home, watching her loving recognition of the goods the gods have sent her in the simple offerings which she laid upon the family altar, and learning from her the lesson, so familiar to ourselves, that in the hour of devotion it is the pure heart and the thankful, contented spirit that give virtue to the prayer for help or for forgiveness. In that region women of the same type are still to be found; and when visiting Horace's farm a few months ago I fancied I could read in the sweet grave looks and bearing of more than one of the peasant women whom I met the patient, reverent, hopeful spirit which reconciled them, as it did Horace's Phidyle, to a life of toil-of toil made sweet, however, because it was shared by those they loved. Remembering that Horace died before the beginning of the Christian era, and that he never had heard of higher truth, there is a fine tone of natural piety in his best poems. One great lesson Horace is always teaching-gratitude and forbearance-gratitude for Heaven's gifts, forbearance and charity to our neighbours. In one of his latest Epistles (II. 2) he asks of his readers, "Do you the failings of your friend forgive? Thank Heaven for each new birthday that you live? And how charming is the picture of himself which he gives in another Epistle of somewhat earlier date : "As for myself, whene'er I sit and and dream We ought to have stated that in 1875 the distinction of C.B. was conferred on Mr. Martin, and in 1880 he was made Knight Commander of the Bath. In 1875 the University of Edinburgh conferred the honorary degree of LL.D. An unexpected and gratifying honour came a few years later in the election of Sir Theodore to be Rector of the University of St. Andrews. In taking office it is usual to give an inaugural address, and this was done on November 21, 1881, to the great satisfaction of the senate and members of the university. The speaker began by gracefully expressing his own feelings on the position to which he had been called, especially the pleasant surprise at finding that "the younger spirits of my dear native land thought that I had done something in my day and generation not unworthy of their race." He then recalled his own early days of training and of aspiration, not without criticism on the mode of education then, if not still, too much in vogue. Speaking from the experience of my own youth, the range of studies was too limited, the methods of instruction were faulty; and too much, far too much, time was spent over these studies, such as they were. We were too early taken away from learning the structure and the resources of our own language, and from its stores of historical, biographical, and other knowledge which the opening mind of youth could follow with interest and assimilate with ease and advantage, and were sent to puzzle in a confused way over Latin and Greek, to which many of the best years of our youth were devoted, almost to the exclusion of every other study. Never can I forget the hopeless weariness of those long hours spent in the Edinburgh High School during six years in learning badly what might easily, under proper training, have been learned thoroughly in one-half the time. He then pays a generous tribute to the teacher we have already named, Professor Pillans, of the University of Edinburgh. What had seemed harsh, crabbed, colourless, grew full of fascination and charm. He taught us to read and assimilate the thoughts, of which the words had heretofore seemed but sapless husks. He connected the literature of Rome with its history; he made us understand something of the men to whom it was addressed and of the state of society in which it was produced. Thus he made it a living thing for us. He taught us to think of men, who for us had hitherto been little better than names, as human beings much like the men who had made and were making our own history, and encouraged us to try to gather from their stories incentives to work as they had done, Certare ingenio, contendere nobilitate, and lessons to guide in the formation of opinion as to what is the foundation of a nation's greatness, and by what the greatness of a nation, once achieved, is alone to be maintained. The range of academic study is wider than in former days, and both in schools and colleges there is a scientific as well as classical side of education. "But whatever a man's special gifts may be, or whatever his future profession or pursuits in life, he cannot but be a gainer by the training which is to be had under a good system of classical education." "Moreover, the tone of thought in the best Greek and Roman writers is essentially noble and manly. Trained upon such standards the mind is less likely to be attracted by what is false or feeble, unwholesome, sickly, or sentimental, of which there is enough and to spare in modern literature." "The main thing, after all, is that in youth we learn to learn,' and, having done this, that we then find out for ourselves what interests us most, and what we are therefore likely to do best. With that knowledge, let us then determine to work out what gifts we have with all our might." The address contains a fine appeal as to the dignity and the advantages of study and of work, advantages manifold to the worker as well as to those for whom he labours. One benefit is the freshness it gives to the mind at every period of life. It is no paradox to say that there is nothing like work,pursued, of course, with a due regard to the claims of the body to exercise and care-for maintaining the elasticity of the mind, and preparing it for what we should all aim at, the carrying on the spirit of youth, the freshness of enjoyment, into riper years, and even into old age. Idleness and frivolity are the cankers of the soul, and bring upon it premature disgust, decrepitude, and palsy. In this great world of moral and material wonder, where there is so much of beauty, of grandeur, of mystery, of struggle, of noble effort, of pitiful failure, of magnificent enterprise, of fascinating discovery,so much to love, so much to admire and to revere, so much to help forward, so much to fight against and to subdue,-in this world, which we believe to be but the training ground of our souls for nobler, and higher, and less encumbered work hereafter, in this quasi childhood of our real lives-why should we not try to keep our souls as open to new impressions in our riper years as in the days of our youth? It is not years that make age. Frivolous pursuits, base passions unsubdued, narrow selfishness, vacuity of mind, life with sordid aims, or without an aim at all-these are the things that bring age upon the soul. Healthful tastes, an open eye for what is beautiful and good in nature and in man, a happy remembrance of youthful pleasures, a mind never without some active interest or pursuit these are things that carry on the feelings of youth even into the years when the body may have lost most of its comeliness and its force. In 1852 Mr. Martin married Helen Faucit, the greatest actress of her time, of whom it would be unbecoming to say more here than that she is as highly esteemed in private as she was admired in professional life. Only a single incident we venture to mention. When Sir Theodore was in St. Andrews for the purpose of delivering his address, Lady Martin delighted the students of the ancient Scottish university by giving them a Shakespearian reading. As many of those who heard her were not likely ever to know much about the drama except through books, this kind and courteous act of the wife of their Rector was warmly appreciated, and will be remembered by those who in after life only look out upon the world from country manses and other "loop-holes of retreat." IN THE GREAT DURBAR AT LAHORE. IN the history of India there is no event at once so splendid and so significant as the great durbar held by Sir John Lawrence at Lahore. There may have been scenes to rival it in outward pageantry, such as the subsequent durbar at Agra, which in some aspects was even more imposing. The Prince of Wales may have received more obsequious vassals, and witnessed more gorgeous gatherings, and there have been many other scenes of barbaric splendour in earlier and in later times. But there never was a scene so combining moral grandeur with material magnificence as when the princes and rulers of Northern India assembled to do honour to their former chief, Jan Larrin, now Sir John Lawrence. Before he went out as Viceroy he was universally regarded as "the Saviour of India." As ruler of the Punjab he had transformed what was once the most dangerous region of India into the strongest and most loyal of all its provinces. At his bidding it had poured down from its hills and plains the flower of its native chivalry, to recover Delhi, and to stem the tide of the Sepoy rebellion. By universal consent the foremost man of his time in Indian annals, he retained the simplicity and humility of his early life. Yet he understood how, especially to the Oriental mind, pomp is a symbol of power, and this king of men appeared as the central figure in a spectacle of State ceremony little in accordance with his personal For many days before the arrival of Sir John Lawrence at the capital of the Punjab, the whole province had been astir. The famous jewellers of the Chandi Chouk at Delhi had packed off their glittering stores to grace the Viceregal pageant. The roads not least the Grand Trunk Road itself had been blocked by the huge trains of the native Princes, who, vieing with one another in their magnificence, were lazily hurrying on towards their destination. The solid silver howdahs and the fantastically decorated doolies; the carriages and flags; the elephants and camels; the horses, mules, and bullocks; the infantry soldiers armed with shields and long matchlocks, and the troops of cavalry clad in chain armour--altogether formed a scene of ever-varying and picturesque confusion. On October 13, the last and greatest of the "independent" or "protected" Princes, Runbeer Sing, Maharaja of Jummoo and Kashmere, attended by a train of some 5,000 followers, reached the separate camping-ground for which, as a sovereign Prince, he had stipulated, in the great plain outside the city. His followers were gorgeously caparisoned. But his own dress was of plain white muslin, "ostentatious in its simplicity," except in the matter of his turban, which was a "study of elegant magnificence." It was of pale blue and white silk, trimmed with gold lace, and ornamented with a single peacock's feather fastened by a sparkling jewel. The Maharaja of Puttiala had arrived shortly before him. And now all was ready for the Viceroy. Sir John Lawrence had left Simla a few days previously, and each stage of his progress had brought him amongst more and more familiar faces and scenes. At Umritsur he was greeted by Arthur Roberts, who had been Commissioner All who knew or who admired John Lawrence are grateful that the preparation of his "Life" has been entrusted to such hands. We wish that the study of the book could be made compulsory on every candidate for civil or military posts in India, and that an essay on the character and career of John Lawrence were required in every competitive examination for the Indian service. We hope also that in due time a shorter biography may be prepared by the author, as a training book for young readers of every class. at Lahore during the crisis of the Mutiny, and had now risen to be Judicial Commissioner of the Punjab; by Donald MacLeod, who was still its Financial Commissioner; and by Sir Robert Montgomery, who was its Lieutenant-Governor. It was a pleasant meeting of old friends, and if any one had the right on that eventful day to feel almost as happy and almost as proud as the Governor-General himself, it must have been his earliest and his latest friend, the man who was so worthily filling his post as Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab, and was now to have the supreme satisfaction of receiving the Viceroy as his guest, the ever-genial and ever-young Sir Robert Montgomery. The friends of the Governor-General saw at a glance they never could have thought otherwise -that he was quite unchanged by the change in his condition."He wore,' says an eye-witness, "the same simple dress. There was the same vigorous movement of his limbs and head, and the same determined mode of expression, enforced by considerable action.' On arriving at the railway station at Lahore, the first sod of which he had himself turned as he left India six years before, he found that the whole of the Durbaris, and the whole city to boot, had turned out to greet him. There was the young Maharaja of Puttiala "blazing with diamonds," and the young Maharaja of Jheend, both of whom received a warm greeting, in memory of the timely aid rendered to him and to England by their predecessors during the Mutiny. There was the Maharaja of Kuppurthalla, who was to receive from his hands, a day or two hence, the Order of the Star of India, in recognition of his distinguished services, as well as his personal worth. While outside the station, on every coign of vantage and under the shade of every tree, were gathered crowds of natives, all hoping to hear the familiar voice, or, at least, to get a distant sight of the familiar form. Not many of them were altogether disappointed, and not a few of those whom he knew and recognised received a friendly word or even a familiar pat upon the back, with which they went home delighted. Sunday, the 16th, was a pleasant breathing space, as Sir John Lawrence and his school in the Punjab had always endeavoured to arrange that it should be, in the midst of work or of festivity. On Monday, the 17th, Sir John Lawrence got through an amount of work which must have satisfied even his insatiable appetite for it. At six o'clock in the morning he began to pay his return visits to the chiefs. After breakfast he held a discussion of some four hours with the chief officials on some great engineering works which were to be carried out at Mooltan. After luncheon he conversed with the teachers and the students of the Government schools, some 800 in number, who had been gathered together for the purpose; and amongst them he singled out for special notice the young son of Moolraj, the Dewan of Mooltan, but for whose rash act the Punjab would not have fallen till a later period, and, just possibly, might not have fallen at all into British hands. Later on in the afternoon, in the presence of a brilliant assemblage, he invested the Raja of Kuppurthalla with the Star of India His speech was in Hindustani, so that every word of it could be caught by the assembled chiefs. He dwelt on his personal friendship with the Raja's father, and on the distinguished services which, as none knew better than he, had been rendered during the Mutiny by the Raja himself. In the evening, the "Lawrence Hall," a building erected by his friends to commemorate his services in the Punjab, and bearing on its front, in large letters, the simple words, "John Lawrence," was formally opened amidst an enthusiastic assemblage. The chief feature of the whole ceremony was the simple and hearty eulogy pronounced by Montgomery on his chief, and the equally simple and even more touching tribute rendered by Sir John to his former colleagues, and, not least, to the mighty dead. The following day, the 18th, was that for which all that had preceded it was only the preparation. On that day the Viceroy was to receive, in Grand Durbar, an assemblage of princes and chiefs such as could have been gathered together in no other city, and from no other province in the empire. Bombay can boast of an extraordinary mixture of races in its population of nearly 700,000 souls. But in the vast city of tents which had been pitched outside the walls of Lahore, there were some 80,000 armed men, the retainers of six hundred chieftains, of every variety of stature and of countenance, of garments, of colour, and of language. The Tower of Babel or the Day of Pentecost can hardly have been witnesses of such a confusion of tongues; and Mithridates himself, master though he is said to have been of twentyfive different languages, could hardly have boasted, had he been ruler, not of his own Pontus and the adjoining "mountain of languages," but of the Punjab and its adjoining mountain ranges, that he was able to transact business in their own dialects with every tribe in his dominions. There were huge warriors from Peshawur and its mountain crags, who would have laughed to scorn a summons from Lahore, had it come to them from Runjeet Sing himself. There were wild and unkempt Hill-men from the Suliman Range, who looked as though they would be willing to cut the throats of their dearest friends in revenge for a fancied affront, or to gain some paltry bit of plunder. There was the burly Envoy from Cabul and his numerous following. There were Rajpoots of the oldest stock in existence, from the Kangra Hills. There were little Ghoorkas from the frontier of Thibet. There were wiry Sikhs from Malwa and the Manjha, some of them the very men who had shaken our empire at Ferozeshah and Chillianwallah, and had afterwards done much to save it before Delhi. Finally, there were ambassadors from Khokand-a city hardly as yet known to fame even among the Sikhs and Afghans, far away in the half-fabulous regions beyond the Oxus-who had come, not for the first time, to ask for English aid against the "great White Czar," who, even then, seemed to be threatening their existence, and before long was to make good his threats, in his unstaying and pitiless advance across the wilds of Central Asia. All The spot chosen for the Durbar was picturesque and impressive enough. It was a green and spacious plain, half-encircled by the Ravi; the very spot on which, a century before, Ahmed Shah Dourani had encamped, and on which, hardly a quarter of a century before, Runjeet Sing himself had repeatedly reviewed, in the mid career of his conquests, his noble, and, till then, invincible army. To the south lay the city of Lahore, almost every conspicuous building in which recalled the same famous name. There was the Mosque, with its marble domes and minarets, and its memories of the religious hate which separates Sikhs from Muslims. There was Runjeet's fort. There was Runjeet's palace. There was Runjeet's tomb. Thus, most of the historical associations of the place clustered around the life of the "Lion of the Punjab." that met the eye, on the other hand, told of the greater power which had swept him and his away, and, for good or evil, had taken his place. His son and heir was now a private English gentleman, living by choice in a Christian country, and professing the Christian religion. His wife, or the last of his wives, had just died in a London suburb; and the Koh-i-noor, the matchless jewel which had graced Persian, and Afghan, and Sikh sceptres, had passed through Sir John Lawrence's hands and pocket, and was glittering, six thousand miles away, in the crown of the English Queen. Was it for evil or for good, this mighty change; and all that had come, and was still to come from it? Here was food enough for thought, if only the dazzling sights which met the eye would leave any space for reflection. Every chief was to be in his place in the huge canvas palace by nine o'clock in the morning. But, that there might be no hitch in the arrangements, the Viceroy was, for once in his life, intentionally late. And the delay of half an hour, while it helped to raise expectation to the tiptoe, also gave time to note the brilliant dresses and to reflect on the strange histories of the six hundred units, who, each in his measure, went to make up the gorgeous whole. There was the Raja of Jheend, for instance, dressed in pure white muslin, glowing with emeralds and diamonds, and wearing a yellow turban. There was the Maharaja of Puttiala, the head of the whole Sikh race, wearing a rich lavender dress, which was almost concealed by emeralds and pearls. There was the Raja of Kuppurthalla, decorated with the newly won insignia of the Star of India. There was the Raja of Faridkote, clad, from head to foot, in the true Khalsa yellow. And the characters and careers of the assembled chieftains were, to the view of those who had any knowledge of the facts, as striking and various as their dress. There was the chief of the Kutoch family of Kangra; a discrowned king it is true, but belonging to one of the very oldest Rajpoot families, a family which could trace back-as it was believed-its genealogy for ten thousand years, through four hundred and eighty generations, and every one of them a king! There were the two high priests of the Sikh race, both descended in the direct line from the Guru Nanuk, the founder of the Sikh religion. There was the Sikh nobleman who, as the best rider of a nation of horsemen, had himself led the cavalry charge at Chillianwallah. There was the Persian Kuzilbash, who had saved the lives of the English prisoners-several ladies and children amongst them from instant death in the disastrous Afghan war. There was Nihal Sing Chachi, Sir John Lawrence's trusted adviser from the days of annexation onwards. There was Raja Sahib Dyal, at that moment a member of his Legislative Council. And, as might be expected, there were to be seen there also the extremes of youth and age, of bloated sensuality and of manly vigour and beauty. There was the young Nawab of Lohara, a boy of seven years old, who played his part with all the dignity of manhood. There was the Nawab of Dojana, on the other hand, so huge and so bloated that he was said to weigh thirty stone, that the walk from one end of the Durbar tent to the other completely took away his breath, and that he was unable, with his vast circumference, to take his seat upon the chair allotted to him till its arms had been cut away! Finally, there was the Raja of Faridkote, who was so stricken with paralysis that, when the time came for him to be presented to the Viceroy, he had to be carried up to the edge of the platform, when Sir John Lawrence, to save him the fatigue of being carried farther, stepped down from his throne, and walked to the edge of the cloth of gold, that he might receive him there. The Raja might well have excused himself from obeying the invitation of the Viceroy on the score of his illhealth; but, like many others, he was determined -as an eye-witness, to whom this account is much indebted, puts it-" at all hazards, to see the great Viceroy whose name was feared and loved throughout Upper India." And so, at all hazards, he came, and he had his reward. At last, the half-hour of suspense was over, and as the carriage and four of the Viceroy drove up to the tent, the troops who lined the road presented arms, the band struck up, the first gun of a royal salute was fired, and then the whole assembly of chiefs and princes rose to their feet as Sir John Lawrence, with all his orders on him, but still the simplest in attire of all present, walked up the tent, mounted the platform covered with cloth of gold, and took his seat upon the throne. On his right, was the Maharaja of Kashmere, and next to him the other princes in order of their precedence. On his left came Sir Robert Montgomery, Sir Henry Maine, Sir Donald Macleod, and the Commissioners of the various Divisions of the Punjab; while, behind the throne, the Deputy and Assistant Commissioners and other officers of the province were ranged in rows, some three hundred in number. Had Sir John Lawrence flinched or faltered in the day of trial seven years before, had he been, for one moment, other than himself, how many of that brilliant throng-so thought not a few amongst themwould not have been alive to take a part in that moving spectacle? As the booming of the last gun died away, the Viceroy rose, and, with energy and clearness, addressed the assembled chiefs in Hindustani, that lingua franca which everybody in India understands or ought to understand. His words were simple and earnest. They came straight from his heart, and made their way straight to the hearts of his hearers. And as they gazed upon his commanding form and listened to his direct and manly speech, they must indeed have felt that the combination in him of muscular, and moral, and mental power was pretty well complete. Maharajas, Rajas, and Chiefs! Listen to my words. I have come among you after an absence of nearly six years, and thank you for the kindly welcome you have given me. It is with pleasure that I meet so many of my old friends, while I mourn the loss of those who have passed away. Princes and chiefs! It is with great satisfaction that I find nearly six hundred of you assembled around me in this Durbar. I see before me the faces of many friends. I recognise the sons of my old allies, the Maharaja of Kashmere and Puttiala; the Sikh chiefs of Malwa and the Manjha; the Rajpoot chiefs of the Hills; the Mohammedan Mullicks of Peshawur and Kohat; the Sirdars of the Derajat, of Hazara, and of Delhi. All have gathered together to do honour to their old ruler. My friends! Let me tell you of the great interest which the illustrious Queen of England takes in all matters connected with the welfare, and comfort, and contentment of the people in India. Let me inform you, when I returned to my native country, and had the honour of standing in the presence of her Majesty, how kindly she asked after the welfare of her subjects in the East. Let me tell you when that great Queen appointed me her Viceroy of India, how warmly she enjoined on me the duty of caring for your interests. Prince Albert, the Consort of her Majesty, the fame of whose greatness and goodness has spread through the whole world, was well acquainted with all connected with this country, and always evinced an ardent desire to see its people happy and flourishing. My friends! It is now more than eighteen years since I first saw Lahore. For thirteen years I lived in the Punjab. For many years, my brother, Sir Henry Lawrence, and I, governed this vast country. You all knew him well, and his memory will ever dwell in your hearts as a ruler who was a real friend of its people. I may truly say that from the day we exercised authority in the land, we spared neither our time, nor our labour, nor our health, in endeavouring to accomplish the work which we had undertaken. We studied to make ourselves acquainted with the usages, the feelings, and the wants of every class and race; and we endeavoured to improve the condition of all. There are few parts of this province which I have not visited, and which I hope that I did not leave, in some degree, the better for my visit. Since British rule was introduced, taxation of all kinds has been lightened, canals and roads have been constructed, and schools of learning have been established. From the highest to the lowest, the people have become contented, and have proved loyal. When the great military revolt of 1857 occurred, they aided their rulers most effectively in putting it down. The chiefs mustered their contingents, which served faithfully, and thousands of Punjabi soldiers flocked to our standards, and shared with the British troops the glories, as well as the hardships, of that great struggle. Princes and gentlemen! If it be wise for the rulers of a country to understand the language and appreciate the feelings of its people, it is as important that the people should have a similar knowledge of their rulers. It is only by such means that the two classes can live happily together. To this end, I urge you to instruct your sons, and even your daughters. Among the solid advantages which you have gained from English rule, I will now only advert to one more. It has given the country many excellent administrators. Some of the ablest and kindest of my countrymen have been employed in the Punjab. Every man, from the highest to the lowest, can appreciate a good ruler. You have such men as Sir Robert Montgomery, Mr. Donald Macleod, Mr. Roberts, Sir Herbert Edwardes, Colonel Lake, and Colonel John Becher -officers who have devoted themselves to your service. I will now only add that I pray the great God, who is the God of all the races and all the people of this world, that He may guard and protect you, and teach you all to love justice and hate oppression, and enable you, each in his several ways, to do all the good in his power. May He give you all that is for your real benefit. So long as I live, I shall never forget the years that I passed in the Punjab and the friends that I have acquired throughout this province. No Governor-General since the time of Warren, Hastings, except Sir John Shore, could have addressed an assembly of native chiefs in their own, language, even if he would. It is doubtful if he would have so addressed them, even if he could. In any case, it was an act of courtesy and genuine feeling, as much as of high policy, on the part of Sir John Lawrence, which delighted all who heard it and all who heard of it, and was calculated to lessen the gulf which still yawns between the. European and the Asiatic, the ruler and the ruled. Usually, in a grand Durbar the Foreign Secretary, who must almost necessarily be a good Oriental scholar, takes his stand behind the GovernorGeneral and translates, as best he can, the words, which have fallen from the Lord Sahib. But it is, easy to see how much of the grace and of the dignity, of the interest and of the genuinenesss of the whole spectacle, is necessarily lost in such a process. Nobody who witnessed the Lahore Durbar and saw the effect produced by Sir John Lawrence and his speech, could doubt that the objections, theoretical and practical, to a civilian Viceroy sank into insignificance, when the times were what they were, and when the civilian selected for the almost unprecedented honour was a man with the history and the character, the abilities and the personal presence of Sir John Lawrence. At the close of his speech, the Viceroy took his seat, and then the Maharajas, the Rajas, and the Sirdars, with their principal followers, were presented to him, in due order of precedence. Each chief brought up his golden nuzzur, which was touched by the Governor-General and then laid at his feet. Sir John had many a kindly word and many a hearty shake of the hand for his old ac quaintances; and his eyes were seen visibly to brighten as some chiefs who had done good service in the crisis of 1857 approached the steps of his throne. Then followed the khilluts, or gifts of honour from the Viceroy to the chiefs-silver vases, gold clocks, inlaid rifles, silk dresses, strings. of pearls and other jewels, which reached, as they lay upon the ground, from the platform right up to the entrance of the tent. It was a splendid sight, alike in what it was and what it meant. "And men, taught wisdom from the past, In friendship joined their hands; Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, So admirable were the arrangements, that the ceremony, which had been expected to last till three in the afternoon, was over two hours before that time. The Viceroy left the tent, as he had arrived, amidst the booming of guns, the roll of drums, and the presenting of arms. And then the great ceremonial was over. The official note from Sir John Lawrence to, |