his wife-a thing to be deprecated in matrimony.

Jane the Gentle was succeeded by Alice the Sharp. After burying “the eel,” who lived with him only too short a term, More took in hand “the snake.” Having chosen his first wife out of compassion, he chose his second out of consideration for his children. For their good it was desirable that their stepmother should be of matronly age and capable of governing a house. In these two respects she was not deficient. But the woman of suitable years, who knew how to rule her servants, had a taste for ruling her husband also. Possibly her want of culture was an attraction to the lawyer, who, having succeeded so well in forming the mind and character of a young and ductile wife, may have anticipated

Having

pleasure in directing the studies of an older pupil. But the system, which answered so well with Jane, worked worse than indifferently with the lady who, to please her husband (seven years her junior), took lessons on the lute, the cithara, the viol, the monochord, and the flute when time had stiffened her fingers. It is not surprising that the gentlewoman, described by Erasmus as "verging on old age,” and not of a pliant temper, soon let the music go, and turned to scolding her servants—and, now and then, their master. When More seemed slow to make the most of himself to the world, the ambitious wife used to exclaim “Tillie vallie! Tillie vallie! will you sit and make goslings in the ashes ? My mother hath often said unto me, it is better to rule than be ruled.” To which familiar expostulation More's usual reply, uttered in the mildest of humorous voices, was, “Now, in truth, that is truly said, good wife; for I never found you yet willing to be ruled.” Failing to inspire her with taste for music, More failed no less egregiously to make her accept or even comprehend the principles that were to him the first elements of social morality. He could not make her understand that people should act less for their own happiness than the happiness of others, that nothing could contribute more than universal sincerity to the happiness of others, and that therefore a good man's first duty to others lay in punctilious truthfulness to himself. No woman to encourage her husband to pursue the martyr's path and win the martyr's crown, she scolded him in the Tower after this fashion: “I marvel that you, who have hitherto been always taken for a wise man, will now so play the fool as to lie here in this close, filthy prison

when you might be abroad at your liberty, with the favour and good-will both of the king and his council, if you would but do as the bishops and best learned of this realm have done; and, seeing you have at Chelsea a right fair house

where you might, in company with me, your wife, your children, and household, be merry, I muse what, in God's name, you mean here thus fondly to tarry.” A strange positionthe husband set on dying for what he deemed the truth, and the wife rating him for being such a fool!

In one of his letters to Tom Moore, Byron tells a piquant story of a learned Jew, who was remarkable, in the brilliant circles to which his learning gained him admittance, for his habit of asking questions continuously and fearlessly in order to get at the bottom of any matter in discussion. To a person who was complaining of the Prince Regent's bad treatment of his old boon companions, this habitual interrogator cried across a dinner-table, “ And why does the prince act so ?” “Because he was told so-and-so by Lord who ought to be ashamed of himself !” was the answer. “But why, sir, has the prince cut you ? ' inquired the searcher after truth. “ Because I stuck to my principles. Yes, sir, because I stuck to my principles !” replied the other, testily, thinking that his examination was ended. why did you stick to your principles ?” cried the interrogator, throwing the table into a roar of

laughter, the mirth being no more due to the inquisitor's persistence than to his inability to conceive that any man would stick to his principles simply because he believed them to be right. Mistress More, in like manner, could not account for her husband's obstinacy in holding to principles that were obviously hurtful to him.

But More's life with his second wife was one of harmony and decorum in comparison with the terms on which Sir Edward Coke and Lady Hatton: lived at Hatton Garden. Winning for his first wife, Bridget Paston, who brought him first and last £30,000 (from £ 150,000 to £180,000 of money in the present year), and rendered him every tribute of wisely reverence, the insolent advocate and superb judge had mourned for hér barely five months when, in the wrinkles of his fiftieth year, he won for his second wife the famous woman of wit and beauty, birth and riches, to whom Francis Bacon had sighed in vain. No one ever asked for the inducements which determined the lawyer, who loved money and worshipped the Cecils, to seek the hand of Burleigh's granddaughter so soon after his first wife's death. But biographers are still at a loss for the motives that decided this imperious woman to scatter the crowd of her aristocratic suitors and link herself with a man whom she certainly never loved. Notwithstanding the enormity of his wealth and the greatness of his professional income, the marriage was for a day regarded as a social elevation for the Attorney-General. Soon, however, another view was taken of the matter. Never has a greatly eminent lawyer drawn more sorrow and discredit to himself through the wedding ring. Every consequence of the union was disastrous to the man who had compassed it solely for his own aggrandisement. Delighting in the flattery of courtiersand the amusements of the court, Lady Hatton made no secret of her disdain for the unattractive and graceless lawyer, who cared only for affairs of business, and regarded elegant literature with repugnance. In the days of Anne and George i, Holt was not more miserable in the society of the wife whom Radcliffe (the Tory doctor) kept alive out of spite to the Whig Chief Justice, than Coke was in the time of James 1 in the company of the wife who found her chief delight in rendering him ridiculous. Instead of softening their animosities, the only offspring of this wretched marriage became, even in her childhood, a cause of scandalous contention between her parents. To recover the favour of the court after his fall, Coke gave this fourteen-years-old child to Sir John Villiers, a roué thrice her age; and when the marriage had been compassed, in spite of Lady Hatton's opposition, the father who had so basely sacrificed his daughter missed every farthing of the price for which he had sold her. The gratitude of the king and favourite was all for the mother, who had striven to prevent the match, whilst the father, who had proposed it to Buckingham's. elder brother, and had forced it to a celebration at Hampton Court, was not permitted to show his. face in his wife's house at the famous reconciliation-dinner, to which she welcomed the king and queen after her liberation. Worse yet came of this.

“ And