of the civilization of the world, the prosperity of America is not indifferent to Europe; for she it is who feeds our manufactures and keeps our commerce alive. It is to our interests that the Republic of the United States may be powerful and prosperous, but by no means that she should take all the Gulf of Mexico, and hence command the West Indies, as well as South America, and be the sole dispenser of the products of the New World. If, on the contrary, Mexico conserves her independence and maintains the integrity of her territory; if a suitable government be constituted there, with the assistance of France, we shall have restored to the Latin race, from the other side of the ocean, its strength and prestige; we shall have guaranteed their security to our colonies of the West Indies and those of Spain; we shall have established our beneficent influence to the center of America; and that influence, by creating immense openings to our commerce, will procure for us the indispensable materials for our industry. Mexico, thus regenerated, will always be favorable to us, not only by acknowledgment, but also because its interests will be in harmony with ours, and it will find a point of support in its good relations with the European powers. Now, therefore, our military honor pledged, the exigence of our politics, the in'erest of our industry and our commerce, make it our duty to march on Mexico, to plant there boldly our standard, to establish there a monarchy, if it is not incompatible with the national sentiment of the country-but, at all events, a government which promises some stability." A monarchy was established and supported by French arms until the glowing ardor of Napoleon for a great Latin Empire in America was dampened by a communication received from the foreign office in Washington. It is not impossible that France is of the opinion that the soil of the Orient is better adapted to the growth and perpetuity of monarchies than is that of the Occident and that she will avail herself of the opportunity to experiment along those lines. This much is certain: that the diplomatic relations of the European powers growing out of their attitude toward the Turkish question are strained almost to bursting, so that at any time a rash move may precipitate a strife, the results of which no man can foresee. What ever may come of the present threatened crisis, we have here a question of intense interest to those interested in international politics and the welfare of mankind. The withdrawal of the French forces from Turkish territory after her financial claims are satisfied simply postpones the crisis. The government of the Sublime Porte still remains a festering sore upon the body politic of Europe. But notwithstanding France has withdrawn from the island, evidence is not wanting to show that the French have ulterior designs. With the advantage gained, there has been. a corresponding growth in her demands; so that a claim which orig inally was simply a demand for the payment of a debt has been enlarged so as to include railway concessions, the protection of French schools, and the right of France to protect the Armenian Christians. The latter two seem very harmless and innocent and withal very just demands, yet they would furnish France an ample pretext for intervention at any time. It will be remembered that the provisions in the early treaties between Turkey and Russia, giving the latter the right to protect the Christians in Turkey, were used as an entering wedge for repeated interferences in the political affairs of Turkey. That the affair is viewed with suspicion in England will appear from the following typical comment which is taken from the Manchester Guardian: "France, we are told, has no territorial designs. The phrase is one which we have heard before as a description of the conduct of other nations. France does not intend a permanent occupation of the island. This also is an assurance with a familiar ring. Phrases of this kind are a part of the small change of diplomacy, handed across the counter to meet the demands of the moment, but bearing no appreciable relation to the final settlement of accounts. The future action of France will not, in fact, be determined by her present intentions, whatever they may be, but by the pressure of the series of events to which her present action will give rise." It Fortunately for us this troublesome question is not a disturbing factor in our politics: our interests do not force us to take a hand in its settlement, as was the case in the French intervention in Mexico. is to be hoped that war will be averted by the wisdom and tact of those who are conducting the negotiations and guiding the policies of the nations concerned; nevertheless, certain it is that wars have resulted, even in recent years, over less conflicting interests. The situation is well worth watching. THE CONFESSIONS OF WILLIAM BROWN PREFACE I. ES,. yes-I know, but calm that angry look, I know your literary taste can't brook, That I, a trifling scribbler of the town, Should take the meter of the greatest book In humor, insight, and (what's strange) renown. Wit, truth, save two or three, in English speech: But pause and hearken, reader, I beseech. II. It is not that in blind conceit I chose A rivalry ev'n Austin's self might shun, Or seized the stanza for its trenchant close And gift of mingling sorrow, sense, and fun, Or fail to see the chance of clamorous foes: "Why hold your farthing candle to the sun?" Or have the cunning advertiser's liking III. My seeming impudence has no such reason, Has been my refuge with its mocking cheer, I have so come to rest and lave and drink in it One William Brown, an intimate of mine, Is fain to be life's critic and decline Upon the slope of anecdote's banality And poor philosophy's excuse—'tis fine That man may chattering cheat his blood's poor quality I purpose to relate his mild confessions Some trifling accidents, a few impressions. VI. But Brown is quite an ordinary man (I'd run no risk of cheating expectation) His life is formed on no heroic plan Nor does his wit too boldly flout a nation Which loves not wit; his melancholy can Achieve the mode of happy simulation: He is no saint nor overmuch a sinner, Is dressed like you and me and likes his dinner. VII. In general, reticent. But late o' nights, Upon that hour when most our frankness flows, An hour when others sleep, as if the flights Of fear-enfranchised truth, which sleep bestows Caused us in sympathy our hearts disclose- VIII. And here's enough of preface. But pray note My friend's examples and philosophy; And further criticism must not pry. CHAPTER I. I. Upon a day too many years ago, When I (that's Brown) was not quite twenty-five -A day in June-I walked along the Row, Shunning the busy and reproachful hive And wishing space for thought, while to and fro With sun and green and breezes, not quite heaven. II. But I cared nothing for the winsome breeze At twenty-five, he will be sure to tease Himself with futile thought, to gloat or moan Over a mistress, or his debts like bees Will settle on his brain, or-this you'll own The better part, I'm sure-some great ambition Will fire his spirit, or a noble mission. III. Simple sensation's not for clever youth- Or hoping lies, or looking for a day Other than this. In short it hath a tooth That aches when it's not eating. Never stray, |