deception. Many of the ships which swelled out numbers were on the stocks, and would not be ready for some time. Unfinished ships are no real strength. Ships should be ready; and it was evident that the screw, a motive power which required no extraordinary change in the build of vessels, must be generally adopted. The command of the seas will belong to that nation which cæteris paribus shall be the most perfectly armed. The adoption at a fitting moment of some improvement inawell known-weapon has often sufficed to insure victory. The bayonet, for instance, was the cause of great success to the nation which first adopted it. So will it be with the screw; which undoubtedly gives a man-of-war qualities for attack and for defence which she did not possess before. Sheathing ships with copper is another instance of a very conclusive character. In 1783, copper sheathing for ships was invented-it was just at the time of one of the French wars with England. There was not copper enough in the stores nor money enough in the treasury to afford the ships this great improvement; so instead of a copper sheathing, a wooden sheathing of a few lines in thickness was stuck upon our ships. What was the consequence? This cuirass altered the lines of the ships, and checked their way, so that the fleets were unable to manœuvre when sent to America and India; while the English ships, all copper sheathed, swift, and unencumbered, manoeuvred perfectly. This slight addition to a ship produced a great inequality between the two belligerent powers; and so it may be with the screw, only to a much greater degree. The steps

must then be taken at once for fitting all the line-of-battle ships and frigates with this power.'

His remarks on the war establishment deserve the most careful attention, lying as they do constantly under the eye of the Emperor and his Minister of Marine :

We must ask ourselves what is the

15

naval organization suited to and suffi cient for a time of war? In other words, what is that naval organization which will enable us, should the necessity arise, to contend with our principal and our most formidable enemy, because that enemy is at the same time the nearest to us and the most mighty, because our whole history points out a long rivalry existing at all times between him and us; I speak of England. When engaged upon the naval organization of France, this, and this only, is the question to be considered. We must ask ourselves, If war breaks out with England, what shall we do? Now this should be our answer, We have a double duty to perform,-1st, to defend our own sea-board against all attacks and all surprises; 2ndly, we must be able to go and strike our enemy at the heart, by making a descent upon his shores.'

On the question of defending the coast of France, M. Daru remarks, that

All is changed since the plan was to erect batteries on every cape, and headland, and bay. Steam, which has afforded such powerful means of aggression, supplies also new and powerful means of defence. Adopt Vauban's principle, Modelez la défence sur les projets de l'attaque. Fortify strongly all the military harbours, the places of commerce, and the centres of wealth, to make them safe against a coup de main; but the steam vessel is the chief defence of the coast, fulfilling a double duty, that of action and of observation. Light vessels must continually be coasting the shores, communicating with the look out stations, warning them or being warned of what is going on at a distance. Possessing great speed, they will carry news, and go and seek for assistance in the nearest harbours, Dunkirk, Havre, Cherbourg, St. Malo, Brest, Lorient, St. Nagaire, each of which must contain small fleets of reserve. This is the system of defence to be adopted, mobile rather than inert. It is not expensive, because merchant ships may be employed in this duty, if they are built of sufficient scantling to enable them to mount a few guns, which could easily be done by offering a bounty.* It is effective because it rests upon a real force, the force which is husbanded for aggression, which menaces the enemy, and filling him with constant dread of a

VOL. XLVIII. NO. CCLXXXIII.

B

agreed with the last speaker, that France could not depend on the alliance of the United States; but great hope existed of Russia, 'in the event of a war, which England dreads, as much as we do, and will avoid, so long as she can carry on against us a more terrible war, by exciting and keeping up revolutions amongst us.' England could not spare the two fleets requisite for blockading the Russians. In this last remark M. Benoist spoke most truly.

M. Maissiat read a paper urging strongly the necessity of giving great speed to their ships, because England was so doing; one remark of his we must give in his own words, and with his own italics.

En effet, il faut au Français un instrument rapide, qui puisse de prêter à l'attaque, à la furia francese, à un coup de main hardi, à une surprise jusque sur la côte ennemie, comme l'ont indiqué nos amiraux ; il nous faut donc, pour le génie de notre nation, des navires à vapeur à vitesse maximum.

M. Fournier attached great importance to what he calls le dernier bill de Navigation de l'Angleterre. By this act England has invited all nations to reciprocity-the question of the liberty of the seas was at an end, and France could not count on the alliance of other maritime powers, and therefore in case of war with England, France must count upon herself alone. He considered that the real casus belli with England would probably be the English occupation of certain points in the Mediterranean and her pretensions for the occupation of others.

The remaining four members of the commission either did not speak, or made some brief and unimportant remark.

M. Dupin, however sensibly he may have spoken as to the invasion of England, spoke repeatedly and

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badly on the subject of war with England; for instance, he put the question What effect, think you, would be produced by the appearance of a fleet before Aden, taking possession of it, and establishing itself there victoriously?'

We ask our readers for a reply to this question.

The discussion being closed, M. Charnier voted that the number of line-of-battle ships should be raised from forty to fifty. This proposal was rejected. Admiral Laîné then moved the increase of forty to forty-five, and this was adopted.

Our object, however, is not to follow these commissioners in the details of their discussion; but we had a distinct purpose in drawing the attention of our readers to each line we have quoted from the Enquête Parlementaire. The circumstances, indeed, are changed since these commissioners commenced their investigation-France is no longer ruled by a tumultuous assembly-but is the case improved? We shall not attempt to discuss the question of peace or war; most earnestly do we desire, as we believe all our readers do, that this tremendous mine may not explode; but it is well to know that the mine is charged and ready.

A change of rulers does not alter the mind of France. Are her financial prospects so very bright? The Budget de l'Exercise, 1854, lies before us. It tells no promising tale; we read of an insuffisance actuelle in 1853 of fifty-two millions and a half of francs! This is elsewhere called the découvert de 52 millions et demi. Découvert, that is, expenditure uncovered by income. A financial crisis may lead to the necessity of throwing dust in people's eyes. It may easily be found out some fine morning, that the honour of France has been touched, and then-Adieu Raison.

MR.GEORGE JOHN CAYLEY

is already known to fame as the author of Sir Reginald Mohun—a poetical fragment of much dramatic interest, and exhibiting remarkable powers both of thought, language, and versification. The prose volumes before us display the same genial humour and youthful fluent fancy, and dash off experiences of Peninsular venta and way-side, or, as Mr. Cayley prefers to call them, the inns and outs of Spanish travel, with a pencil as facile and sparkling as that which pictured the revels and the woes of Nornyth.

First, a few words on their name. Las Alforjas does not mean the bridle-roads of Spain, as Mr. Bentley's blundering half-title would lead us to infer. The lover of Don Quixote will remember that the good knight, in preparing for his second expedition, after securing the attendance of Sancho, and his hesitating consent to that of Dapple, 'above all things, charged him to bring sobre todo le encargo que llevaseALFORJAS. Our language has no precise equivalent for this dual substantive of Arabic derivation, which Skelton and other translators have erroneously rendered wallet. Saddlebags is the nearer in meaning; but its sense is more limited than that of alforjas, which are more properly a pair of connected wallets, formed out of one long piece of coarse stuff, with the two ends turned up and sewn together at the edges; and which are hung not only across the loins of Dapple or Rozinante, but

very often over the breast and back of the pedestrian peasant, his head protruding through a hole cut for the purpose in the intermediate stuff. The material is usually of strongly woven wool, gaily dyed in horizontal stripes; the sacks'-mouths are secured by loops and a running cord, and a protecting flap of stuff; and the entire construction forms both a convenient valise and a very ornamental piece of horse-furniture. A very ancient equipment of the Spanish traveller, alforjas have been also honoured by saintly history, and

form the symbol of St. Marina, a virgin martyr of Gallicia, who is never portrayed without a pair hanging over her arm; and the word having been introduced to the English world by the Spanish Handbook, it is now finally promoted to a place in English literature, beside Eothen, Gazpacho, Lavengro, Hochelaga, and many other hard names which have been made household words by eminent pens.

These Alforjas contain a series of letters, addressed chiefly to a young lady, introduced to us as dearest Mabel,' a name to which we are given to understand Cayley is soon to be appended. The letters profess to have been written to Mr. Cayley's betrothed, and they are prefaced by some pretty lines of poetical dedication, in which the author informs her that, it being the immemorial custom of lovers to write the name they love on the first place that comes to hand, on woodland bole or window pane,' he has ventured to inscribe hers on his saddlebags. This form of the book is one of the few faults we have to find with one of the pleasantest tours that has been laid on our table for many a long day. Some, or perhaps parts of some, of these letters may have been written for the purpose alleged; but it is plain that the best and biggest portion of the work was written and spiced rather for Bentley than the boudoir. We hope Mabel's mamma will not be much shocked when she unpacks her future son-in-law's alforjas. But in truth we do not believe that Mr. Cayley would have written thus to a real Mabel; and we consider that young lady as a mythical personage, allied perhaps to the family of old François de Rastaignac,' whose folio chronicle, found by our author at Narbonne, and cited by him as an authority for a suspicious-looking legend (i.21), has hitherto escaped the researches of the Querards and the Brunets. Not content with occasionally hoaxing his readers, perhaps the lively traveller means to exert his powers of mystification on his young lady

friends. His dedication, with the carte blanche at its head, looks very like an apple of discord maliciously thrown amongst his rival goddesses. But the joke ought not to have been carried beyond the dedication. The interest of personal romance, which an author thus seeks to obtain for a book of travels, is dearly purchased at the expense of awakening the suspicion that he is romancing.

Leaving England in October, 1851, Mr. Cayley conveyed himself across France by rail and Rhone, and entered Spain by way of Perpignan. He hurried through the fine town and lovely plain of Gerona by night, and embarking at Barcelona, coasted the iron-bound shore of the Peninsula as far as Cadiz. Seville was his winter resting-place, where his time was agreeably spent in making acquaintance with the fellow-citizens of Murillo, and in acquiring the language of Cervantes. With the former he was soon at home, and we doubt not a favourite, while with the latter he became sufficiently familiar to compose erotic poetry in very Castalian Castillian. We regret to say that his effusions were not pleasures of memory having Mabel for their theme, but were inspired by the dark eyes of a certain Assuncion Gonzalez, a coquette, who dealt in cigars and smiles, at the corner of the Calle de las Sierpes. With one of these amatory exercises, a sonnet with which he, serpentlike, tempted the cigaresque Eve, the British public is now favoured; and hazarding an opinion with all the diffidence of foreigners ungifted with Mezzofantine powers, it seems to us both in thought and language superior to most of the verse chanted and strummed to beneath the politer balconies of Seville. It is accompanied - no doubt for Miss Mabel's especial benefit-with a translation, wherein the heart of the British tourist is said, like a weary sea-bird lighting. on a sail, to have perched on the bosom of Miss Assuncion, but to have found it cold as the flags of Pall-mall, a temperature, which Mr. Cayley honourably adds, in plain prose, it continued to maintain during his residence at Seville. It was during this period that Mr.

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Cayley paid and penned the visit to an olive farm, from which we extract his account of

OLIVE GATHERING.

Having seen how the oil was made, we went out to see how the olives were gathered, accompanied by Ramoncillo, the gamekeeper-a strange, lurching vagabond, who squinted at right angles, and had all his arms and legs of different lengths. He wore the dress of the country, much the worse for wear; over his broad, red, slovenly-arranged faja were strapped a profusion of outlandish belts and baldricks, and in his hand he bore a musket ornamented with silver.

After wandering some time among the devious paths of the olive-grove, we found the little colony of gatherers; for colony it seemed, being composed of men, women, and children down to the smallest possible dimensions. The babies, who had usually a very little girl to take care of them (unless they were slung up in a manta out of the way among their metaphorical brotherhood of olive branches), sprawled and babbled around head quarters.

Here, by a purple mountain of spoil, stood the general of the little army who, in all directions, were waging war with the trees of peace, besieging them with scaling ladders and belabouring them with long staves. The women (whose petticoats were tucked up above their waists, but who, to make up this little deficit of decency, wore breeches) were on their knees underneath, picking up the bright little berries as they rained from the beaten boughs. I tasted an olive, though I was aware it was not likely to be good. Let the reader imagine a rotten morel cherry soaked in oil, and he will not be far from having an idea of a ripe olive, except that there is a bitter, astringent after taste which sticks in the throat, and prickles on the tongue for some time.

The green olives, which we eat in their pickled state, are no more like the ripe, than pickled walnuts are like the walnuts of dessert.

When any of the women had filled their baskets, they came with them on their heads to the purple mountain aforesaid, and discharged their gatherings upon the heap. If there was much leaf and rubbish mixed with the fruit, the woman tilted up her basket behind and let a slender stream of olives fall from above her forehead, while a man with a flapping sack winnowed away the lighter matters.

Over the heap stood guard the steward or capataz, an ancient man, with a grizzly stubble on his chin (for it was