stop for a moment to inform the reader that an engraving in volume 2, page 128, represents Mr. Cumming and the boa at this critical period of their playful controversy, and that too much praise cannot be given to the boa, all Mr. Cumming's explanations notwithstanding, for his evident self-denial and devotion to the cause of manly sport throughout the whole proceeding.

"The snake,” proceeds the journal, “finding the ground too hot for him, relaxed his coils, and suddenly bringing round his head to the front he sprang out at us like an arrow, with his immense and hideous mouth opened to its largest dimensions, and before I could get out of his way, he was clean out of his hole, and made a second spring, throwing himself forward about eight or ten feet, and snapping his horrid fangs within a foot of my naked legs; I sprang out of his way, and getting a hold of the green bough I had cut I returned to the charge. The snake now glided along at top speed; he knew the ground well, and was making for a mass of broken rocks, where he would have been beyond my reach, but before he could gain this place of refuge I caught him two or three tremendous whacks on his head. He, however, held on, and gained a pool of muddy water, which he was rapidly crossing, when I again belaboured him, and at length reduced his pace to a stand. We then hanged him by the neck to a bough of a tree, and in about fifteen minutes he seemed dead, but he again became very troublesome during the operation of skinning, twisting his body in all manner of ways. This serpent measured fourteen feet.”

We cannot pretend to accompany Mr. Cumming

A LION HUNTER'S DREAM.

101

through all his sublime and unparalleled achievements. It is sufficient to state that the combat just recorded is but an insignificant episode in the fearful history of adventure and bloodshed in which the author of the volumes before us found himself engaged during the space of five years. The Knight of Altyre entered the dark forests of Africa, there planted his standard, and gaily proclaimed battle à l'outrance against all comers. No tournament of

old ever witnessed such foes, such fights, such spoils, -antelopes, lions, crocodiles, elephants, leopards, giraffes, wild dogs, big buffaloes, overgrown hippopotami, in tens, in twenties,-yea, in fifties, answered the Scotchman's challenge, and united to attest the strength of his heart and the stony firmness of his brave right hand. What the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals will think of the business we will not venture to guess. Might we advise the members of that gentle institution, we would humbly suggest to them to regard it as a dream and a fable. The hunter himself tells us that one night his sleep was harassed by distressing dreams. He dreamt that lions were scouring the world in search of him. Starting in the hole which served him for a bed, he uttered a loud shriek and could not recollect in what part of the world he stood. He heard the rushing of light feet, as of a pack of wolves, close on every side of him, accompanied by the most unearthly sounds. In the next moment, to his horror, he saw himself surrounded by savage wild dogs, chattering and growling. They might be counted by scores. There was not a moment for consideration. Eternity

yawned before the hunter, but his presence of mind came when the frightful dream had passed away. He knew that a human voice had power over the beasts of the earth, that a resolute bearing could appal the fiercest. Drawing himself up to his full height, he waved his large blanket with both hands, and addressed his savage assembly, as Demosthenes before him had overtopped the raging waters of the sea. The effect was electrical and decisive. The dogs acknowledged the supremacy of man, and retired to a respectful distance. Under the peculiar circumstances of a hunter almost alone in African forests it is easy to believe that dreamland and the land of reality very often lie in close proximitythat the confines of both cease to be discriminated and are not unfrequently interchangeable. Let the Society aforesaid, then, be comforted. For our part we know not scepticism. They of weaker faith may do homage to their incredulity and still exhibit no want of charity towards Roualeyn Gordon Cumming, by accepting one half of his work as gospel, and attributing the rest to the suppers of underdone lions, which are clearly as inimical to quiet repose as Welch rabbits and pork.

May 19, 1850.

TAYLOR, THE PRINCE OF PREACHERS. 103

LIFE OF JEREMY TAYLOR.

FOREMOST amongst the Christian worthies of England stands the admirable and renowned Jeremy Taylor, the gentle, the learned, the eloquent and pious. Free from the blemishes and faults of the majority of his brethren-who, born in the season of battle, may have displayed somewhat too much of the fierceness of combatants, he possessed in an eminent degree their masculine virtues, their fervent piety, their holy zeal. He is the prince of preachers, the father of the school in which Chalmers and Melvill are to-day disciples, and in which hundreds of feeble-mouthed but bold intruders seek in vain to acquire a standing and to claim a hearing. If we would learn the value of the man we must gather his panegyric from the lips of those whose privilege it was to attend his ministry, and to dwell beneath the light of his benign and gracious influence. One who saw him to his tomb has left a memorial of his worth in which the tones of affection strive with the accents of the pastor to do justice to the absent object of their love and adoration. "Had he lived," exclaims the Dean of Connor from the pulpit, "amongst the ancient Pagans, he had been ushered into the world with a miracle, and swans must have danced and sung at his birth; and he must have been a great hero, and no less than the son of Apollo, the God of wisdom and eloquence.”

Wise and eloquent in truth he was, but he was something more. We may admire him for his erudition, and stand amazed at the glorious imagery, the noble illustration, and dazzling metaphor of his rich style; but these are of the least of Taylor's claims upon our gratitude and reverence, and certainly not the brightest of the many jewels that centered in his crown. To have been the pupil and protected child of Laud, and yet to have maintained pure and undefiled a tenderness of spirit towards the Christian brethren of every school and class,-to have been the friend of Charles, and the stanch upholder of the rights of monarchy, and yet to have viewed all things with an enlightened and Catholic spirit of toleration, to have known persecution, and still to have been indulgent, to have suffered fire, only to be melted to charity and love; these are testimonies to excellence, than which we can ask none higher,—than which we can conceive none more convincing. "He considered," touchingly says the Dean of Connor, "that it is not likely any one party should wholly engross truth to themselves; that obedience is the only way to true knowledge; that God always and only teaches docible and ingenuous minds that are willing to hear and ready to obey according to their light; that it is impossible a pure, humble, resigned, godlike soul, should be kept out of Heaven, whatever mistakes it might be subject to in this state of mortality; that the design of Heaven is not to fill men's heads and feed their curiosities, but to better their hearts and mend their lives."

A resemblance has been traced oftener than once in the minds of Bishop Taylor and John Milton.