appear. Then came in Philippa, "big with child," and knelt weeping at his feet. And he, for love of her and care for her condition, yielded to her prayer and gave them to her safe keeping. Her death bed too has the same tender grace. It is as sweet as the fragrance that steals from a saint's tomb. In her last moments she begs her lord to grant her request. Edward, all in tears, says: "Lady, ask. Whatever you ask shall be granted." Whereupon she begs of him three things: That he will pay all her debts; duly render all her legacies; and be buried by her side, side by side for all time. He answers solemnly, "Lady, I "Lady, I grant them." Whereupon she gave up her spirit, which, says Froissart, "I firmly believe was caught up by the holy angels and carried to the glory of heaven.'

This lowly attitude of noble ladies before their crowned relations, and others, was not unusual. Queens on the one hand, they were handmaidens on the other. When Queen Joan, aunt of the peccant King of Navarre and wife of Charles le Bel, and Queen Blanche her sister, widow of King Philip, lately dead, intercede by the mouth of Sir Reginald de Trie with the King of France for him of Navarre, they fall on their knees when their prayer is granted and their nephew graced. So, too, when the English Queen Isabella goes to her brother Charles for help against her husband, and they meet at Paris, she would have knelt, but he would not suffer it. Again she would have knelt, this time to Sir John de Hainault, at that time very young and panting for glory like a young knight-errant, when he took up her cause and offered her his help. But he caught her in his arms, saying, "God forbid the Queen of England should ever do such a thing!"

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Chivalry made three kinds of women -the licentious and gallant, like Eléonore de Guyenne, and the ladies of the courts of love; the warlike. such as those two Norman ladies, Eloise and Isabella, who assembled their vassals and rode through their respective armies, encouraging and assisting as they plundered and burned each other's estates and houses; and the noble, sweet, and stately ideal, like the Felys of romance and the Philippa of history-women who repeat Andromache and Alcestis,

the wife of Germanicus and the sister of Trajan. Of the first we have said enough, discussion not leading to edification. Of the second we will instance

only a few.

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In the first crusade bands of women went with the men- charming the seas to give them gentle pass"-to nurse the sick and wounded. Not content with this purely womanly work, in the second crusade, noble ladies, harnessed in armor of price and mounted on goodly steeds," went out to fight as best they might, exciting the men by their presence, and making death easier and retreat more dishonorable. The English victory over the Scots at Neville's Cross too was mainly due to the presence of Philippa, who so braced and fired her yeomen as to make them practically invincible. "Deeds of merit" were then almost exclusively feats at arms; and "in Edward III.'s time a lady held a manor by sergeantry to conduct the vanguard of the King's army as often as he should march into Wales with one, and on its return it was her duty to array the rear guard." The old romances give a curious picture of "le bel cavalier," the girl who, armed as a knight, fights the air and goes through all martial exercises in her own chamber, as a kind of safety-valve for her heroic spirit. Britomart and Clorinda are types of this class, and the Maid of Orleans was the culmination.

Black Agnes, the Countess of March, was again one of those martial dames whom nothing could daunt. She defended her lord's castle of Dunbar, attacked (1338) by William de Montagu, Earl of Salisbury, and was "worth more than any two men." When the battlements were stoned she bade her serving wench wipe off the dust with a kerchief; and she it was who made that grim joke when the Earl brought up the machine called the sow. Beware, Montagu, thy sow is about to farrow!" she cried, as a huge rock, rolled from the battlements, fell on the machine and destroyed it and most of those who were serving it. Those who were not killed outright, and who managed to crawl away on their hands and knees, she called "Montagu's pigs." When Salisbury's attempt to get into the castle by stratagem was defeated, Black Agnes from a high tower called after him,

"

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Farewell, Montagu, I intended that you should have supped with me tonight and have assisted me in defending this fortress against the English!" Truly a valiant dame, and doubtless of prime use in her lawless and rough generation.

Jane, Countess of Montfort, who, as Froissart says, had the courage of a man and the heart of a lion," was a more sympathetic personation than Black Agnes. She defended Hennebon, which Charles de Blois attacked. Jane de Montfort saw the arrival of the besiegers, and herself rang the watch-tower bell. Clad in mail and mounted on a goodly courser she rode through the streets," and if in the din of battle her woman's voice was sometimes drowned, nothing could mar her cheery smiles, which lighted the flame of noble chevisance in every gallant breast." She bade her maidens cut short their kirtles -a disputed passage :-" cut short their kirtles," or "tear up the roads" :-and carry stones and pots full of lime to the walls. Her courage was unconquerable. "She was equal to a man, for she had the heart of a lion," and, " with a trusty sharp sword in her hand she combated bravely." Her beauty was as irresistible as her courage. When she made her famous sally and had to retreat to Brest no picture in history is more inspiriting than that where her golden banners were seen glancing in the rays of the rising sun, as she rode back in triumph to her beleaguered city, with five hundred noble lances she had assembled in her defence. When all hope had gone the English came to her rescue and she was saved. She went down to meet her deliverers, Sir Walter Manny and his knights, and kissed them all two or three times, like a noble and valiant lady as she was.

Marzia, wife of the Lord of Forlì, was again a heroine of the same school. Betrayed by the old councillor and friend set to be her guardian in the absence of her husband, she rolled his head from the battlements as a present to the Papal troops besieging her. Then she herself "took up the helmet and cuirass and defended her castle as both captain and governor. She was defeated step by step, till at last, when her upper citadel was undermined, "and hung in air,' and hung in air,"

she yielded, stipulating for the safety of the four hundred vassals and soldiers who were with her, but for herself and her children asking nothing. The four hundred were graced; she and her children were thrown into prison.

Loveliest of all these warrior ladies, and loveliest of all the stories of love and chivalry. is that of the beautful Countess of Salisbury. She was besieged by the Scots in the Castle of Wark-her husband being away on the King's wars, as we have seen. "From the sweetness of her looks, and the charm of being encouraged by so beautiful a lady, one man, in time of need, ought to be worth two,' says Froissart. And apparently he was. The Countess was as a kind of goddess to the men defending her, and no one felt his service heavy, or cared for his life other than as her shield and buckler. When they wanted a trusty messenger to go to King Edward at Berwick, not one would agree to quit the defence of the castle or of the beautiful Lady in order to convey the message, and there was much strife among them.' At last Sir William Montacute, the captain, agreed to go. Passing safely through the Scottish camp on a wet night, when no one was about and the guard but ill kept, he met in the morning two Scots driving two oxen and a cow. He wounded the men severely and killed the cattle, so that they should not be taken to the camp, telling them to go and tell King David that William Montacute had passed through his army and had gone to seek for succor from the King of England, who was now at Berwick.

When the King arrived and relieved them, he fell madly in love at sight with the beautiful Countess. He stood at the window, looking out abstracted and silent. The Lady came to tell him that dinner was served; and in answer to her prayer to know what was amiss, he declared his love and asked its reward. She denies him, beseeching him not to require her to dishonor her own body and her husband, "who is so valyant a knyght and hath done your Grace so gode seruyce, and as yet lyeth in prison for your quarell." Then she leaves him, but after a time returns, bringing with her two knights, and praying him to come to dinner, saying, “Sir, yf it

me.

please you to come into the hall, your knyghtes abideth for you to wasshe, ye have been so long fastynge." On the second invitation he obeys, washes his hands, eats but little, and keeps silent. Oppressed and passion-tossed, he remains for the day and night, then leaves "to chase the Scots," saying he will return. "My dear lady," he says, as he goes, to God I comende you tyll I returne agayne, requiring you to aduyse you otherwise than ye have sayed to "Noble prince,' quoth the lady, God the father glorious be your conduct and put you out of all vylayne thoughts. Sir, I am and euer shall be ready to do your Grace seruyce to your honor and to myne. Therewith the King departed, all abashed. And, remembering him, in imitation of whose Round Table he had ordered his court and life, he conquered his passion as a noble man should when honor bids; and his self-restraint graced her whom he had vainly tempted more than his love had done.

Such women as these are they who beautify history, dignify all epochs, hallow all causes. Fountains of honor" in good sooth are they, creating the virtue they reward. And they are not special to time, nor to race, nor to creed. The world has never been without them; and among the frivolous and sensual, the worldly and the mean-spirited, they stand out as examples which forbid us to despair of the race, or to doubt of men when born of such mothers. Folly and vice may get the upper hand for a time, and Nana is a fact where the noble ladies of chivalry are the mere names of an effete movement and the emblems of things dead and done with. But deep down in the heart of humanity lies that fount of a pure and glorious womanhood-the true Eaux de Jouvence whence flows the salvation of the race. What though the sublime figures which move in calm and stately dignity through the pages of history are part mythic, part idealized-like living

lilies turned to stone-they are none the less exemplars for future generations. Between our modern light-o'-loves whom a royal smile can win to dishonor, who give their kisses without faith, and whose love has no truth, and the lady who for the sake of her lord in prison could deny the king who had saved her, there can be no hesitation of choice. Between, too, the revelations of the Divorce Court and the loves of Guenever and Sir Launcelot, of la beale Isond and Sir Tristram, unlawful as these were, there is a step as wide as from weakness to shame, from frailty to dishonor. Against the door of the nobly born lady who had sunk as low as some did sink

sunk low through vice, not love-foul words were written, and public dishonor was done her. Chivalry acknowledged no obligations to harlotry, and the lover of many was the scorned of all. So it was in the beginning and while the movement was pure and earnest. When it had become the purry pome" of affectation and pretence it fell to the ground, and the ripe fruit was rotten. The ideal of love became the reality of license, and the Black Death finished the play. But while it lasted, nowhere in history have we a lovelier woman than the high-born lady of chivalry-chaste in conduct; modest in bearing; courteous to her inferiors; gentle, and in noble wise submissive to her husband; loving with all her heart and strength and soul and body-loving and not ashamed to love; taking her part in the pains and difficulties of the times, and not demanding a life free of duties and abounding only in pleasures; obedient to the higher law, and as tender as she was strong, as pitiful as she was helpful; free in her own sphere, and her own sphere intersecting but not overlapping that of men; in very truth the lily among women-the stuff of which the Christian ideal was made in the Mary mother, maid divine" of her worship.— Fortnightly Review.

So little is known by the mass of English readers about the Congo Free State, and the great river from which it takes its name, that a few details may not be out of place here. Before Stanley had shown it to be the Lualaba, which Livingstone took for the headwaters of the Nile, the Congo was a mere name to people not connected with the ivory or oil trade; and even now, since the opening up, under the auspices of King Leopold of Belgium, of the great waterway into the heart of Africa, the vagueness of average ideas on the subject may be inferred from those of a certain gentleman who offered his services at the Brussels Bureau de L'Etat Indépendant du Congo, without even knowing where the Congo was; and, on his arrival at Boma, finding that he was appointed to the Upper River, and would have to march some 235 miles to reach it, would gladly have returned home again.

The Congo, then-if we look upon Livingstone's Luapula as the main stream, and not rather the Lualaba or Kamolondo (heard of but not seen by Livingstone, and called by him Young's River), which has its source, according to Capello and Ivens, in Katanga, about 8° south-rises, under the name of the Chambezi, in the Chibalé Hills, in the country of Mambwé, south of Lake Tanganika. It enters Lake Bangweolo -famous in connection with the great traveller's last wanderings-and leaves it again at its S. W. corner, as the Luapula, which flows north till it reaches Lake Moero, and then is supposed to take a N.W. course as far as Lake Lanji, where it joins the Lualaba from the S. W., but this region is still unexplored. After this-according to the curious African fashion of transferring to the main stream the name of every affluent which enters it-it is known as the Lualaba, and this name, or that of "Livingstone River," is commonly applied to its whole upper course, the changes in native nomenclature being too numerous and puzzling to follow.

From Lake Lanji the Lualaba flows (roughly speaking) first in a N.W. direction, past the Arab settlement of Nyangwé, and then due north, to the equator,

where it throws itself over the seven cataracts of Stanley Falls. Here, on an island at the foot of the lowest cataract, stood the Free State station, which was attacked by the Arabs in September 1886, as shall be related farther on.* North of the equator the Congo makes a great bend westward, crossing the line again in long. 18° E. For about a mile to the north-west of Stanley Falls, the river flows between high banks, but it then enters a large plain, some 500 miles in extent, and the width of its bed varies from 2 to 5 miles. It is so full of islands, that only at three or four points is an uninterrupted view obtained from bank to bank. The misleading statement (without mention of the islands) that both banks are seldom visible at the same time, has given rise to mistaken and exaggerated ideas of the size of the river. This great plain is covered for the most part with dense tropical jungle, abounding in rare and valuable forms of plant-life. Tree-ferns, and many varieties of orchids yet undescribed, are common, as well as the wild coffeeshrub, several kinds of plants yielding india-rubber, mahogany and other splendid timber-trees. At Iboko, on the northern bank (in lat. 2° N., long. 19° E.), is the station of Bangala (so called from the tribe inhabiting Iboko and the surrounding country), the farthest outpost of the Free State since the one at Stanley Falls was abandoned. At the equator is another Free State station (Equateurville), and also one belonging to the Livingstone Inland Mission; and at Lukolela, about 100 miles lower down, the Baptist missionaries have established themselves. About 150 miles below Lúkolela, the level banks rise into hills, and the stream becomes narrower, while its volume is increased by the influx of the Lawson River, and the mighty Kwa or Kassai, nearly as large as the main stream. Near the mouth of the Kassai

*This station is now to be re-established, with Hamed bin Mohammed, alias Tippu-Tib, as governor. The notes from which the above is compiled were written probably before the Emin Pasha Relief Expedition had left England, certainly before any news of it had reached the Upper Congo.

are two Roman Catholic mission stations one founded by the Société d'Alger, the other under the Société du St. Esprit. From here to Stanley Pool the scenery is much like that on the Rhine between Bonn and Mainz, though on a larger scale, and wanting the essential features of vineyards and ruined castles. As for the vineyards, they may come in time, as wild grapes have been discovered near the Kassai; but for my own part, I must say I prefer the Congo to anything the Rhine can show. The hills, covered with forest, or else with tall grass, increase in height till they are almost entitled to the name of mountains, and at the same time encroach upon the river-bed till, in Kimpoko Channel, it is so narrow that the current seems to have been, as it were, turned on edge to pass through it, and runs like a mill-race. Suddenly the ranges retreat on either hand, and, curving round to right and left, enclose the beautiful sheet of water known as Stanley Pool, with the green island of Bamu in the centre. The view is bounded on the right by Dover Cliffs, and far away to the left by a distant range of mountains. Close to the entrance of the Pool, on the left or south bank, is Kimpoko, where a Methodist mission has lately taken up its quarters; and at the other end, just at the point where the river leaves it, is Kinchassa, with the stations of the Free State and the Baptist Missionary Society. Opposite Kinchassa, on the northern bank, is the French port of Brazzaville.

**

Roundng Kallina Point, we enter the Ntamo Rapids, and come in view of the blue flag of the Etat Indépendant du Congo waving from the top of Mount Leopold. Léopoldville stands on the slope of the hill, half-way down-or stood, as I saw it on my arrival, for the station buildings have now been transferred to Kinchassa. The hillside was terraced, and planted with bananas and

*Readers of Stanley's "The Congo, and the Founding of its Free State," will remember how M. de Brazza, hearing that the explorer was on his way to Stanley Pool, hastened up and took possession of the right bank in the name of France. The French possessions now extend along the river from Manyanga to a point opposite Lukolela, and thence to the west coast, including the basins of the rivers Ogowé and Kwilu.

pine-apples-an avenue of the latter leading down to what was known as the "Port"'-in reality the shipbuilding and repairing yard, with three mud huts for stores and workshops. The platform on the top of the hill commands, on a clear day, one of the finest views on the Congo.

For some 230 miles below Stanley Pool, the river is unavailable as a means of communication, and the caravan road runs along the south bank, from Léopoldville to Matadi (" the rocks''), at the foot of the rapids. The road originally constructed by Stanley (when his engineering operations earned him, as is well known, the title of Bula Matadi, the Rock-breaker), was on the north bank, but has been given up, as the ground is rougher than on the other side. There is, however, a talk of its being resumed, especially as the country on the south side is now infested by bands of marauders, mostly deserters from the service of the State; caravans are frequently robbed, and carriers almost unattainable-in fact mails seem to be the only things that reach Léopoldville in safety, and these are very irregular.

Steamers run regularly between Matadi and Banana, at the mouth of the river (a distance of 110 miles), passing various mission and trading stations, the chief of which is Boma, on the north bank, which may be termed the capital of the Free State, since the Administrator-General has his offices there.

Banana was indeed a welcome sight when I arrived there after a six weeks' voyage from England, during which the Sao Thomé had called at Madeira, some of the Cape Verde Islands, Bolama (Bissao), Princes' Island, and St. Thomas. Standing out between the sea and river, its white roofs seemed specially clear and inviting after the ill-flavored Portuguese settlements we had been visiting. I landed in the usual fashion, being carried from the boat through the shallow water by two natives. The boat, by the by, was that belonging to the Congo Free State factory, and the "Kruboys" who manned her, dressed in neat uniforms, pulled steadily and in good time, to the tune of "One more river to cross!" This air is known to them as "Stanley song"-they or their predecessors having learned it from Bula Ma