wide flowed into the Livingstone from the west, which the traveller named the Leopold river, in honour of his majesty, the king of the Belgians. Soon after they heard the roar of the first cataract, or the Stanley falls. How were they to pass them? They blazed' down the stream where an island divided it, took the island by storm, and rushed forward towards other four cataracts, where they were compelled to land the canoes, etc., and to drag them overland. Below the fifth cataract they re-embarked, and on reaching the sixth, January 23rd, they found that the river turned somewhat and ran to the south, south-west. Towns and villages existed on both sides of the stream, inhabited by wild and barbarous tribes, whom it was somewhat difficult to pass; but the seventh cataract was reached January 26th, and here. Frank Pocock became greatly depressed, but cheered up for awhile. A new tribe of savages, hideously painted for war, was encountered, armed with shields and spears, and a perfect wasp-swarm of little canoes appeared on the river, threatening to do very wonderful things. Next came monster canoes, that seemed like an invincible armada, and now a battle was inevitable, and after many combats Stanley was victorious. Later on another conflict was sustained with the Bangala, whom Stanley calls the Ashantees of the Livingstone, and a very superior tribe.

By and by the Expedition met with a more friendly people, of whom they were able to purchase food in abundance,-flour, maize, cassava, plantains, bananas and two small goats. These people were called the Barumbé, and though many of them were armed with guns, they were neither rude nor hostile. They are a finely-formed people, of a chocolate brown. What a field is here for the Christian missionary!

On the 11th of March, they found the river expanding into a pool, with mountains all around it, and lofty cliffs like those of Dover, to which they gave that name, calling the pool by the name of Stanley. Soon after came a tremendous struggle with the river, for it leaped headlong into an abysm of waves and foam, a fearful cataract, down which the most powerful steamer would be as helpless as a cockleboat. What was to be done? The vessels had to be landed and hauled over a rock, when they were again floated, but with sad accidents and considerable loss. Then other rapids and cataracts had to be encountered, and the vessels had again to be transported over three miles of ground.

Below the Stanley pool, the river, which runs almost due west, contains no less than thirty-two cataracts, some of which are fearfully dangerous. On the 29th of April, Stanley found himself in the midst of splendid forests, out of which he cut down a gum-frankincense tree, ten feet round at the base, and forty feet in length, out

of which he carved a new canoe, his crews being now converted into ship-builders. This canoe and also another were finished in a few days, and on the 22nd of May were launched upon the waters. Alas! erelong Stanley lost his friend Frank, who, a little too brave, ventured through one of the falls in his canoe, was sucked into the whirlpool and seen no more. The natives asked Stanley, Where is your white brother gone to?' 'Home.' 'Shall you not see him again?' 'I hope to." 'Where?' 'Above, I hope.' 'Ah! we have heard that the white people by the sea came from above. If you see him again, tell him that Ndalo is sorry, and that he is angry with the Massassa for taking him from you.' Francis John Pocock, drowned June 3rd, 1877,' are the words below the engraving to his memory which appears in the volume. Eight days after his death, his body was seen by a fisherman

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floating on the water, but only to disappear again until the resurrection morn.

Cataracts again, and yet again; but encountered one after the other, until that called Isangele was reached, the fall of which is in the shape of a crescent, with a drop of ten feet and another of eight. Here friendly natives were met with, who assured the party that they were but five days' journey to Embomma, where they would meet with white men like themselves. How joyous was this news! The goal seemed almost in sight,—but a few more perils and the mouth of the Congo would be reached. In 1816, Professor Smith and others had ascended up the river to the Isangele, and as it was not needful that Stanley and his party should pursue it further, he proposed to abandon it and strike across the country for Embomma; and the Lady Alice, after a journey of seven thousand miles across broad Africa, was left to bleach and rot above the Isangu Cataract.

But the party were in a sad plight, and no wonder, and it was difficult to obtain provisions. The chief of the neighbourhood was induced to send two of his young men, with three of Stanley's, to carry a letter to any gentleman who speaks English at Embomma.' It is a touching letter, describing the condition of the party and asking for immediate help. Would it reach its destination? and would the help be sent? Yes; only the next day a child cried out, 'O, I see Uledi and Kachéché coming down the hill, and there are plenty of men following them.'

,

Yes; it is true! it is true! Ah! that Uledi, he is a lion, truly! We are saved, thank God!'

And so it was. A letter was handed to Stanley from the English factory, Embomma, signed by Hatton de Cookson, A. Da Motta Veiga and J. W. Harrison, and presently food in abundance was before the half-starved expedition. What joy! what exhilaration! A band struck up a song about cataracts, cannibals and pagans, and at the end of each verse was the chorus,

'Then sing, O friends, sing; the journey is ended,
Sing aloud, O friends, sing to this great sea!'

A letter of thanks was forwarded, and, on the 9th of August, Stanley was welcomed in Boma, as the people called it, and met with such a reception as was worthy of a prince.

Here he and his party embarked in a steamer to Kabinda, Saint Paul de Loanda, and thence they proceeded in H.M.S. Industry for Cape Town. But faithful to his promise, Stanley never left his people until he had conveyed them safe back to Zanzibar.

Such is an abridged account of this wonderful enterprise. It is

romantic almost beyond comparison. And now this great problem of African geography is solved, and here is a new field for enterprise, skill and labour. This grand river is unhappily unnavigable, in consequence of its cataracts; but modern engineering talent will find out a way by which to overcome all difficulties, and, by river or by road, thousands will one day travel into the very heart of the dark continent. Much more remains to be done. Vast tracts of the country have to he explored; and to the Church of Christ new fields for missionary effort of almost unlimited extent are here. Africa will be a great country some day; and as its resources are opened out, its tribes Christianized, and its darkness dissipated, the names of Livingstone and Stanley, together with those of others who may tread in their steps, will be handed down from generation to generation with honour and renown.

And not Great Britain alone, but also America and Germany and France will take part in the exploration of this great country. Its productions-animal, mineral and botanical-are doubtless incalculable; its climate, though tropical, appears to be healthy and delightful ; and the scenery of its rivers is in some places equal to any of which we have heard or read. The tribes inhabiting it are various, and present a study for the ethnologist which he will not soon exhaust; whilst the philanthropist and the Christian will find scope for the exercise of all their powers, especially as slavery and even cannibalism are common evils. Surely God's providence is at work for Africa, and dark as the continent is to-day, its darkness must be scattered and dispersed before the civilization and the Christianity which will enter it erelong!

LEAVES FROM NOTES TAKEN IN BELGIUM.

BY SARSON, AUTHOR OF 'BLIND OLIVE,' ETC.*
ANTWERP THE DAY AFTER THE FETES.

FTER the Carnival, Lent. Antwerp, as she is now in contrast with what she was a few days ago, is an edifying spectacle. The Grande Place looks like a ball-room after the guests have departed, when all is confusion and the light of day steals in with a sickly glare, and the perfumes that linger on the air have grown too stale to be welcome. The rows of storied windows are no longer beaded with eager heads; the chairs before the restaurants and estaminets that have accommodated most picturesque groups, are not in themselves picturesque, especially now that they are in process of removal. The open trams that were crowded with people in gala dress are now nearly empty, and

* See this Miscellany for October, November, and December, 1878.

the cabs that were flying about merrily, reaping a guinea an hour, are drawn up in long rows, with the drivers asleep on the boxes. The music-stands on the Place Verte forlornly attest that the much-anticipated cantata is become a thing of the past. The flags hang limp and spiritless as the branches of a weeping willow, for even the air has swooned beneath an excess of sunshine, and will not bestow upon them a playful flutter. The festoons in the streets need to be buried out of sight, and the inhabitants are beginning to show irritation and to find fault with one another. Nothing, according to them, has been quite as it ought to be. Nothing is to be depended upon in Antwerp. Bad weather puts a stop to all the out-door festivities, and the grand, historic cortége that was to be, was a failure.

It is well understood now why the procession was to take place in the light in which most things look well; the velvet robes, being two years old, would not bear the day. Pitiable meanness it was, on such an occasion, not to buy everything new. There must have been great disappointment, if not ridicule, among the sight-seers. We confess that is a very great pity, for since a full century must elapse before a similar celebration can occur, the disappointment cannot be atoned for to the victims of it, and the next Rubens Commemoration will be celebrated by an entirely different assembly.

It is possible that the discontent expressed is owing to reaction, or the disappointment of certain tradespeople who might have benefited by the furnishing of new robes for the gay cavalcade. To our inexperienced eye it was gorgeous, and we have no doubt that the greater part of the visitors were quite unconscious of any shortcomings. It is better to enjoy ignorantly, than to be evermore carping critically. The fêtes were supposed to be wound up by the Monday evening's cantata, a very sweet Flemish performance, the words being in honour of the popular idol; but as if to convince their visitors that they had not yet worn their welcome out, the townspeople arranged another cavalcade for Tuesday. We did not wait to see it, but presume that it would defile through the Place Verte, perhaps pass the ancient College of the Jesuits. And there would be an appropriateness in honouring the house of Charles V. of brilliant memory, since none knew better than that monarch how to arrange these exhibitions, and none better understood the effect which they had upon the Flemish mind. As the man in outgrowing his childhood still shows something of his earlier traits, so old customs and traditions group themselves around the Rubens Commemoration, and the same instinct for civic display manifests itself, that played so important a part in the foundation of a school of artists. Antwerp still shows its love of decoration, of gorgeous robes, scholastic insignia, and pompous, demonstrative hero