thinking Europe,—of a FREE Christian people. In vain is it to hang beside it hasty recriminatory daubs of countervailing white slavery, or of the charms of slavery, as exhibited by a quasi paradisaical state, where such monsters as Legree, Mrs St Clare, Haley, Marks, and Tom Loker, exist not. All such attempts have already proved, as might have been anticipated, ridiculous failures, as far as they had been designed to stultify and falsify Uncle Tom's Cabin, and divert from it the stern eye of public morality. How to deal with slavery, is a tremendous problem for enlightened Christian statesmanship. It cannot tolerate the meddling of an unfortunate, impulsive, unreasoning, unreflecting, however ardent and generous, so-called humanity. True humanity, in this instance, consists in a sincere, comprehensive, deliberate, and resolute effort to rouse the PUBLIC OPINION of America—of a great and enlightened nation on behalf of its slave population; and we believe that that public opinion will ere long find, with more embarrassment and danger the longer the discovery takes to be made, that slavery is an ulcer, a foul spreading ulcer, eating its way, perilously, to the very vitals of the body politic."

Will slavery-American slavery-will slavery at allbe in existence on the earth, a century hence? It is a vast question, and we will not presume to answer it. Perhaps our imaginary brother of the twentieth century may read what is here being written by his brother of the nineteenth, and applaud our caution. Slavery may then have become a thing of the past; or, in the fortunes of the world, in the mysterious, sublime, and even then unaccomplished destiny of the human race, that institution may still have its monstrous strangling coils encircling large and helpless sections of the family of man.

But if our shadowy brother of 1953 come to any other conclusions than are favourable to the intelligence of us of 1853, in respect of our reception of Uncle Tom's Cabin, as Maga will doubtless be then in flourishing existence,

we look to our lineal successors, in our seat of critical justice, to take up the cudgels for us, and vindicate our opinions, and cautious vaticinations. And, in the mean time, Harriet Beecher Stowe, be it known a century hence, that though by no means blind to your little literary shortcomings, we are ashamed of neither yourself, nor our reception of your book; that one not of the least important names of the present century is your own, already, and though you should never write another book. We doubt, indeed, whether you ever will do so: whether, at least, it will, or can be, a great book; for this one embodies your life-long experiences, heart-yearnings, and long-cherished thoughts. Your whole soul is wrapped up in its single noble purpose; so, Sis fœmina Unius Libri.

CALAIS:

MY ADVENTURES, PLEASURES, AND EMBARRASSMENTS– THITHER, THERE, AND BACK.*

DEAR

LONDON, September 1837.

-Conceiving that at that particular time of the year, and juncture of public affairs, London would not miss me for a fortnight or so, I slipped quietly away to Dover with my wife and little son, and his attendant, on the 10th of August last. On the ensuing Sunday afternoon, about two o'clock, you might have seen me perched upon the summit of Shakspeare's Cliff, gazing from that silent, celebrated eminence, through the clear air, at the outline of the French coast, dim in the distance. Never had I seen it before, and many things did the sight of it suggest to a thorough Englishman. Upwards of thirty years had I lived in the world, without having seen more of it—I am almost ashamed to write it down-than England, Wales, and Scotland. Never had I been so near France and shall I lose this opportunity, thought I, as I discerned the Calais packet like a little hissing teakettle making its way for Dover, of placing my foot upon Monsieur's territory and that, too, at ancient Calais, once ours; of hearing foreign people speaking a foreign language in a foreign place—even if it be for but a day— of seeing, in short, how they carry on the war?-Hem!— To Calais will I verily go on the morrow by the eight o'clock boat, if I am alive and well,—nay, peradventure my wife would choose to accompany me; and if she do, I

* Blackwood's Magazine, 1837.

am sure my little son shall not be left behind-and then his maid must go-whew! here was a regular affair upon my hands all at once! Diis sic visum. Then arose before my mind's eye the usual train of desagrémens-searching, and registering, and so forth :-but my mind was made up, and could not easily be turned from this great enterprise.

Monday the 14th August opened calmly and beautifully. The sea seemed smooth as a polished mirror—a sight that not a little comforted me on account of my companions, as we passed along the shingly shore a little after seven o'clock, on our way to the harbour, where, lo! two steamers were making sputtering and smoking preparations for starting-one an English boat, the other the French mail-packet.

"Sare," said in a low tone the captain or steward of the latter, stepping up to us as we approached—“ if you shall go wit me-bien!-we shall take you for five shilling-de oter sharge you ten shilling-and, certainement! —we shall be dere one half hour first-Sare! we carry de maille!" he added, with an important air.

I"

"No-I-I think," said I, hesitating-"I think

"Beautiful boat, sare! mi ladi, ver fine boat

We passed on to make inquiries into the real state of the question as to fares; and I soon found that the Frenchman had taken the great liberty to tell me a greater lie; for the English boat charged only five shillings instead of ten shillings; and her captain seemed such a hearty thorough-going Englishman, that forthwith we stepped down the accommodation-ladder-and were soon on our way, having the start of the Frenchman, who did not follow for several minutes. At length we beheld Monsieur coming out of the harbour; and I began to feel a little curious to see which was the better sailerunion-jack, or tri-colour.

"Which is the quicker boat?" I asked of the captain, as we both stood looking over the stern at our companion.

"Why-much about the same; perhaps—if there is any difference, why, sometimes one has it, and sometimes the other, you see!"

"Which will get to Calais first to-day, d'ye think?" 66 Why, we shall not a doubt of it. Monsieur won't fetch up this start, anyhow-let him puff and blow as hard as he likes!"

"His is a very good-looking boat, eh?"

"Ay, ay,—no doubt; all outside, though-like all the French! Our inside and engines are five times the strength of his. His boat is just fit for this sort of thing; but I'd go round the world in mine, blow me if I wouldn't!"

For about twelve miles the two boats preserved the same relative distance; and I felt a kind of school-boy's interest in standing and watching our competitor-whom, by and by, I regretted to see certainly beginning to gain upon us. By the time that we were about two-thirds on our way, the fellow had positively got up to us.

Ah, captain-'tis no use; we're overmatched; I'm afraid the tri-colour is rather too much for the unionjack "

"Tri-colour a match for the union-jack! Excuse me, but she ain't—and none knows it better than she, or she's had a mighty lot of licking without learning her lesson!" he added, with a disdainful air.

"But still I'm afraid that on this occasion

"If she does get in first, it's because we don't try it on with her. I don't care a button which gets into harbour first. What does it signify? I never took the trouble to race with her!

This might be; but shortly afterwards he sauntered apparently carelessly forwards, and in passing evidently whispered something to the engineman below-and we certainly a little increased our speed. By and by I observed the captain looking occasionally with affected indifference at his rival-somewhat stimulated, neverthe