In some parts of the vast African continent, however, there seems to be an indistinct idea of a life after death, and when a great man dies, or is killed, his wives, and many of his slaves, are sacrificed for his future use, and vast human sacrifices are made annually in his honour, that the departed may hear, from time to time, of the welfare of those whom he has left behind. Feeling indisposed to regard this practice as the offspring of religious faith, I would compare it with the crude conceptions of some of the lowest class in Europe and America, aye, of some cultivated intellects as well, who profess to be able, by means of _media_, to communicate with the dead, or who send messages to their departed relatives by friends that are dying. The most remarkable development of this idea which I have yet met with has recently occurred in France, where a young man attempted to murder a beautiful young woman, to whom he was a total stranger, the reason he assigned being, that he intended to commit suicide immediately after the murder, so that he might enter the future world with a pleasant companion. We can scarcely regard the persons figuring in the following true story as being very much superior to the King of Dahomey. In a well-cared for English village a poor woman was about to die in the full odour of Protestant sanctity. In youth she had lost one leg, and now had disease in the other. To her came an old woman and said,--"I hear thou's goin' to dee Betty, and that thou's goin' to heaven--at least parson says so--when thou's got there, willee tell my owd man that I've just bought that field as he set his heart on." "Oh dear," said the dying woman, "how can I go stumping all about heaven with my legs in the state they're in." "Well, you can tell him at anyrate if you happen to see him go by!"