London to John Cf Groat's. 333 



as yet say Our with them with such a sentiment of 

 joint interest, when the histories, hopes, expansion and 

 capacities of that empire unroll their vista before him. 

 But the rains and the dews of a milder century are 

 falling upon this Border-land. The lava of spent 

 volcanoes that covered it is taking soil and seed of 

 green vegetation. The white lambs shall yet lie on 

 it in the sun. 



What a volume might be filled with the succinctest 

 history of the Border-lands of Christendom ! France 

 was intersected with them for centuries. Seemingly 

 they were as implacable and obdurate as any that 

 ever divided the British isle. Local patriotism wrote 

 poetry and shed blood voluminously to prevent the 

 fusion of these old landmarks of pigmy nationalities. 

 It took nearly a thousand years to complete the 

 blending ; to make the ice and the our of one great 

 consolidated empire the largest political sentiment of 

 the man of Normandy, Burgundy or Navarre. Long 

 and fierce, and seemingly endless was the struggle ; 

 but at last, on all these old obstinate boundaries of 

 hostile principalities, the white lambs lay in the sun. 



There are Border-lands now in the south and east 

 of Europe foaming and seething with the same an- 

 tagonisms of race and language ; and Christendom 

 is tremulous with their emotion. It is the same old 



