Again, in ascribing a certain influence to a certain party, we guarded our expressions by the word “conditionally,” which, however, our contemporary, with his usual candour, has chosen to overlook, and thus entirely altered our meaning. Our contemporary concludes his tirade by asking us what we mean by saying “that the balance of power would not be in the least disturbed by Russia’s taking possession of Timbuctoo.” Now, what will our readers think when we tell them that we made no such assertion? What we said was, that the balance of power would not be disturbed by Russia’s _occupying_ Timbuctoo, not possessing it, which difference of expression makes, we apprehend, a material difference in meaning. We supposed Russia occupying Timbuctoo as a friend, not possessing it as an enemy; and in this view of the case we repeat that the balance of power would in no ways be affected. We grant our contemporary’s conclusions, but deny his premises. With regard to our contemporary’s sneer at our political knowledge, we would reply by calling his attention to his own blundering articles--(see his incomprehensible article on the corn-laws, his interminable article on the poor-rates, his unintelligible article on free trade and the Kamschatka loan, &c. &c. &c.) The editor of the Patagonian may rest assured that he has much to learn in the science of politics, and much, too, that we could teach him, although it is no business of ours to enlighten his ignorance. C. SLIGHTED LOVE, FROM THE SPANISH, BY M. “--And this is poor Anselmo’s grave! Ah, Juan! say of what he died-- For he was young, was young and brave, Yet gentle as the cooing dove.”-- “He died, alas!”--and Juan sighed,-- “_He died, he died of slighted love_.” “--Poor youth!--And, Juan!--spake he aught Of what he felt, before he died?”-- “--He said that all his pains were nought Save one--of which he would not speak-- Alas! we had not far to seek For that:--it was the one dark thought Wherewith in vain his spirit strove-- _He died, he died of slighted love_.” “--And when Death hovered nearer still, What said he of his mournful fate?” “--That death was not so sharp an ill-- That Life, o’erdarkened by Despair, Was bitterer far than Death to bear; That rest awaits us in the tomb, Where Anguish sleeps with Love and Hate. Thus much he spake--and some were there Who wept aloud his early doom; But others knelt in silent prayer,-- And when they said that such as he Were flowers that GOD took up to bloom In Heaven, he smiled so thankfully! And raised his failing eyes above-- _He died, he died of slighted love_.”