soon to follow. On the 4th of April, 1862, New Orleans, the key of the lower Missis sippi fell into the hands of the enemy; and this being followed by the fall of Memphis, after a very inconsiderable defense, opened the whole of the river to the enemy, except a small portion intercepted between Vicksburg and Port Hudson, and everybody felt that the fall of these places involved but a question of time. This would open the navgation of the river to the Northwestern States, who, from the beginning of the contest, had been clamorous for it, and would bind them more fully to the prosecution of the war. We were already cut off from Mississippi, Arkansas, Louisiana, and Texas-the three former in the hands of the Yankees, beyond the hope of redemption, and the latter so completely isolated that she could render us no assistance whatever. And not only this, it left us a frontier from the mountains of Western Virginia to the Gulf of Mexico, three thousand miles in extent, accessible at all points, to be covered, and that with an army vastly reduced in numbers. For so long as we held the Mississippi the country west of it was safe from invasion, and consesequently we could hold the troops from those States for service with the armies on the east side of that river; but when it fell into the hands of the enemy, it became necessary to recall the larger portion of these troops from the east, while thousands of those who were left behind, believing their homes in danger, deserted, and found their way across the Mississippi never to return. The possession of the Mississippi by the enemy was the death-knell of the Confederacy, and from it began that series of disasters which resulted in the surrender at Appomatox Court House, and the overthrow, of free government on this continent. With it the last chance to retrieve our fortunes in the west had glided forever from our grasp, and all that was now left to the highest military skill of the General who commanded and those that followed after, with this overwhelming combination of disasters to fight against, and the inadequate means at their disposal, was, like the sailor, who, with the tenacity of death, clings to a sinking wreck, conscious the while he cannot save it, but is yet willing to brave the resistless ocean in his wrath to rescue what he can from his fury, and stands there a voluntary sacrifice to duty, until he too sinks beneath the angry billows. [TO BE CONTINUED.] From Saturday Review. IDOLS. ANTIQUARIES tell us that many supersti- | atry is not a sin of any one time or country, tions of heathen origin linger for centuries after the extinction of the parent mythology. The legend appropriate to some mythical hero is transferred to a Christian saint; the practice once intended as an act of worship of the old gods is retained long after its significance has been forgotten; and the spirit of idolatry survives, though it has to use another dialect and attach itself to new objects. No truth has a more accepted rank amongst the commonplaces of preachers. They are never weary of telling us that idol but that it is to be detected in thin disguises in the most civilized as in the rudest state of society. We do not fall down and worship a log of wood; but we do worship wealth, or fame, or position. The remark is a trifle stale, and perhaps the analogy is not quite perfect. The moral, however, is too good to be assailed; and it would be unfair to look too closely into the logic of sermons. Only we must remark that these modern idols are not, as we sometimes believed of the old ones, really diabolical instead of di vine; for no one now denies that a certain degree of money and reputation-worship is allowable, and indeed eminently respectable; the great difficulty of the preacher lies in defining to his audience the limits which divide a decent regard and proper respect from idolatrous veneration. The difficulty would be still greater in regard to another class of idols, upon which the preacher is perhaps less inclined to dwell, because he not unfrequently belongs to it himself. The closest approach to old-fashioned idolatry is to be found in the enthusiastic admiration cherished by young ladies and gentlemen for their spiritual teacher. The instinct which leads a savage to prostrate himself before an ugly image is transformed into the more refined sentiment which leads young | enthusiasts in our own time to swear by the great Brown or the immortal Jones. We have some difficulty in realizing the intense disgust which is felt by the uncivilized man when we convert his idols into firewood or treat his medicine-man with contempt. Yet it is very easy to provoke a strictly analogous outburst of fury. could be summarily executed, partly by way of gratifying the instinct of revenge, but still more to convince your antagonist that he is in the right; for it persecution does not alway sconvert its victims, it is undeniable that it has a wonderful effect in confirming the true believers. A man whom you have burnt for differing from you must obviously have been in the wrong. The existence of these amiable zealots who go about smiting hip and thigh every one who refuses to bow the knee to their particular Baal obviously corresponds to an indelible instinct, which may be worth a moment's examination. In religious questions it is comparatively intelligible. Every one feels it to be intolerable that in matters of such importance his profoundest convictions should be disputed. In a lower degree the same may be said of political questions. There is nothing more annoying to a philanthropist who has discovered in his own pet prophet the preacher of the true doctrine which will reform the world, than to find that his idol's authority is disputed. Certain ardent Radicals tell us that by applying Mr. Hare's scheme the great political problem of the day may be solved, and democratic pro minds. Knowing that he possesses the se-cret of an amulet, by the general use of which all social diseases may be expelled from the world, what can be more irritating than a repudiation of the magicians who have contrived it? The man who disputes the infallibility of Mr. Hare or Mr. Mill is simply beyond the pale of argument. He differs on first principles, and is an encumbrance upon the pro Tell a lady that her pet clergyman was probably plucked for his degree, that he does not know the date of the battle of Armaged-gress deprived of its terrors for cultivated don within a century or so, that he understands neither the persons he intends to refute nor the arguments which may really be brought against them; or point out to a youthful enthusiast from the Universities that his favorite philosopher has not summed up all that is really to be said on every side of every theological, political, and social question, and consider the temper in which your remarks are received. You cannot now be knocked on the head in the tem-gressive part of mankind. It is convenient ple which you have insulted, nor even be to have so simple a test as is supplied by a burnt at Smithfield; but your safety depends personal reputation which supercedes the simply upon the existence of an efficient po- necessity for further inquiry. Swear by the lice. You are not torn to pieces like the God of our idolatry, and we know you to be Christian who rashly invades a Mohamme- on our side; swear not, and take the consedan sanctuary, because the persecuting crowd quences. That is a far easier process than is not big enough, and because there is a plunging into general argument. But if the bigger one on the other side; partly, too, be- advantages of such a shibboleth are sufficause even fanatics have been imbued by ciently obvious in the party warfare of theolthis time with a certain tincture of toleration ogy or politics, if it is always useful to subin practice, if not in principle. But it is ob- stitute loyalty to a single leader for a genervious that it would be a real satisfaction to al sympathy with doctrine, the case is not the person to whom you have offered the so clear, where less stirring interests are ingross insult of a difference of opinion, if you | volved. Yet the tendency to idolatry is al most equally developed. A critic who rash- | That they could do so with comfort is a sufly points out shortcomings in any author ficient proof of the intense complacency who has succeeded sufficiently to form a produced by feeling one's self to be on the school of admirers is not merely mistaken, right side of the partition. In the present but grossly stupid, and probably malevolent state of society this intense stimulus is cominto the bargain. Mr. Ruskin, whose un-paratively faint. flinching idolatry of certain great names almost deserves that he should have himself become a popular idol, used to prove systematically that every one whose taste in art differed from his own was morally corrupt or on the high road to corruption. Dabblers in science either make Mr. Darwin into an old idol, or more frequently regard all who approve of him as next door to devil-worshippers; though no one could have done more than Mr. Darwin himself to escape from the uncomforable position of an idol. Even the smallest reputation may serve as a nucleus for a small sect of devoted worshippers. Mr. Sala, we know, thinks that every one who differs from his estimate of Miss Braddon's merits is a stupid, ignorant pedantic, priggish, hypocritical humbug-though we are sensible that, in trying to quote from memory, we do injustice to the vigor of his expressions. And by descending a step further we might doubtless discover a numerous, though obscure, band of worshippers who are continually exclaiming, "Great is Tupper of the Proverbial Philosophy!" A man who belongs to the orthodox creed in some small literary or political sect cannot believe that any severe penalty in this or the other world will be inflicted on those who differ from him. But, on the other hand, he possesses an admirable instrument for flattering his vanity, which increases in direct proportion to the smallness of the sect. The pleasantest thing, doubtless, is to be the idol yourself. To have a little knot of followers ready to swear that you are the one true poet or the one sagacious politician in the world is enough to turn the head of a better idol than most. But as this is only possible to a small number, the next best thing is to be the discoverer of the true object of worship. The more obscure and eccentric is the idol you have unearthed, the greater is the proof of your surpassing sagacity. One of the greatest possible pleasures at the present day is to belong to a very small, very noisy, and very obnoxious sect. To be universally pointed at as one whose theories tend to sap every social bond, as a person of the most dangerous and diabolical principles, is to enjoy the height of such felicity as can be obtained by the profession of doctrine. It might be going too far to join the Mormons, though something has been done even in this direction by a vigorous adversary of the merits of that despised sect. For persons moving in good society, it has rather too strong a flavor of its disreputable At the bottom of this system of extravagant idolatry there doubtless Hes a considerable amount of generous enthusiasm. There is something honorable about the zeal which leads us to sympathize with the ablest living defenders of our cause, and young men may be pardoned for sometimes forgetting the principles in the men. No party can dis-origin; and it is therefore better to catch pense with good hearty unreasoning loyalty the reflected glory from some idol with more to a person. But the bad side ot all idola- claims to intellectual refinement. Young try comes out as men grow older. It be- gentlemen, as befits daring spirits, will probcomes plainer that one great advantage in ably incline to some ornament of the irrehaving an idol is the consolation to one's ligious world; ladies will rather tend to one own vanity. In every creed there is an of the sects which can now so easily obtain undeniable comfort in believing that every the delightful reputation of being involved one who does not see with your eyes will in dark conspiracies against some of the insuffer for it. It is pleasant to belong to a stitutions of their country. To an ambition spiritual aristocracy with considerable priv- which does not soar so high, there is a path ileges. Sometimes, it is true, the penalties open through eccentricities of a humbler denounced upon all outsiders have been so kind. It is pleasant to see how a man can terrible that one would hardly believe that wrap himself in the consciousness of supeeven the elect would like to think of them.rior sagacity by taking up a poet or an artist weapon of defense against the more fashion able term of abuse. The final cause of this idolatry is obvious, whom no one else appreciates. It may be disputed whether it is best to select your idol on the ground that he is so obscure that no one else can understand him, or so im- and may diminish some of the prejudice with which we naturally regard it. No party of moral that no one else can venture to approve of him. In one case you show your from without. Its final ruin is always due any importance is satisfactorily crushed' singular acuteness; in the other, your supe- to assailants from within. A philosophy is riority to the vulgar conventionalities which hamper ordinary, minds. Enough credit thoroughly upset only by those who have can hardly be given in this point of view to once been subject to its influence, and lived the admirable nickname of Philistine which through them; they have learnt the trick of it by personal experience; they have unconhas lately become so popular. The essence of that name is the delicate attribution, to sciously tested it in the most effective way, every one who differs from you, of gross faith. They therefore can lead others out of by trying all its methods in sincerely good stupidity and a miserably narrow mind: and the labyrinth which they have explored to be able to express this sentiment in a word of three syllables, without giving just more carefully than any opponent can find cause of offense, is a remarkable triumph of patience to do. And hence we may hope that those idols which are really mere wood art. It is true that other persons may reply that you are a prig—that is, a person who and stone will be finally deserted by their arrogates special enlightenment to himself worshippers, and that none which rest upon on the ground of certain supposed intellect more genuine sources of power will be enual merits; but the name is coarse and old-tirely thrown away. They will never be in fashioned, and therefore a very ineffectual want of persons ready to give them a fair trial, and something more. MARCIA HOLMES. “MARCIA, you are wrong. Stop-reflect before you repeat those words again." Rex Veintmere lashed his well-fitting boots with a tiny riding whip, while he looked fixedly at his companion, as if for an answer. All around was the calm of a summer evening. A great stately house rose out of an ancient oak grove near, and from the old garden where they sat one could see the sinuous river fretting its blue way through the low meadow lands, while beyond were greyish hills, flecked here and there with gold from sun-bright clouds which winged their way through the clear steeps of ether like gorgeous birds. But the calm of nature was not in the hearts of the two who sat in the grape-vine shadows and drifting perfumes of the grand old garden at Waverly Grange. Marcia Holmes looked up from the purple clusters which stained her dainty finger tips straight into Rex Veintmere's half angry eyes, with a face that had generations of pride in it, and her voice was bitter-sweet, as only a woman's can be. "Mr. Veintmere, you surely have failod to understand the meaning of the words so obnoxious to you. Perhaps a repetition of them might enlighten you." The man raised his hand with an eager, deprecatory gesture. "Ah! you refuse then," she continued, with a half-smile on her lips, crimson as passionflower. "Rex-Rex! Truly a kingly name, and you would rule royally. See, I do you reverence." Marcia, rising, bowed her head in mock humility to her companion, and turned to leave. A white line of anger came about his lips, but he made answer as he touched her arm with a detaining hand. "Do not go just yet; you are piqued now. Perhaps I have been wrong all through; but remember the temptation. You do try me sorely, Marcia, and I am not a patient man. but I love you, and it tortures me to see you smile so sweetly on that conceited simpleton, Cliff Thornwell." An expression of bitter contempt curled his lip at mention of the hated name, but he calmed himself, and added tenderly, all his heart in his voice: “Come, Marcia, darling, promise to give over this foolish flirting, and we will be so happy again." He held out his hand with eager earnestness. Marcia hesitated a moment, as her lover's passionate face was lifted close to her own. Then his bitter, jealous words, spoken but an hour before, came back to her, and thrusting her heart under her anger, she step ped haughtily back. An expression of intense disappointment usurped the love in Rex Veintmere's eyes, but Marcia spoke coldly: "I think this interview has continued long enough, Mr. Veintmere, for it is clearly evident that we can never arrive at a mutual understanding. Your disposition is too exclusive, mine too proud, perhaps. We shall never agree. I could pardon your insane jealousy of Cliff-poor boy-did it not evidence lack of confidence in me." Rex essayed to speak, but she silenced him by a single gesture, and her voice softened into tones sweet as lily-bells when the May winds tinkle them into music, as she added "Our engagement has been a mistake all along, I fear, and it were better, perhaps, to sever it now." And Marcia slipped from her slender finger a heavy ring, bright with a diamond solitaire. Rex's eyes held a shuddering fright in their depths, and his voice came strained and hoarse through his lips, as Marcia tendered him the shining ring. “You are mad, Marcia Holmes. You are mine-my almost wife by a thousand promises. You do not mean what you say. Speak quickly-tell me that you do but jest." He held her hands close in his own, and all the manly beauty went out of his face, leaving it hard and pained, as Marcia replied, after a struggle to free her hands from his almost cruel grasp― "Do not mistake me further; I but speak the earnest truth. See, I throw the seal of our betrothal at your feet. Can you doubt now?” Rex ground his boot heel fiercely on the unconscious ring, glittering in the heavy grass, while Marcia stood before him in her glorious beauty, the passionate blue of Southern skies in her deep eyes, and the red gold of summer sunset in her hair. Rex gave a long searching look into the patrician face he loved better than life, but his lips were dumb. Marcia turned towards the house, and this time he did not detain her, but watched her graceful vanishing figure in sullen bitterness, until her white dress fluttered no longer among the trees. And through roseate flashes of azalia blooms and the white droop of royal lilies Rex Veintmere saw only one face, fair and proud and cold, while he muttered through teeth set hard— "A curse on my folly! She has all the Holmes' pride, and is angered beyond recall. A thousand curses on my jealous folly! Rex-Rex! They misnamed me. A king without a kingdom-Lay, a beggar rather— a Shacabac, whose future will prove a Barmecide feast indeed!" And out from the parlors floated music irritatingly sweet, and the voice he loved mingled with a rich tenor in the passionate strains of "Il Bacio." Rex Veintmere was as impetuous and jealous as a Spaniard. A lover's quarrel had lost him, in a brief hour, Marcia Holmes, the queenly woman he was to have called his bride in a few short months. She was proud, self-reliant, impatient of restraint, and his jealous suspicions had wounded her more deeply than even Rex should ever know. No wonder, then, that as he heard from the parlor Marcia's voice blending with that of his hated rival he flung himself on his horse and rode furiously from Waverly Grange. And that night Marcia Holmes, proud woman though she was, wept over the hopeless estrangement from the only man she had ever loved, while Rex Veintmere, in the privacy of his own room, vowed, with his characteristic impulsiveness, to leave home early |