The Sun.
London, England, 1856-05-05 00:00:00

us a family again." It was fated that this happy,
hopeful youth, the pride of his mother, the expec-
tation of his father, should be a perpetual blight
to the course of their latter life. He was to return
after two years' absence, when his brother's mar-
riage would have removed the awkwardness of his
position at home, but on that day other tidings
came. He had fallen into evil company abroad,
and in consequence of a quarrel had to hasten to
America. This was another blow to his parents ;
and they had to resign themselves, instead of rejoic-
ing at his return, to the prospect of a long exile. By
degrees the first sorrow faded and theygrew calmer.
John Halifax seemed to pass over the stirring cares
and excitement of his business life back to the
days of his youth. He had a reason for coin-
! posing himself from unnecessary strife, that the
' others knew not of. They were trusting to yet
more tranquil time for the future ; he was looking
back on the past as those only look who expect no
future below. " Happy, happy time—suushiny
summer, peaceful winter, we marked neither as
they passed ; but now we hold both in a sacredness
inexpressible, a foretaste of that land where there
is neither summer nor winter, neither days nor
years." The calm was broken by a new distress
concerning their wanderer. Guy was to have re-
turned, but no news could be obtained of the vessel
in which Le had sailed. A season of dreary watch-
ing followed, during which the mother's health
failed entirely. At last, without any warning, the
absent returned, the lost was found. He did not
come to a home of peace, however, for the strength
of Ursula had been too severely taxed for her to
rally. It was while contemplating this awful fact.
and wondering how it was that her husband did
not see it, that Phineas was informed by her hus-
band that his only fear was lest he should go first
himself. It is not possible to exaggerate the agony
thus caused to the faithful friend, who had looked
up to him as to a superior spirit all his life, and
who had always hoped to meet his kindness till the
last. John Halifax saw that he had supposed
truly that such intelligence would darken his
friend's course, and that he had done wisely in
withholding the news while possible. It would
have cast a shade over what had been a happy
time. He endeavoured, not to console him, but
rouse him. " Phineas, we have known one
another these forty years, Is our love, our faith so
small that either of us, for himself or his brother,
need be afraid of death ?" It was well that the
secret had been disclosed, for it was soon
after this that one evening, as the friends sat to-
gether, watching the sun set, as was their usual
custom, the "Master called away His faithful ser-
vant while he slept." This last conversation with
his long-tried companion and attached friend had
not been without avail, and Phineas Fletcher could
be calm, even while he gazed upon the corpse of
him who had been everything to him in life, and
whose death left him alone, in the sad evening of
existence, to mourn over one who had been the
only sunshine its morning had ever known, and
whose protecting streagth and gentle kindneas had
been as the shadow of a rock in the burden and
heat of the day. "Farewell John ! Farewell my
more than hrother ! It is but for a little while."
The sacred tie of friendship was tried by the last
test, and the affection that, notwitstauding so:no
clouds and tempests, was indelibly impressed on
the character of the family, underwent what is
here termed the " crowning consecration." It is
this solemnity and sadness, that redeems the narra-
tive, from being fanciful or imaginary in its feelings
and sentiments. The brilliancy of the hues of
romance are surpassed by the light of reason,
and the illuminated scroll of the ideal is put
aside, for a record with the superscription and sign-
manual of reality. In the page of life unfolded
before us half appears in shade and half in sun ;
there is nothing morbid nor exaggerated in sorrow
or joy, but the aim and end of human efforts are
made to appear iu a natural light. Whatever
inotives may influence or inspire it is not possible
that miracles can be effected, and so after his long
life of toil, and his many plans for the future,
John Halifax did not find all smooth and straight-
forward. This idea is explained elsewhere by the
same author as " the toiling of spirit against flesh,
the sort of work which, if anything could be counted
acceptable, will 'be so counted when, thank God,
the long day of life with all its labour is over for
eternity." In the present instance this struggle is
in a humble sphere of society, although John Hali-
fax rises comparatively high by his exertions at a
later period, but the principle is not for one class
or rank. The high sense of honour, the stern
spirit of self control, the kind heart, the daring
nature, were all displayed in his character, and the
same qualities and attributes would have rendered
him, iu a higher station, a bulwark to his
country in the hour of need, and a glory to
her annals in the records of history. The foun-
dations once laid of the pure and perfect, the
structure must be strong and lasting ; in the build-
ings not made with hands, which are designed in
the spirit and fashioned by the actions, the result
is the same. The formation of the character is a
work which has no limits, it is an endeavour that
can never be fully appreciated, and it contains
results of which no one can estimate the importance.
Hence it is not a mean or trivial subject brought
under notice, that of a noble nature fighting its
upward and onward way, from the snares of adver-
sity, through the curse of prosperity, to the van-
tage-ground that commands respect and admira-
tion. If the delineation of the grand in character,
the glorious in action, the tender in feeling, the
pure in heart, can confer merit, and bestow emi
nonce on a production, this ono must take its place
among the standard, and the excellent. It appeals
to the mind of the reader, in language that is ren-
dered sublime by the eloquence of truth, and that
worships the beautiful in the homage it pays to
virtue. It presents characters iu its chronicles
who are powerful to instruct and edify. If they
succeed, it is in a cause for which men will not
give them honour ; and if they fail they know that
their efforts were not directed in vain, as they
were planned in the spirit of heroism, and their
mission was to benefit themselves, by being a bless-
ing to others.

The Transcaucasian Campaign, of the Turkish
Army under Omer Pasha. A Personal Narra-
tive. By Laurence Oliphant. Blackwood and
Sous.

The author of this timely narrative of a rather
memorable episode in the late confused and dis-
astrous war between the Allies and Russia—is
really indefatigable. Indefatigable both as an
author, and as a traveller. Ho writes evidently
currente calamo—and that, moreover, in a different
sensefromtheoneordinarilyattachedtotheoldschool
phrase—in a twofold sense. Precisely as the moon
has a double motion (though Mr. Jelinger Symons
either can't or won't see it) revolving round the
sun all the while it is waltzing about the earth
with its face ever earthwards, as befits the cour-
tesy of so faithful a satellite [thereby producing obvi-
ously, and by necessity, out of those same two
movements an inevitable revolution upon its own
axis]—precisely, we say, as the moon has this wonder-
ful double motion about the sun and about the earth,
and consequently (because of its faithfulness to the
sun and its fickleness to the earth, about its
own axis—precisely we say as the moon has this
twofold motion, so has the industrious grey goose
quill of Mr. Laurence Oliphant, a twofold agility,
flying over the paper as the wielder of it flies
hither and thither over sea and land. Currente
ealamo therefore—with a duplex significance writes
the author of the " Journey to Nepaul," of the
" Russian Shores of the Euxine," of " Minnesota
and the Far West," and, " last but not least" of
all, of this timely personal narrative of the "Trans-
caucasian campaign of the Turkish army under
Omer Pacha." Timely—appearing as it has done
just after the laying of the papers relative
to the Defence and Capitulation of Kars
before Parliament, and just before the com-
mencement of the debates now agitating the
House of Commons, consequent upon the
somewhat memorable motion of the honourable
member for Enniskillen. The value of this im-
portant volume, appearing as it does at a p
singularly opportune, lies mainly in
the ed so
period
circum-
stance that it is penned by an eye-witness of the
various notable occurrences recounted in it. Au
eye-witness, too, as sagacious in judgment
vigilant in observation as the late Civil
and as
Secretary
and Superintendent-General of In Tian Affairs in
Canada—a literary traveller who has latterly as-
sumed a high place as an authority among Roving
Eneiishmen in an age which has given birth to a
Kinglake a Lavard, a Ruxton, a Walpole, and a
Warburton ! a.O
Very accept.e, therefore, we say
at once, is this personal inarrative, by Mr. Laurcnco
Oliphant, of the Transcaucasian eampai,..4u
of the Turkish Army, going forth too ]ate
to prevent the Fall of Kars, and arriv-
ing only in time to witm.si from afar off
the lamentable catastrophe of its Capitulation ! A
sad, woeful, deplorable tale—the tale of mismanage-
ment here told with a pen of inexorable truth !
The greatest crime among all the great crimes,
making up the grief of our remembrance of the
Russian war—the war begun so tardily and closed
so precipitately ! The conflict commenced in con-
fusion, and terminated in confusion worse con-
founded ! Kars—the one word of remorse to that
laborious. and, up to this point, eminently success-
ful, gifted, and energetic public servant, Stratford
C inniug, first Viscount Stratford de Redcliffe, dur-
ing fifteen years past her Britannic Majesty's Am-
bassador at Constantinople. Fortunately, during
these memorable fifteen years past, English Envoy
Extraordinary to the Ottoman Porte—fortu-
nately, we say, until this miserable and irre-
parable incident of the abandonment of Kars
to its evil fate--a fate which by a little reasonable