CHAPTER XII.

As the company assembled in the drawing-rooms, Mr. Egerton introduced Randal Leslie to his eminent friends in a way that greatly contrasted the distant and admonitory manner which he had exhibited to him in private. The presentation was made with that cordiality, and that gracious respect by which those who are in station command notice for those who have their station yet to win.

"My dear Lord, let me introduce to you a kinsman of my late wife's (in a whisper)--the heir to the elder branch of her family. Stranmore, this is Mr. Leslie, of whom I spoke to you. You, who were so distinguished at Oxford, will not like him the worse for the prizes he gained there. Duke, let me present to you, Mr. Leslie. The duchess is angry with me for deserting her balls; I shall hope to make my peace, by providing myself with a younger and livelier substitute. Ah, Mr. Howard, here is a young gentleman just fresh from Oxford, who will tell us all about the new sect springing up there. He has not wasted his time on billiards and horses."

Leslie was received with all that charming courtesy which is the _To Kalon_ of an aristocracy.

After dinner, conversation settled on politics. Randal listened with attention and in silence, till Egerton drew him gently out; just enough, and no more--just enough to make his intelligence evident, without subjecting him to the charge of laying down the law. Egerton knew how to draw out young men--a difficult art. It was one reason why he was so peculiarly popular with the more rising members of his party.

The party broke up early.

"We are in time for Almack's," said Egerton, glancing at the clock, "and I have a voucher for you; come."

Randal followed his patron into the carriage. By the way, Egerton thus addressed him--

"I shall introduce you to the principal leaders of society; know them and study them; I do not advise you to attempt to do more--that is, to attempt to become the fashion. It is a very expensive ambition; some men it helps, most men it ruins. On the whole, you have better cards in your hands. Dance or not, as it pleases you--don't flirt. If you flirt, people will inquire into your fortune--an inquiry that will do you little good; and flirting entangles a young man into marrying. That would never do. Here we are."

In two minutes more they were in the great ball-room, and Randal's eyes were dazzled with the lights, the diamonds, the blaze of beauty. Audley presented him in quick succession to some dozen ladies, and then disappeared amidst the crowd. Randal was not at a loss; he was without shyness; or if he had that disabling infirmity, he concealed it. He answered the languid questions put to him, with a certain spirit that kept up talk, and left a favorable impression of his agreeable qualities. But the lady with whom he got on the best, was one who had no daughters out, a handsome and witty woman of the world--Lady Frederick Coniers.

"It is your first ball at Almack's, then, Mr. Leslie?"

"My first."

"And you have not secured a partner? Shall I find you one? What do you think of that pretty girl in pink?"

"I see her--but I cannot _think_ of her."

"You are rather, perhaps, like a diplomatist in a new court, and your first object is to know who is who."

"I confess that on beginning to study the history of my own day, I should like to distinguish the portraits that illustrate the memoir."

"Give me your arm, then, and we will come into the next room. We shall see the different _notabilites_ enter one by one, and observe without being observed. This is the least I can do for a friend of Mr. Egerton's."

"Mr. Egerton, then," said Randal,--(as they threaded their way through the space without the rope that protected the dancers)--"Mr. Egerton has had the good fortune to win your esteem, even for his friends, however obscure?"

"Why, to say truth, I think no one whom Mr. Egerton calls his friend need long remain obscure, if he has the ambition to be otherwise. For Mr. Egerton holds it a maxim never to forget a friend, nor a service."

"Ah, indeed!" said Randal, surprised.

"And, therefore," continued Lady Frederick, "as he passes through life, friends gather round him. He will rise even higher yet. Gratitude, Mr. Leslie, is a very good policy."

"Hem," muttered Mr. Leslie.

They had now gained the room where tea and bread and butter were the homely refreshments to the _habitues_ of what at that day was the most exclusive assembly in London. They ensconced themselves in a corner by a window, and Lady Frederick performed her task of cicerone with lively ease, accompanying each notice of the various persons who passed panoramically before them with sketch and anecdote, sometimes good-natured, generally satirical, always graphic and amusing.

By-and-by Frank Hazeldean, having on his arm a young lady of haughty air, and with high though delicate features, came to the tea-table.

"The last new Guardsman," said Lady Frederick; "very handsome, and not yet quite spoiled. But he has got into a dangerous set."

_Randal._--"The young lady with him is handsome enough to be dangerous."

_Lady Frederick_, (laughing.)--"No danger for him there,--as yet at least. Lady Mary (the duke of Knaresborough's daughter) is only in her second. The first year, nothing under an earl; the second, nothing under a baron. It will be full four years before she comes down to a commoner. Mr. Hazeldean's danger is of another kind. He lives much with men who are not exactly _mauvais ton_, but certainly not of the best taste. Yet he is very young; he may extricate himself--leaving half his fortune behind him. What, he nods to you! You know him?"

"Very well; he is nephew to Mr. Egerton."

"Indeed! I did not know that. Hazeldean is a new name in London. I heard his father was a plain country gentleman, of good fortune, but not that he was related to Mr. Egerton."

"Half-brother."

"Will Mr. Egerton pay the young gentleman's debts? He has no sons himself."

_Randal._--"Mr. Egerton's fortune comes from his wife, from my family--from a Leslie, not from a Hazeldean."

Lady Frederick turned sharply, looked at Randal's countenance with more attention than she had yet vouchsafed to it, and tried to talk of the Leslies. Randal was very short there.

An hour afterwards, Randal, who had not danced, was still in the refreshment room, but Lady Frederick had long quitted him. He was talking with some old Etonians who had recognized him, when there entered a lady of very remarkable appearance, and a murmur passed through the room as she appeared.

She might be three or four and twenty. She was dressed in black velvet, which contrasted with the alabaster whiteness of her throat and the clear paleness of her complexion, while it set off the diamonds with which she was profusely covered. Her hair was of the deepest jet, and worn simply braided. Her eyes, too, were dark and brilliant, her features regular and striking; but their expression, when in repose, was not prepossessing to such as love modesty and softness in the looks of woman. But when she spoke and smiled, there was so much spirit and vivacity in the countenance, so much fascination in the smile, that all which might before have marred the effect of her beauty, strangely and suddenly disappeared.

"Who is that very handsome woman?" asked Randal.

"An Italian--a Marchesa something," said one of the Etonians.

"Di Negra," suggested another, who had been abroad; "she is a widow; her husband was of the great Genoese family of Negra--a younger branch of it."

Several men now gathered thickly around the fair Italian. A few ladies of the highest rank spoke to her, but with a more distant courtesy than ladies of high rank usually show to foreigners of such quality as Madame di Negra. Ladies of a rank less elevated seemed rather shy of her;--that might be from jealousy. As Randall gazed at the Marchesa with more admiration than any woman, perhaps, had before excited in him, he heard a voice near him say--

"Oh, Madame di Negra is resolved to settle amongst us, and marry an Englishman."

"If she can find one sufficiently courageous," returned a female voice.

"Well, she is trying hard for Egerton, and he has courage enough for any thing."

The female voice replied with a laugh, "Mr. Egerton knows the world too well, and has resisted too many temptations, to be--"

"Hush!--there he is."

Egerton came into the room with his usual firm step and erect mien. Randal observed that a quick glance was exchanged between him and the Marchesa; but the Minister passed her by with a bow.

Still Randal watched, and, ten minutes afterwards, Egerton and the Marchesa were seated apart in the very same convenient nook that Randal and Lady Frederick had occupied an hour or so before.

"Is this the reason why Mr. Egerton so insultingly warns me against counting on his fortune?" muttered Randal. "Does he mean to marry again?"

Unjust suspicion!--for, at that moment these were the words that Audley Egerton was dropping forth from his lips of bronze--

"Nay, dear Madam, do not ascribe to my frank admiration more gallantry that it merits. Your conversation charms me, your beauty delights me; your society is as a holiday that I look forward to in the fatigues of my life. But I have done with love, and I shall never marry again."

"You almost pique me into trying to win, in order to reject you," said the Italian, with a flash from her bright eyes.

"I defy even you," answered Audley, with his cold hard smile. "But to return to the point: You have more influence at least over this subtle Ambassador; and the secret we speak of I rely on you to obtain me. Ah, Madam, let us rest friends. You see I have conquered the unjust prejudice against you; you are received and _feted_ every where, as becomes your birth and your attractions. Rely on me ever, as I on you. But I shall excite too much envy if I stay here longer, and am vain enough to think that I may injure you if I provoke the gossip of the ill-natured. As the avowed friend, I can serve you--as the supposed lover, No--" Audley rose, as he said this, and, standing by the chair, added carelessly, "Apropos, the sum you do me the honor to borrow will be paid to your bankers to-morrow."

"A thousand thanks!--my brother will hasten to repay you."

Audley bowed. "Your brother, I hope, will repay me in person, not before. When does he come?"

"Oh, he has again postponed his visit _to_ London; he is so much needed in Vienna. But while we are talking of him, allow me to ask if Lord L'Estrange is indeed still so bitter against that poor brother of mine?"

"Still the same!"

"It is shameful," cried the Italian with warmth; "what has my brother ever done to him, that he should intrigue against the Count in his own court?"

"Intrigue! I think you wrong Lord L'Estrange; he but represented what he believed to be the truth, in defence of a ruined exile."

"And you will not tell me where that exile is, or if his daughter still lives?"

"My dear Marchesa, I have called you friend, therefore, I will not aid L'Estrange to injure you or yours. But I call L'Estrange a friend also; and I cannot violate the trust that--" Audley stopped short, and bit his lip. "You understand me," he resumed, with a genial smile, and took his leave.

The Italian's brows met as her eye followed him; then, as she too rose, that eye encountered Randal's. Each surveyed the other--each felt a certain strange fascination--a sympathy--not of affection, but of intellect.

"That young man has the eye of an Italian," said the Marchesa to herself; and as she passed by him into the ball-room, she turned and smiled.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Continued from page 557, vol. iii.

[9] If, at the date in which Lord L'Estrange held this conversation with Mr. Egerton, Alfred de Musset had written his comedies, we should suspect that his lordship had plagiarized from one of them the whimsical idea that he here vents upon Audley. In repeating it, the author at least cannot escape from the charge of obligation to a writer whose humor, at least, is sufficiently opulent to justify the loan.

From the London Examiner.

IMAGINARY CONVERSATION AT WARSAW.

NICHOLAS AND NESSELRODE.

BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

_Nicholas._--God fights for us visibly. You look grave, Nesselrode! is it not so? Speak, and plainly.

_Nesselrode._--Sire, in my humble opinion, God never fights at all.

_Nicholas._--Surely he fought for Israel, when he was invoked by prayer.

_Nesselrode._--Sire, I am no theologian; and I fancy I must be a bad geographer, since I never knew of a nation which was not Israel when it had a mind to shed blood and to pray. To fight is an exertion, is violence; the Deity in His omnipotence needs none. He has devils and men always in readiness for fighting; and they are the instruments of their own punishment for their past misdeeds.

_Nicholas._--The chariots of God are numbered by thousands in the volumes of the Psalmist.

_Nesselrode._--No psalmist, or engineer, or commissary, or arithmetician, could enumerate the beasts that are harnessed to them, or the fiends that urge them on.

_Nicholas._--Nesselrode! you grow more and more serious.

_Nesselrode._--Age, sire, even without wisdom, makes men serious whether they are inclined or not. I could hardly have been so long conversant in the affairs of mankind (all which in all quarters your majesty superintends and directs) without much cause for seriousness.

_Nicholas._--I feel the consciousness of Supreme Power, but I also feel the necessity of subordinate help.

_Nesselrode._--Your majesty is the first monarch, since the earlier Caesars of Imperial Rome, who could control, directly or indirectly, every country in our hemisphere, and thereby in both.

_Nicholas._--There are some who do not see this.

_Nesselrode._--There were some, and they indeed the most acute and politic of mankind, who could not see the power of the Macedonian king until he showed his full height upon the towers of Cheronoea. There are some at this moment in England who disregard the admonitions of the most wary and experienced general of modern times, and listen in preference to babblers holding forth on economy and peace from slippery sacks of cotton and wool.

_Nicholas._--Hush! hush! these are our men; what should we do without them? A single one of them in the parliament or town-hall is worth to me a regiment of cuirassiers. These are the true bullets with conical heads which carry far and sure. Hush! hush!

_Nesselrode._--They do not hear us: they do not hear Wellington: they would not hear Nelson were he living.

_Nicholas._--No other man that ever lived, having the same power in his hands, would have endured with the same equanimity as Wellington, the indignities he suffered in Portugal; superseded in the hour of victory by two generals, one upon another, like marsh frogs; people of no experience, no ability. He might have become king of Portugal by compromise, and have added Gallicia and Biscay.

_Nesselrode._--The English, out of parliament, are delicate and fastidious. He would have thought it dishonorable to profit by the indignation of his army in the field, and of his countrymen at home. Certainty that Bonaparte would attempt to violate any engagement with him might never enter into the computation; for Bonaparte could less easily drive him again out of Portugal than he could drive the usurper out of Spain. We ourselves should have assisted him actively; so would the Americans; for every naval power would be prompt at diminishing the preponderance of the English. Practicability was here with Wellington; but, endowed with it a keener and a longer foresight than any of his contemporaries, he held in prospective the glory that awaited him, and felt conscious that to be the greatest man in England is somewhat more than to be the greatest in Portugal. He is universally called _the_ duke; to the extinction or absorption of that dignity over all the surface of the earth: in Portugal he could only be called king of Portugal.

_Nicholas._--Faith! that is little: it was not overmuch even before the last accession. I admire his judgment and moderation. The English are abstinent: they rein in their horses where the French make them fret and curvett. It displeases me to think it possible that a subject should ever become a sovran. We were angry with the Duke of Sudermania for raising a Frenchman to that dignity in Sweden, although we were willing that Gustavus, for offences and affronts to our family, should be chastized, and even expelled. Here was a bad precedent. Fortunately the boldest soldiers dismount from their chargers at some distance from the throne. What withholds them?

_Nesselrode._--Spells are made of words. The word _service_ among the military has great latent negative power. All modern nations, even the free, employ it.

_Nicholas._--An excellent word indeed! It shows the superiority of modern languages over ancient; Christian ideas over pagan; living similitudes of God over bronze and marble. What an escape had England from her folly, perversity, and injustice! Her admirals had the same wrongs to avenge: her fleets would have anchored in Ferrol and Coruna; thousands of volunteers from every part of both islands would have assembled round the same standard; and both Indies would have bowed before the conqueror. Who knows but that Spain herself might have turned to the same quarter, from the idiocy of Ferdinand, the immorality of Joseph, and the perfidy of Napoleon?

_Nesselrode._--England seems to invite and incite, not only her colonies, but her commanders, to insurrection. Nelson was treated even more ignominiously than Wellington. A man equal in abilities and in energy to either met with every affront from the East India Company. After two such victories in succession as the Duke himself declared before the Lords that he had never known or read of, he was removed from the command of his army, and a general by whose rashness it was decimated was raised to the peerage. If Wellington could with safety have seized the supreme power in Portugal, Napier could with greater have accomplished it in India. The distance from home was farther; the army more confident; the allies more numerous, more unanimous. One avenger of _their_ wrongs would have found a million avengers of _his_. Affghanistan, Cabul, and Scinde, would have united their acclamations on the Ganges: songs of triumph, succeeded by songs of peace, would have been chanted at Delhi, and have re-echoed at Samarcand.

_Nicholas._--I am desirous that Persia and India should pour their treasures into my dominions. The English are so credulous as to believe that I intend, or could accomplish, the conquest of Hindostan. I want only the commerce; and I hope to share it with the Americans; not I indeed, but my successors. The possession of California has opened the Pacific and the Indian seas to the Americans, who must, within the life-time of some now born, predominate in both. Supposing that emigrants to the amount of only a quarter of a million settle in the United States every year, within a century from the present day, their population must exceed three hundred millions. It will not extend from pole to pole, only because there will be room enough without it.

_Nesselrode._--Religious wars, the most sanguinary of any, are stifled in the fields of agriculture; creeds are thrown overboard by commerce.

_Nicholas._--Theological questions come at last to be decided by the broadsword; and the best artillery brings forward the best arguments. Montecuculi and Wallenstein were irrefragable doctors. Saint Peter was commanded to put up his sword; but the ear was cut off first.

_Nesselrode._--The blessed saint's escape from capital punishment, after this violence, is among the greatest of miracles. Perhaps there may be a perplexity in the text. Had he committed so great a crime against a person so highly protected as one in the high-priest's household, he never would have lived long enough to be crucified at Rome, but would have carried his cross up to Calvary three days after the offence. The laws of no country would tolerate it.

_Nicholas._--How did he ever get to Rome at all? He must have been conveyed by an angel, or have slipt on a sudden into a railroad train, purposely and for the nonce provided. There is a controversy at the present hour about his delegated authority, and it appears to be next to certain that he never was in the capital of the west. It is my interest to find it decided in the negative. Successors to the emperors of the east, who sanctioned and appointed the earliest popes, as the bishops of Rome are denominated, I may again at my own good time claim the privilege and prerogative. The cardinals and their subordinates are extending their claws in all directions: we must throw these crabs upon their backs again.

_Nesselrode._--Some among the Italians, and chiefly among the Romans, are venturing to express an opinion that there would be less of false religion, and more of true, if no priest of any description were left upon earth.

_Nicholas._--Horrible! unless are exempted those of the venerable Greek church. All others worship graven images: we stick to pictures.

_Nesselrode._--One scholar mentioned, not without an air of derision, that a picture had descended from heaven recently on the coast of Italy.

_Nicholas._--Framed? varnisht? under glass? on panel? on canvas? What like?

_Nesselrode._--The Virgin Mary, whatever made of.

_Nicholas._--She must be ours then. She missed her road: she never would have taken her place among stocks and stones and blind worshipers. Easterly winds must have blown her toward a pestilential city, where at every street-corner is very significantly inscribed its true name at full length, _Immondezzaio_. But I hope I am guilty of no profaneness or infidelity when I express a doubt if every picture of the Blessed Virgin is sentient; most are; perhaps not every one. If they want her in England, as they seem to do, let them have her ... unless it is the one that rolls the eyes: in that case I must claim her: she is too precious by half for papist or tractarian. I must order immediately these matters. No reasonable doubt can be entertained that I am the visible head of Christ's church. Theologians may be consulted in regard to St. Peter, and may discover a manuscript at Novgorod, stating his martyrdom there, and proving his will and signature.

_Nesselrode._--Theologians may find perhaps in the _Revelations_ some Beast foreshadowing your Majesty.

_Nicholas._--How? sir! how?

_Nesselrode._--Emperors and kings, we are taught, are designated as great beasts in the Holy Scriptures ... (_Aside_) ... and elsewhere.

SECOND CONVERSATION.

_Nicholas._--We have disposed of our brother, his Prussian Majesty, who appeared to be imprest by the apprehension that a portion of his dominions was in jeopardy.

_Nesselrode._--Possibly the scales of Europe are yet to be adjusted.

_Nicholas._--When the winds blow high they must waver. Against the danger of contingencies, and in readiness to place my finger on the edge of one or other, it is my intention to spend in future a good part of my time at Warsaw, that city being so nearly central in my dominions. Good Nesselrode! there should have been a poet near you to celebrate the arching of your eyebrows. They suddenly dropt down again under the horizontal line of your Emperor's. Nobody ever stared in my presence; but I really do think you were upon the verge of it when I inadvertently said _dominions_ instead of _dependencies_. Well, well: dependencies are dominions; and of all dominions they require the least trouble.

_Nesselrode._--Your Majesty has found no difficulty with any, excepting the Circassians.

_Nicholas._--The Circassians are the Normans of Asia; equally brave, more generous, more chivalrous. I am no admirer of military trinkets; but I have been surprised at the beauty of their chain-armor, the temper of their swords, the richness of hilt, and the gracefulness of baldric.

_Nesselrode._--It is a pity they are not Christians and subjects of your Majesty.

_Nicholas._--If they would become my subjects, I would let them, as I have let other Mahometans, become Christians at their leisure. We must brigade them before baptism.

_Nesselrode._--It is singular that this necessity never struck those religious men who are holding peace conferences in various parts of Europe.

_Nicholas._--One of them, I remember, tried to persuade the people of England that if the bankers of London would negotiate no loan with me I could carry on no war.

_Nesselrode._--Wonderful! how ignorant are monied men of money matters. Your Majesty was graciously pleased to listen to my advice when hostilities seemed inevitable. I was desirous of raising the largest loan possible, that none should be forthcoming to the urgency of others. At that very moment your Majesty had in your coffers more than sufficient for the additional expenditure of three campaigns. Well may your Majesty smile at this computation, and at the blindness that suggested it. For never will your Majesty send an army into any part of Europe which shall not maintain itself there by its own prowess. Your cavalry will seize all the provisions that are not stored up within the fortresses; and in every army those are to be found who for a few thousand roubles are ready to blow up their ammunition-wagons. We know by name almost every discontented man in Europe.

_Nicholas._--To obtain this information, my yearly expenses do not exceed the revenues of half a dozen English bishops. Every _table-d'hote_ on the continent, you tell me, has one daily guest sent by me. Ladies in the higher circles have taken my presents and compliments, part in diamonds and part in smiles. An emperor's smiles are as valuable to them as theirs are to a cornet of dragoons. Spare nothing in the boudoir and you spare much in the field.

_Nesselrode._--Such appears to have been the invariable policy of the Empress Catharine, now with God.

_Nicholas._--My father of glorious memory was less observant of it. He had prejudices and dislikes; he expected to find every body a gentleman, even kings and ministers. If they were so, how could he have hoped to sway them? and how to turn them from the strait road into his?

_Nesselrode._--Your Majesty is far above the influence of antipathies; but I have often heard your Majesty express your hatred, and sometimes your contempt, of Bonaparte.

_Nicholas._--I hated him for his insolence, and I despised him alike for his cowardice and falsehood. Shame is the surest criterion of humanity. When one is wanting, the other is. The beasts never indicate shame in a state of nature; in society some of them acquire it; Bonaparte not. He neither blushed at repudiating a modest woman, nor at supplanting her by an immodest one. Holding a pistol to the father's ear, he ordered him to dismount from his carriage; to deliver up his ring, his watch, his chain, his seal, his knee-buckle; stripping off galloon from trouser, and presently trouser too: caught, pinioned, sentenced, he fell on both knees in the mud, and implored this poor creature's intercession to save him from the hangman. He neither blushed at the robbery of a crown nor at the fabrication of twenty. He was equally ungrateful in public life and in private. He banished Barras, who promoted and protected him: he calumniated the French admiral, whose fleet for his own safety he detained on the shores of Egypt, and the English admiral who defeated him in Syria with a tenth of his force. Baffled as he often was, and at last fatally, and admirably as in many circumstances he knew how to be a general, never in any did he know how to be a gentleman. He was fond of displaying the picklock keys whereby he found entrance into our cabinets, and of twitching the ears of his accomplices.

_Nesselrode._--Certainly he was less as an emperor than as a soldier.

_Nicholas._--Great generals may commit grievous and disastrous mistakes, but never utterly ruinous. Charles V., Gustavus Adolphus, Peter the Great, Frederic of Prussia, Prince Eugene, Marlborough, William, Wellington, kept their winnings, and never hazarded the last crown-piece. Bonaparte, when he had swept the tables, cried _double or quits_.

_Nesselrode._--The wheel of Fortune is apt to make men giddier, the higher it rises and the quicklier it turns: sometimes it drops them on a barren rock, and sometimes on a treadmill. The nephew is more prudent than the uncle.

_Nicholas._--You were extremely wise, my dear Nesselrode, in suggesting our idea to the French President, and in persuading him to acknowledge in the face of the world that he had been justly imprisoned by Louis Philippe for attempting to subvert the existing powers. Frenchmen are taught by this declaration what they may expect for a similar crime against his own pretensions. We will show our impartiality by an equal countenance and favor toward all parties. In different directions all are working out the design of God, and producing unity of empire "on earth as it is in heaven." Until this consummation there can never be universal or indeed any lasting peace.

_Nesselrode._--This, lying far remote, I await your Majesty's commands for what is now before us. Your Majesty was graciously pleased to express your satisfaction at the manner in which I executed them in regard to the President of the French Republic.

_Nicholas._--Republic indeed! I have ordered it to be a crime in France to utter this odious name. President forsooth! we have directed him hitherto; let him now keep his way. Our object was to stifle the spirit of freedom: we tossed the handkerchief to him, and he found the chloroform. Every thing is going on in Europe exactly as I desire; we must throw nothing in the way to shake the machine off the rail. It is running at full speed where no whistle can stop it. Every prince is exasperating his subjects, and exhausting his treasury in order to keep them under due control. What nation on the continent, mine excepted, can maintain for two years longer its present war establishment? And without this engine of coercion what prince can be the master of his people? England is tranquil at home; can she continue so when a foreigner would place a tiara over her crown, telling her who shall teach and what shall be taught. Principally, that where masses are not said for departed souls, better it would be that there were no souls at all, since they certainly must be damned. The school which doubts it is denounced as godless.

_Nesselrode._--England, sire, is indeed tranquil at home; but that home is a narrow one, and extends not across the Irish channel. Every colony is dissatisfied and disturbed. No faith has been kept with any of them by the secretary now in office. At the Cape of Good Hope, innumerable nations, warlike and well-armed, have risen up simultaneously against her; and, to say nothing of the massacres in Ceylon, your Majesty well knows what atrocities her Commissioner has long exercised in the Seven Isles. England looks on and applauds, taking a hearty draught of Lethe at every sound of the scourge.

_Nicholas._--Nesselrode! You seem indignant. I see only the cheerful sparks of a fire at which our dinner is to be dressed; we shall soon sit down to it; Greece must not call me away until I rise from the dessert; I will then take my coffee at Constantinople. The crescent ere long will become the full harvest-moon. Our reapers have already the sickles in their hands.

_Nesselrode._--England may grumble.

_Nicholas._--So she will. She is as ready now to grumble as she formerly was to fight. She grumbles too early; she fights too late. Extraordinary men are the English. They raise the hustings higher than the throne; and, to make amends, being resolved to build a new palace, they push it under an old bridge. The Cardinal, in his way to the Abbey, may in part disrobe at it. Noble vestry-room! where many habiliments are changed. Capacious dovecote! where carrier-pigeons and fantails and croppers, intermingled with the more ordinary, bill and coo, ruffle and smoothen their feathers, and bend their versicolor necks to the same corn.

From Bentley's Miscellany for July.

LONDON, PARIS, AND NEW-YORK.

Standing in the City Hall, New-York, and drawing from that point a circle whose radius shall be three miles, we embrace a population of three-quarters of a million. We say this at the outset, by way of securing respect for our theme.

New-York is a mere Jonah's gourd or Jack the Giant-killer's beanstalk compared with London. London was London when St. Paul was a prisoner in Rome, ten years before the destruction of Jerusalem. Sixteen hundred years afterwards, when New-York was but just named, London lost some seventy thousand inhabitants by the plague, and more than thirteen thousand houses by the Great Fire, and hardly missed them.

Before this period, however, the little Dutch town of Niew Amsterdam, called by the aborigines Manahatta, or Manhattan, had commenced a dozing existence, under the government of Walter the Doubter and Peter the Headstrong, celebrated by that great chronicler, Diedrich Knickerbocker. Some consider this a mythic period, and class the legends of Wilhelmus Van Kieft's wisdom, and Peter Stuyvesant's valor, with the stories of Romulus and Remus, and the Horatii and Curiatii. But to cast any doubt upon a historian like Knickerbocker--the Grote of colonial history--at once minute and philosophical, just and enthusiastic--is surely unwise. His picture of the portly burghers of Niew Amsterdam, their habits and manners, pursuits, politics, and laws, is verified by the impress left on their descendants. All the foreign floods that have swept over the city have not been able to wash out the footsteps of the original settlers; and Walter the Doubter and Peter the Headstrong still figure, it is said, in the Assembly of the City Fathers, though the voluminous nether habiliments, which characterized them of old, have dwindled to the modern pantaloon.

Casting our eyes backward for a moment, let us imagine the condition of things before English innovation had interfered with the quiet current of Dutch ideas in the metropolis of the West. "The modern spectator," says our historian, "who wanders through the streets of this populous city, can scarcely form an idea of their appearance in the primitive days of the Doubter. The grass grew quietly in the highways; bleating sheep and frolicksome calves sported about that verdant ridge where now the Broadway loungers take their morning stroll. The cunning fox and ravenous wolf skulked in the woods where now are to be seen the dens of the righteous fraternity of money-brokers. The houses of the higher class were generally constructed of wood, excepting the gable end, which was of small black and yellow Dutch bricks, and always faced the street. The house was always furnished with abundance of large doors, and small windows on every floor; the date of its erection was curiously designated by iron figures on the front, and on the top of the roof was perched a fierce weathercock, to let the family know which way the wind blew. The front door was never opened, except on marriages, funerals, New Year's days, the festival of St. Nicholas, or some such great occasion * * *. A passion for cleanliness was the leading principle in domestic economy. The whole house was constantly in a state of inundation, under the discipline of mops and brooms, and scrubbing-brushes; and the good housewives of that day were a kind of amphibious animal, delighting exceedingly to be dabbling in water; insomuch, that many of them grew to have webbed fingers like a duck. In those happy days a well-regulated family always rose with the dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed at sundown. Fashionable parties were confined to the higher class, or _noblesse_; that is to say, such as kept their own cows or drove their own wagons. The company commonly assembled at three o'clock, and went away about six; unless it was winter-time, when the fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might get home before dark. At these tea-parties the utmost propriety and dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting or coquetting; no gambling of old ladies, nor chattering and romping of young ones; no self-satisfied strutting of wealthy gentlemen with their brains in their pockets," &c.

Speaking further of the ladies, Mr. Knickerbocker says: "Their hair, untortured by the abominations of art, was scrupulously pomatumed back from their foreheads with a candle, and covered with a little cap of quilted calico. Their petticoats of linsey-woolsey, were striped with a variety of gorgeous dyes, and all of their own manufacture. These were the honest days, in which every woman stayed at home, read the Bible, and wore pockets, and that too of a goodly size, fashioned with patch-work of many curious devices, and ostentatiously worn on the outside. Every good housewife made the clothes of her husband and family," &c.

Such and so homely was the germ of the present goodly town that sits, like a queen, throned between two mighty streams, with a magnificent bay at her feet. Marks of her Dutch origin were numerous a few years since, and are still to be found, though sparely. Of the national customs enumerated and described by the veracious Diedrich, we find at the present day but few. The last of the gable-fronted houses, with curious steps in the brickwork on the sides of the peak, disappeared some years since. Calves never frisk in Broadway now, though they sometimes pass through it tied in carts, in defiance of humanity and decency. The year of building is no longer written in iron on the fronts of the houses, for

"Panting Time toils after us in vain,"

and chronology is out of date. Large doors have now large windows to keep them company, and weather-cocks are rendered unnecessary by the arrival of vessels from some part of the earth with every wind that blows. The front door is now opened to every body but the master of the house, who goes out of it in the morning not to see it again till evening. The practice of daily inundation is now nearly limited to the street, since Kidderminster, Brussels, and Wilton, conspire to cover every inch of floor; but the annual house-cleaning is still in full vogue, and no amount of slop, discomfort, destruction, and self-sacrifice, is considered too great in the accomplishment of this civic festival. As to rising with the dawn, the citizen of to-day considers breakfast-time daybreak; and the dinner-hour is as various as the fluctuations of business and pleasure. "Fashionable society" has, at present, no very decided limits, as few of the inhabitants keep a cow, and many of the highest pretenders to _bon ton_ do not drive their own wagons--getting home before dark! New-York ladies make a point of getting home before light; and if they assemble at three o'clock it is for a _dejeuner_, or a _matinee dansante_. As for Mr. Knickerbocker's further characterization of the genteel manners of the olden time, it would be unhandsome in us to pursue our counter-picture; but this we will say, in mere justice, and all joking aside, that there are no gambling ladies in New-York, either young or old.

Thinking of New-York in her early life, we were about to say that from 1614 to 1674 she was a mere shuttlecock between the Dutch and English; but the recollection that neither of the contending parties ever tossed her towards the other, spoiled our figure, and we find her more like the unfortunate baby whom it took all Solomon's wisdom to save from utter destruction between rival mothers. The Dutch certainly had the prior claim; but that circumstance, though something in a case of maternity, seems far from conclusive in the matter of adoption. The little Dutch city had accumulated a thousand inhabitants, and wrenched from the home government leave to govern itself, by the aid of a schout, burgomasters, and schepens, when King Charles II., of pious memory, coolly gave a grant of the entire province to his brother James, Duke of York, who forthwith proved his right (that of the strongest), and put an English governor in place of Peter Stuyvesant, called by Knickerbocker, "a tough, valiant, sturdy, weather-beaten, mettlesome, obstinate, leathern-sided, lion-hearted, generous-spirited old governor," who nearly burst with rage when obliged to sign the capitulation, and who finished by dying of sheer mortification on hearing that the combined English and French fleets had beaten the Dutch under De Ruyter. Nine years after, the tables were turned, and Dutch rule once more brought in sour-krout and oly-koeks; but, in 1674, New-York became English by treaty, and so remained until November, 1783.

Since that epoch, although growth and prosperity have been the general rule, yet the island city has had her ups and downs, by means of fire, pestilence, war, embargo, mobs, &c., quite enough to stimulate the energy of her sons and ripen the wisdom of her councils. In 1825, the completion of the Erie Canal, which united the Atlantic with the great lakes, gave a prodigious impulse to trade. In 1832 came the cholera, threatening utter desolation; and in 1835 a fire, which consumed property worth twenty millions of dollars. Yet, in 1842, the Great Aqueduct was finished, at a cost of thirteen million dollars. Thus much premised, let us look at New-York of to-day.

"She has no time To looken backe, her eyne be fixed before."

In describing American towns, if we would make our picture a likeness, we must

"Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of the minute."

The New-York of 1851 resembles her of fifty years ago scarcely more than the West End of London resembles Birmingham or Bristol. In 1800, one might easily believe the old story, that the streets were originally laid out by the cows, as they went out to pasture and returned at evening. Streets running in all sorts of curves crossed each other at all conceivable angles, making a maze without a plan, through which strangers needed to drop beans, like the children in the fairy-tale, to avoid being wholly lost. Fortunately, the city is not very wide, so that Broadway, which always ran lengthwise through the centre, has served as a tolerable clue from the beginning. Great sacrifices have been made for the sake of regularity, and there is now a tolerable degree of it, even in the old, or south part of the city, cross streets running from Broadway to either river with an approach to parallelism. In the early time, the town presented no bad resemblance in shape to the phenomenon called a "mackerel sky," Broadway representing the spine, and the streets running to either river the ribs, while northward and southward was a tapering off; on the south, where the Battery juts into the bay, and on the north, where the uppermost houses gradually narrowed till Broadway came to an end, with few buildings on either side of it. But in these later days, when Knickerbocker limits no longer confine the heterogeneous thousands that have pushed the old race from their stools, sixteen great avenues, each a hundred feet wide, run parallel with Broadway and the rivers, cut at right angles by wide streets, lined with costly dwellings, churches, schools, and other edifices. As is usual in great commercial towns, the lowest portion of the population haunt the neighborhood of the wharfs; and, in New-York, the eastern side of the city in particular attracts this class. But, perhaps, no city of the size has fewer streets of squalid poverty, although the encouragement given to immigration is such that there must necessarily be great numbers of wretched immigrants who have neither the will nor the power to live by honest industry. It is in truth for this class of persons that hospitals and penitentiaries are here built, foreigners supplying at least nine-tenths of the inmates of those institutions in New-York.

As to clean and healthy streets, the upper and newer part of the city has, of course, the advantage. It is laid out with special attention to drainage, for which the ridged shape of the ground affords great facility; the island on which New-York is built being highest in the middle, and sloping off, east and west, towards the Hudson and East Rivers.

Manhattan island is about fourteen miles long, with an average breadth of one mile and a half, the greatest width being two and a half miles. At the southerly point of the island, where the Hudson unites with the strait called the East River, lies one of the finest harbors in the world, affording anchorage for ships of the largest size, and surrounded by cultivated land and elegant residences. Several fortified islands diversify this bay, and numerous forts occupy the points and headlands on either side. The general appearance of the bay is that of great beauty, of the milder sort. The shores are rather low, but finely wooded, and the approach to the city from the ocean very striking. The battery, a promenade covered with fine old trees, offers a rural front, but the forests of masts stretching far up either river attract the stranger's attention much more forcibly. The _coup d'oeil_ is here magnificent. Brooklyn, on Long Island, a large city, whose white columned streets gleam along the heights, giving a palatial grandeur to the view, is just opposite New-York, on the south-east, and divided from it by so narrow a strait that it appears more truly to be a part of it than the Surrey side of the Thames to belong to London, although the rush of commerce forbids bridges. On the west side, the banks of the Hudson are lined with towns, an outcrop of the central metropolis.

Entering the city from any quarter, we are sure to find ourselves in Broadway, long the pride of the inhabitants, though its glories are rather traditional than actual, as compared with the greatest thoroughfares of commerce in older cities. It extends, eighty feet in width, two miles and a half in a straight line, northward from the Battery; and then, making a slight deflection at Union Park, runs on, _ad infinitum_, though it is at present but sparely built after another mile or so. Nearly all the best shops in the retail trade are in this street, some of them comparable to the richest of London and Paris, and the whole affording means for every device of elegant decoration and boundless expenditure. Residences here are comparatively few, especially in the lower part, the din of business and the ceaseless thunder of omnibuses having driven far away every family that has the liberty of choice. Many churches still exist in Broadway, which, on Sunday, is as quiet as any other street. Other architectural decorations there are few. The City Hall, a costly building of white marble, too long and low to make a dignified appearance, but standing in a well-wooded park, of some eleven or twelve acres in extent, has a certain beauty, especially when seen gleaming through the spray of a fountain, which sends up a tall jet at some distance in front of the building. Farther on is a hospital, of rather ancient date for this western world--built in 1775, and now surrounded by venerable trees, and clothed in the richest ivy. After this, scarcely a break in the line of dazzling shops, until we reach the vicinity of Union Square, a pretty oval park, with a noble fountain in the midst, and lofty and handsome houses all round, situated on perhaps the highest ground on this part of the island. Half a mile beyond is Madison Square, a green expanse, about which wealthy citizens are now building elegant residences of brown freestone, with some attempt at architectural display. Near this, still northward, is the lower or distributing reservoir of the Croton Aqueduct, standing on high ground, and looking something like a fortress--no great ornament, perhaps, but an object of much interest.

Fifth Avenue, on the west of Broadway, stretching north from Washington Square--an inclosure of about ten acres, well planted with elms and maples--it is the Belgravia of New-York--in the estimation of those who inhabit it; a paradise of marble, upholstery and cabinet work, at least; not much dignified, as yet, by works of high art, though the region boasts a few specimens, ancient and modern; but in luxury and extravagance emulating the repudiated aristocracy of the old world. This is, and is to be, a street of palaces and churches throughout its whole extent, always provided that the changeful current of Fashion do not set in some other direction too soon, carrying with it all the _millionaires_ that are yet to arise within the century. In that event, the costly mansions of Fifth Avenue will inevitably become hotels and boarding-houses,--a reverse which so many grandly intended houses of elder New-York have already experienced.

The distinction of East and West is marked in New-York as in London, though for different reasons. In London, the prevalence of westerly winds drives the surge waves of coal-smoke eastward, blackening every thing; in New-York the western part of the town is cleaner, because newer and built on a better plan. Broadway is the dividing line; and it is a violent strain upon one's standing in fashionable life to live eastward of it, below Union Square, even in the most expensive style. But the eastward world has its own great thoroughfare, wider than Broadway, though not as long, running nearly parallel with the main artery of the grander world. The Bowery--so called when it was the high road leading through the public farms or _Boweries_--is a sort of exaggerated Bishopsgate-street and Shoreditch united; more trades and callings, more articles offered for sale in the open air, more noise, more people, and at least as much natural, undisguised, vulgar life. A railway for horse-carriages passes through it, and hundreds of omnibuses and stage coaches, not to speak of carts and country wagons without number. A "rowdy" theatre or two, a hay-market, great clothing-shops, and livery-stables, a riding-school, an anatomical museum--such are its ornaments. Not a church countenances its entire length, nor any other public building aiming at elegance or dignity. The goods displayed in the windows are of a secondary quality, at best; and the people who throng the pavements are people who want second-rate articles. Yet the Bowery is worth walking through by a stranger, little as it is known or valued by the native citizen, whose lot has been cast in choicer neighborhood. The common pulse of humanity beats audibly and visibly there, wrapped in no cloak of convention or pseudo-refinement. The fundamental business of life is carried on there as being confessedly the main business; not, as in Broadway, as if it were a thing to be huddled into a corner to make way for the carved-work and gilding, the drapery and color of the great panorama. There is another reason why the Bowery has a claim on our attention. Strange as it may seem, it is from the people who haunt the Bowery that the United States take their character abroad. Foreigners insist upon considering the "Bowery b'hoys,"--a class at once an enigma and a terror to the greater portion of their fellow-citizens,--as distinctive specimens of Americanism, much to the horror of their more fastidious countrymen. This we think a great mistake, though truly there are worse people in the world than the "Bowery b'hoys," who are noted for a sort of _bonhomie_, in the midst of all their coarseness.

As to parks and public promenades, New-York is lamentably deficient--the whole space thus appropriated being hardly more than eighty acres, for the refreshment of a population which will soon cease to be counted by hundreds of thousands. "Eight million dollars worth of land," say the city fathers, "is as much as we can afford!" The penurious estimate which has resulted in this miserable deficiency has been long and ably combated by patriotic and clear-headed citizens, but their influence has as yet proved wholly unavailing. Public meetings have been now and then held, with a view of exciting a general interest in this important matter, but they invariably end in fruitless resolutions. The island still affords good sites for public gardens, but there is scarce a gleam of hope that any of them will be reserved. The few breathing spaces that now exist, are thronged, and by the very people who most need them--children and laboring people. The vicinity of the fountains is full of loiterers, quietly watching the play of the bright water, and growing, we may hope, milder and better by the gentle influence. At certain hours of the day whole troops of merry children, with their attendants, make the walks alive and resounding. The hoop, the ball, the velocipede, the skipping-rope, rejoice the grass and sunshine, and the eyes of the thoughtful spectator, who sees health in every bounding motion, and hears joy in every tiny shout. It is strange that the citizens do not, one and all, cry aloud for the easy and happy open-air extension of their too often crowded homes. London is the world's example in this thing.

A park suited to riding and driving is especially needed because of the wretched pavement which still disgraces the greater portion of New-York. The first thing that strikes an American returning from Europe is the inferiority of the pavements of the Atlantic cities; and New-York, in particular, is, in this respect, hardly a whit before the far-famed corduroy roads of the wild West. In 1846 a great improvement was begun, called, after the inventor, the Russ pavement, and thus far seeming to meet all the difficulties of the case, including the severe frosts and sudden changes of the climate. The plan is, however, so expensive that it will probably be long before it is fully adopted. It requires square blocks of stone, about ten inches in depth, laid diagonally with the wheel-track, and resting on a substructure of concrete, which again rests upon a foundation of granite chips, the whole forming a consolidated mass, eighteen inches thick, so arranged as to be lifted in sections to afford access to the gas and water pipes. This has been largely tried in Broadway, and has stood the test for six years.

Foreigners are apt to complain, not only, as they justly may, of the bad pavements of New-York, but, somewhat unreasonably, of the obstructions in the street, caused by incessant building, laying pipes, &c. They say, "Will the city never be finished?" Not very soon, we think. It is difficult to do in fifty years the work of five hundred, without a good deal of bustle and inconvenience. Rapid growth in population and wealth necessitates continual improvement in accommodation. We may, indeed, be allowed to fret a little, when the street is for weeks or months encumbered by the building materials of a merchant, who sees fit to pull down a very good house in order to erect one that shall cost a quarter of a million, merely because his neighbor has contrived to outshine him in that particular. But when sewers and gas, and Croton water, are in question, we must not grumble. These great public blessings are spreading into every quarter, carrying health and decency with them. The great sewers are arched canals of hard brick, from three to nine feet in diameter, and laid in mortar in the most durable manner. Above them are the gas-pipes, an immense net-work; and nearly on a level with these last are the huge veins and arteries, by means of which the Croton supplies life and health to the inhabitants, once half-poisoned by water which shared every salt that enters into the subsoil of a great city. Analysis shows the Croton water to be of great purity--holding in solution the salts of lime and magnesia in proportions hardly appreciable, only about two and eight-tenths of a grain to the gallon. The river springs from granitic hills, and flows through a clear upland region, free from marsh, and covered with grazing farms.

When the Aqueduct was undertaken, New-York numbered but two hundred and eighty thousand inhabitants, so that the supply provided was a magnificent gift to the future. The work was completed within five years, years of great commercial difficulty; and what is more remarkable, the whole cost came _within_ the estimate of the chief engineer. The abundance of water may be guessed from the fact that two of the city fountains throw away more water than would suffice for the consumption of a large city. The solidity of the structure is such that none but slight repair can be needed for centuries to come.[10]

This great work was opened, with appropriate ceremonies, and a splendid civic festival, on the 14th of October, 1842. The British consul, in accepting the invitation of the Common Council, to assist at this festival, justly remarked, "Tyrants have left monuments which call for admiration, but no similar work of a free people, for magnitude and utility, equals this great enterprise." Public feeling was very warm on this occasion. Of the procession of the trades, &c., which was three hours passing a given point, an enthusiastic citizen declared in print, that he "watched and scrutinized it closely, and could discover neither a drunkard nor a fool from first to last." It might be a difficult matter to decide on the moral and intellectual condition of the individuals composing such a procession, but we may concede that drunkards and fools are not the persons most likely to join in rejoicing for the introduction of pure water without stint or measure.

The great Aqueduct is forty-one miles in length, commencing with a dam across the Croton river, six miles above its mouth. This raises the water one hundred and sixty-six feet above tide level, forming a lake or reservoir of four hundred acres in extent, containing five hundred million gallons, above the level that would allow the Aqueduct to discharge thirty-five million gallons per day. From the Croton Dam to Harlem River, something less than thirty-three miles, the Aqueduct is an uninterrupted conduit of hydraulic masonry, of stone and brick; the greatest interior width, seven feet five inches; the greatest height, eight feet five inches; the floor an inverted arch. The commissioners and chief engineers passed through its whole length on foot, as soon as it was completed; and, when the water was admitted, traversed it again in a boat built for the purpose. It crosses the Harlem River by a bridge of stone, fourteen hundred and fifty feet long, and one hundred and fourteen feet above high-water mark. At the Receiving Reservoir forty miles from the Dam, the masonry gives place to iron pipes, through which the water is conveyed two miles further, to the distributing reservoir, from which point it runs, by means of several hundred miles of pipes, to every corner of the city. On the line of the Aqueduct are one hundred and fourteen culverts, and sixteen tunnels, and ventilators occur at the distance of one mile apart throughout the route. The Receiving Reservoir covers thirty-five acres, and contains one hundred and fifty million imperial gallons. The Distributing Reservoir has walls forty-nine feet in height, and contains twenty million gallons. The supply to each citizen is at present almost unlimited, and afforded at a very moderate annual rate. The managers complain to the Common Council of the enormous waste during the summer, when "sixty imperial gallons each twenty-four hours to every inhabitant," are delivered. But even at this enormous rate the quantity is ample, and it can be increased at will by new reservoirs. No decent house is now constructed without a bath, an advantage to the health and comfort of the city, hardly to be over-rated. Fountains adorn almost all the public places of any importance, and although in few instances as yet dignified by sculpture, these tastes and glimpses of Nature are in themselves invaluable, offering to the people at large a continual reminder of beauty, tranquillity, and innocent pleasure in the open air. There remains yet to be added those public vats for the use of poor women in washing, that may be found in so many European towns.

The facilities afforded by this abundance of water for the extinguishment of fires, are such as can hardly be over-rated. We have no space for details on this point, nor does it need. It will easily appear that, with an unlimited supply of water, and plenty of fire-plugs, a few moments suffice to bring into action whatever is needed in case of conflagration--a glorious contrast to the tardy succor of former days, when water was laboriously pumped from the rivers on either side the city, and conveyed by means of hose to the scene of danger. The perfection of the London Fire Brigade is yet to be accomplished for New-York; but promptness, or rather zeal of service, distinguishes the corps of firemen, who make their business a passion, and the perfection of their instruments their pride and glory. They receive no remuneration except exemption from military and jury duty.

After these few words on the supply of pure and life-preserving water, we may turn, by no very violent transition, to the facilities extended by New-York to her children in the matter of education,--a point on which she is naturally and justly somewhat vainglorious. The number of public, and absolutely free schools, is one hundred and ninety-nine; embracing fifteen schools for the instruction of colored children. More than one hundred thousand scholars attend in the course of the year; though the average for each day is something less than forty thousand. All is gratuitous at these schools--instruction, books, stationery, washing-apparatus, fuel, &c. Besides these, there are fifteen evening schools, for those who cannot avail themselves of the other public schools, and whose only leisure time is after the close of the labors of the day. The ages of the scholars in these schools vary from twelve to forty-five years.

This magnificent offer of instruction by the city to her children is confined to no class, country, sect, nor fortune. Every child, without exception, is received, taught, and furnished with all the requisites for a good school education. Not content with this, a free academy for the classics, modern languages, natural sciences, and drawing, was established in 1848, with fourteen professors, and proper appliances, including a handsome and commodious building. This academy receives male pupils from the common schools, after due examination; and retains them for a four years' course, or longer, if desirable. It is contemplated to establish a free high school for females, on a corresponding plan.

It is not to be supposed that the benefit of the public school system is shared only by the necessitous. The children of respectable citizens, of the plainer sort, make up a large part of the attendance. It is computed that only about twenty thousand children of both sexes are found in private schools. There are many free schools of private charity, some of which receive by law a certain share of public money, as the school of the House of Refuge, various orphan asylums, &c., including, in all, about three thousand five hundred children. The Roman Catholics have some free schools of their own, but most Roman Catholic children are educated at the public schools. The prodigious amount of immigration (on the day on which we write, we happen to know that the number of steerage passengers arrived in the city is seventeen hundred and seventy-nine, and, on another, within a week, three thousand)--makes this provision for education doubly important; since a large portion of the hordes thus emptied on these hospitable shores are entirely unable to pay any thing for the instruction of their children.

This fact gives added lustre to the no less munificent provision by the city for the gratuitous care of the sick and indigent--a care almost monopolized by foreigners, because comparatively few Americans are in a condition to need it. All accidental cases are provided for at the New-York Hospital; the attendant physicians and surgeons of which, selected from the most eminent of the profession, give their services without pecuniary remuneration. A branch of this institution is the Bloomingdale Asylum for the Insane. The New-York Dispensary provides some thirty thousand patients annually with advice, medicines, and vaccination, gratis. The Almshouse Department maintains five establishments, which, together, support about seven thousand persons, and afford weekly aid to some three thousand others. The Nursery Branch of this department maintains and instructs more than a thousand children of paupers and convicts. The Institution for the care of deaf mutes has about two hundred and fifty pupils, of whom one hundred and sixty are supported at the expense of the State. The Asylum for the Blind, originally established by a few members of the Society of Friends, has about one hundred and fifty pupils. Besides these, private charity has opened refuges for almost every form of human misery and destitution, so that it may safely be said that no one of any age, sex, nation, or character _need_ suffer, in New York, for lack of Christian kindness in its ordinary manifestations. Among these beneficent offers of relief and aid, we may mention one in particular, whose worth is not as fully appreciated by the public as that of some others, though none is more needed. The Prison Association takes care of the interests of accused persons, whose poverty and ignorance make them the easy prey of the designing and heartless; attends to them while in prison, and after their release, holds out the helping hand, and provides relief, occupation, and countenance for all those who are willing to reform. A house with matrons is provided for discharged female convicts, who are instructed and initiated into various modes of employment until they have had time to prove themselves fit to be recommended to places. The success of this most benign and difficult charity has been very encouraging.

It would be vain to attempt, in this desultory sketch, any account of the means of morals and religion in New-York. In these respects she differs but little from English commercial towns. The number of places of worship is something under three hundred, and each form of religious benevolence has its appropriate society, as elsewhere. Sabbath Schools are very popular, and attended by the children of the first citizens. An immense number of persons are associated as Sons and Daughters of Temperance, who present a strong front against that vice which turns the wise man into a fool. But as there is nothing distinctive in these and similar associations, we pass them by. A puritan tone of manners prevails; that is to say, with the mass of the well-to-do citizens, puritan manners are the beau-ideal of propriety and safety. Yet New-York is fast assuming a cosmopolitan tone which will make it difficult, before very long, to speak of any particular style of manners as prevailing. Representatives of every nation, and tongue, and kindred, and people, meeting on a footing of perfect equality of political advantages, must in time produce a social state, differing in some important particulars from any that the world has yet seen. The population of New-York will, at the past rate of increase, be in ten years greater than that of Paris, and in thirty equal to that of London. How can one speculate on a social state formed under such circumstances? The present aspect of what claims to be New-York society is certainly rather anomalous.

An exceptional American--John Quincy Adams--in some patriotic speech, mentioned, among other occasions of thankfulness to Heaven, that excellent gift, "a heritable habitation;" but there is nothing which the prosperous citizen of New-York so much despises. If he read Ruskin, he thinks the man benighted when he utters such sentiments as these: "There must be a strange dissolution of natural affection; a strange unthankfulness for all that homes have given and parents taught; a strange consciousness that we have been unfaithful to our father's honor, or that our lives are not such as would make our dwellings sacred to our children, when each man would fain build to himself, and build for the little revolution of his own life only * * * *. Our God is a household god, as well as a heavenly one. He has an altar in every man's dwelling; let men look to it when they rend it lightly, and pour out its ashes!"

If ever there were any substantial tenements of stone and brick on which might well be written the motto "Passing away!" it is those of the great commercial metropolis of the western world. The material substance is enduring enough to last many generations; their soul is a thing of the moment. After it has inhabited its proud apartments, and looked out of its beautiful windows for a few years, it departs, to return no more for ever, and its deserted home becomes at once the receptacle of a soul of lower grade, and its destiny is to pass down, and down, and down, in the scale, as time wears on, and "improvement" sanctifies new regions. One might suppose the pleasure and pride of building would be quite killed by the idea that as soon as one's head is laid in the dust, all the achievements of taste, all the devices of ingenious affection, all the personality, in short, of one's dwelling would be turned out to the gaze and comment of the curious world now so carefully shut out; exposed, depreciated, contemned, and sold to the highest bidder, under circumstances of inevitable degradation. But the ruling spirit of the New World progress seems to reconcile even the reflective to these things. They shrug their shoulders, and say it cannot be helped! Truly, these seem the days "when every man's aim is to be in some more elevated sphere than his natural one, and every man's past life is his habitual scorn; when men build in the hope of leaving the places they have built, and live in the hope of forgetting the years they have lived; when the comfort, the peace, and the religion of home have ceased to be felt." In these particulars, however, the severity of the New World is in a state of transition. Under circumstances so novel, it is not to be wondered at that no leisure has yet been found for the complete harmonization of the social theory in all its parts.

Whether the universal and incessant subdivision of estates will ever be found to allow the addition of the charm of poetic associations to the possession of wealth is a question not yet determined. When all passes under the hammer, what becomes of heir-looms, and whatever else in which family life and interest are bound up? And why should splendor prepare for perpetuity when that which supports it is to be shared among half a dozen or a dozen descendants? Will a rich man be likely to collect works of art under the consciousness that, when "cutting up" time comes, not one of his children will probably be rich enough to retain possession of these treasures that bring no tangible income? Truly, republicans ought to be philosophers, caring only for things of highest moment, and capable of saying to all others--"Get ye behind me!"

But the denizens of New-York Belgravia are not philosophers, at least not philosophers of this stamp. Content with the good things of to-day, they leave the morrow to take care of itself; and many of them live in a style which, even to those who have seen European splendor, seems no less than superb. Their dwellings are unsurpassed in convenience of arrangement and luxury of appliance; their entertainments are of regal magnificence, so far as regal magnificence is purchasable; and for dress and equipage they pour out money like water. In cultivation and accomplishments, they are of course very unequal; for, in a country where the great field of competition has a thousand gates, all opened wide to all comers, and moneyed magnates come from every class in society, and bring with them, to the new sphere, just what of a strictly personal kind they possessed in the old. He that was refined is refined still, and he that was sordid is sordid still. If the gentleman enjoys the power of indulging his tastes, and choosing his pursuits, so does the vulgarian; and, unhappily, no Belgravia, English or American, has yet been found capable of inspiring its inmates with dignified tastes or elevated aims. There is no permanent nucleus of elegant society in New-York; no reservoir of indisputable social grace, from which succeeding sets and advancing circles can draw rules and imbibe tastes. There is not, even at any one time, an acknowledged first circle, to whose standard others are willing to refer. This being so, the most incongruous manners often encounter in the social arena; and it is only in very limited association that any appreciable degree of congeniality is expected. Wealth always fraternizes with wealth to a certain extent. The maxim announced here on a certain public occasion, that "the possession of wealth is always to be received as evidence of the possession of merit of some kind," is conscientiously acted upon; but beyond this, social affinity is very limited as yet. Conversation has no recognized place among accomplishments, and of course only a doubtful one among pleasures. Coteries are unknown, and the continual shifting of circles precludes the pleasure of long-ripened intellectual intercourse. Many there are who regret this state of things in a society in which there is in reality so great a share of general good feeling; but they are found not among the rich, who possess some of the means of remedying the evil, but among those who, removed from the temptations which riches, suddenly acquired, array against intellectual pleasures, lack, on the other hand, the means of uniting with those pleasures, the _agremens_ which are at the command of easy fortune. In Paris, intellect and cultivation can draw together those who value them, even though the place of meeting be a shabby house in the suburbs; in New-York it is not yet so, nor could it be expected. No social _pose_ has yet been attained; and each is too much absorbed in making good his general claims to consideration, to have leisure for the calmer enjoyments that might be snatched during the contest. Ostentation is, as yet, too prominent in the entertainments of the rich; and the not rich, with republican pride, will rather renounce the pleasures and advantages of society than receive company in an inexpensive way. Even public amusements are not fashionable. Large numbers, it is true, attend them, but not of the fashionable classes. The Opera, alone, has a sort of popularity with these, but it is as an elegant lounger, and a chance of distinction from the vulgar. A low-priced opera, like those of the Continent, with music as the main object, and magnificent costume put out of the question by twilight houses, is yet to be tried in New-York. In the opinion of some, this is one day to be the touchstone of American musical taste. A passion for popular music the Americans certainly have. The Negro Melodists, numerous as they are, draw throngs every night; and their music, whether gay or sad, has all the charm that could be desired for the popular heart. But the people of any pretensions enjoy this kind of music, as it were by stealth, not considering that the pleasure it gives is in fact a test of its excellence. Many of the negro airs are worthy of symphonies and accompaniments by Beethoven or Schubert, but until they have been endorsed by science the New-Yorker would rather not be caught enjoying them.

If we should venture to suggest what it is that New-York society most lacks, we should say Courage--courage to enjoy and make the most of individual tastes and feelings. The spirit of imitation robs social life of all that is picturesque and poetical. Living for the eyes of our neighbors is stupefying and belittling. It gives an air of hollowness and tinsel to our homes, stealing even from the heartiness of affection, and sapping the disinterestedness of friendship. It tends to the general impoverishment of home-life, the privacy of which is the soil of originality and the nursery of accomplishments. It is hardly consistent with the pursuit of literature or art for its own sake, since a desire to do what others do, and avoid what others contemn, excludes private and independent choice, except where the natural bias is irresistibly strong. There is, in truth, very little relish for home accomplishments in New-York. Music is too much a thing of exhibition, and drawing is scarcely practised at all. Two or three of the modern languages are taught at every fashionable school; but the use of these is seldom kept up in after life, even by reading. No people are so poorly furnished with foreign tongues as the Americans, and New-York forms no exception to the general remark.

We shall not venture to touch that most sensitive of all topics, native art, on which no opinion can be expressed with safety, Suffice it to say, that New-York has a National Academy of Design; the nucleus of a free gallery; an Art-Union, largely patronized; an Artists' Association, with a gallery of its own; and various exhibitions of European pictures. Lessing's Martyrdom of Huss has been for some time exhibiting in a collection of paintings of the Duesseldorf school. Statuary is as yet comparatively rare; for, although American art has sprung at once to high excellence in this direction, the sculptors generally reside abroad, for the sake of superior advantages for execution. The present year sees the _debut_ of a young sculptor of New-York, named Palmer, who has just finished a work of great promise, for this spring's exhibition of the National Academy, an exhibition most cheering to the friends of American art, from its marked superiority in many respects to any that have gone before it. A Home-Book of Beauty is in progress, for which a young English artist, son of the celebrated Martin, is making the portraits. This promises to be very popular, since the reputation of American female beauty is world-wide.

These slight notices of New-York as she is, are intended rather to give foreign visitors a hint what _not_ to expect, than to serve as any thing deserving the name of a description of one of the commercial centres of the world. It is quite possible to come to New-York with such letters of introduction as shall open to the stranger society as intelligent and well-bred as any in Europe; but as this is composed of people who never run after notabilities as such, it is often unknown and unsuspected by the visitor from abroad, who, consequently, returns home with such broad views as we have been attempting, quite satisfied that there is nothing more worth seeking. It is noticeable that the most favorable accounts of American manners have been given by the best-bred and highest-born foreign travellers; while disparagement and abuse have been the retaliation of those who have, to their surprise, found the Americans quite capable of distinguishing between snobs and gentlemen. The intelligent traveller must know how to take New-York for what she is, and he will not undervalue her for not being what she is not. She is a magnificent city--a city of unexampled growth and energy; of the noblest public works, of unbounded charity, of a most intelligent providence in the instruction of her children, of fearless liberality in the reception and treatment of foreigners, and of a growing interest in all the arts which adorn and harmonize society. Those who visit her prepared to find these traits will not be disappointed; those who will accept nothing in an American city of yesterday but the tranquil and delicate tone of an assured civilization, should not come westward. Yet in real, essential civilization, that city cannot be far behindhand, in which the duties of a street police are almost nominal, and where every ill that can afflict humanity is cared for gratuitously, and in the most humane spirit. Justly proud of these proofs of her preparation for the outward gloss of manners which is all in all to the superficial observer, New-York can well afford to invite the scrutiny of the intelligent citizen of the world.

As we began our little sketch with some Knickerbocker reminiscences, so we feel bound, before we close, to say a word or two of the traces that still remain of the honored origin of much of the wealth and respectability of New-York. Whatever we may allow for our English superstructure, we cannot forget that the Dutch foundation was most excellent. "The Batavians," says Tacitus, "are distinguished among the neighboring nations for their valor;" and in the seventeenth century the countrymen of Van Tromp and De Ruyter had not degenerated from their Batavian ancestors; and in the gentler qualities of peace, industry, perseverance, energy, honesty, and enterprise, the States-General were surpassed by no European community. For their notions of law, we may consult Grotius; for their taste for art, the exquisite works which constitute a school of their own. The Dutch masters of New-York were people of high tone and character, and to this day there lingers a flavor of nobility and dignity about the very names of Van Rensselaer, Van Cortlandt, Van Zandt, Brinkerhoff, Stuyvesant, Rutgers, Schermerhorn, &c., represented by families who still retain much of their ancient wealth, and a great deal of their ancient aristocratic feeling. Many jokes have been founded upon the unwillingness of these lords of the soil to be disturbed; one of the best of which is Washington Irving's story of Wolfert Webber, who thought he must inevitably die in the almshouse, because the Corporation ruined his cabbage-garden by running a street through it. But they make excellent citizens, and their aversion to change has been but a much needed balance to the wild go-ahead restlessness of the full-blooded Yankee, who sees nothing but the future. The Dutch have customs, and, of course, manners; while the tendency of modern New-York life is adverse to both. The citizen of to-day cannot help looking on the Dutch spirit as "slow," but he has an instinctive respect for it, notwithstanding.

One single Dutch custom still maintains its ground triumphantly, in spite of the hurry of business, the selfishness of the commercial spirit, and the efforts of a few paltry fashionists, who would fain put down every thing in which a suspicion of heartiness can be detected. It is the custom of making New Year visits on the first day of January, when every lady is at home, and every gentleman goes the rounds of his entire acquaintance; flying in and flying out, it is true, but still with an expression of good-will and friendly feeling that is invaluable in a community where daily life is so much under the control of that cabalistic word--business. Ladies are in high party-trim, and refreshments of various kinds are offered; but the main point and recognized meaning of the whole is the interchange of friendly greetings.

No one, not to the manor born, can estimate the glow of feeling that characterizes these flying visits. "As iron sharpeneth iron, so doth the countenance of a man his friend." The mere looking into each other's faces is good for human creatures; and when the sincere even though transient light of kindly feeling beams from the eyes that thus encounter, something is done against egotism, haughty disregard and blank oblivion. Many a coolness dies on New Year's Day, under a battery of smiles; many a hard thought is shamed away by the good wishes of the season. Old friends, who are inevitably separated most of the time, thus meet at least once a year, for the enthusiasm of the hour is potent enough to make the valetudinarian forsake his easy chair, and the cripple his crutches. Visiting hours are extended so as to include all the hours from ten in the morning until ten at night, and, in order to make the most of these, the gentlemen take carriages and scour the streets at the true American pace, so as to lose as little time as possible on the way. If a storm occur, it is considered quite a public misfortune, since it lessens, though it never altogether prevents the fulfilment of the annual ceremony. It is true that both ladies and gentlemen are death-weary when bed-time comes, but that for once a year is no great evil. It is true that some young men will take more whisky-punch, or champagne, than is becoming; but for one who does this, there are many who decline "all that can intoxicate," except smiles and kind words. In some houses the blinds are closed, the gas lighted, and a band of music in attendance; and each batch of visitors inveigled into polkas, or kedowas, for which the lady of the house has taken care to provide partners. But this is considered a degeneracy, and voted _mauvais ton_ by those who understand the thing. To "throw a perfume o'er the violet," bespeaks the French _coiffeur_ or the _parvenu_; the simplicity of the ancient Dutch custom of New Year visits is its dignity and glory. Long may it live unspotted by vulgar fashion! Well were it for the island city if she had kept a loving hold on many another quaint festivity of her ancestors on the other side of the water. Her prosperity would be none the worse of a respectful reference to the good things of the past.

FOOTNOTES:

[10] Among the causes of decay in the Roman aqueducts, was the strong concretion formed on the bottom and sides by matter deposited by the water. No such deposit is made by the water of the Croton.

From Fraser's Magazine.

A JUNGLE RECOLLECTION.

BY CAPTAIN HARDBARGAIN.

The hot season of 1849 was peculiarly oppressive, and the irksome garrison duty at Cherootabad, in the south of India, had for many months been unusually severe. The colonel of my regiment, the brigadier, and the general, having successively acceded to my application for three weeks' leave, and that welcome fact having been duly notified in orders, it was not long before I found myself on the Coimbatore road, snugly packed guns and all, in a country bullock-cart, lying at full length on a matress, with a thick layer of straw spread under it.

All my preparations had been made beforehand; relays of bullocks were posted for me at convenient intervals, and I arrived at Goodaloor, a distance of a hundred and ten miles, in rather more than forty-eight hours.

Goodaloor is a quiet little village, about eleven miles from Coimbatore;--but don't suppose I was going to spend my precious three weeks there.

After breakfasting at the traveller's bungalow, we started off again. The bungalow is on the right hand side of the road; and when we had proceeded about two hundred yards, the bullock-cart turned into the fields to the left, and got along how it could across country, towards some low rocky hills, which ran parallel, and at about three miles distance from the Coimbatore road.

After about two miles of this work, sometimes over fallow ground, sometimes through fields of growing grain, (taking awful liberties with the loose hedges of cut brambles, which, however, we had the conscience to build up again as we passed them,) sometimes over broken stony ground, and once or twice lumbering heavily through a rocky watercourse, we at last found ourselves on the grassy margin of a pretty little stream. Fifty yards beyond it, under the shade of a fine mango-tree, my little tent was already pitched; in five minutes I lay stretched on my bed, listening with ravished ears to the glorious accounts of my old Shikaree, who had just come in, hot and tired, from the jungle. He had much to tell,--how since he had been out, three days, he had tracked the tiger every morning up and down a certain nullah; how the brindled monster had been seen by different shepherds; and what was still more satisfactory, how he had but yesterday killed a cow near the spot where the hut had been built. It was now midday;--how to spend the long hours till sunset?

After making the tired man draw innumerable sketch-maps in the sand, with reiterated descriptions of the hut, &c., I allowed the poor wretch to go to his dinner; and in anticipation of a weary night's watch, I squeezed my eyes together and tried to sleep.

The sun begins to acquire his evening slant, and I joyfully leave my bed to prepare for my nocturnal expedition. The cook is boiling fowl and potatoes; they are ready; and now he pours his clear strong coffee into the three soda-water bottles by his side; everything is ready, in the little basket, not forgetting a bottle of good beer. Now then commences the pleasing task of carefully loading our battery.

Come, big "Sam Nock," king of two-ouncers, what is to be the fate of these two great plumbs that you are now to swallow? Am I to cut them out of the tiger's ribs to-morrow?--or are they idly to be fired away into the trunk of a tree, or drawn again?

All loaded, and pony saddled, let us start: the two white cows and their calves; the matress and blanket rolled up and carried on a Cooly's head: Shikaree, horsekeeper, and a village man with the three guns, while I myself bring up the rear. Over a few ploughed fields, and past that large banian-tree, the jungle begins.

What is this black thing? and what are those people doing? That hideous black image is the jungle god, and to him the villagers look for protection for their flocks.

How they stare at the man dressed in his mud-colored clothes, who has come so far, and sacrifices sleep and comfort, to sit and watch at night for the evil genius of their jungles. Children are held up to look at him--at the English jungle-wallah, who drinks brandy as they drink milk, and who is on his way to the deepest fastnesses of the wooded waste, to watch for the tiger alone--a man who laughs at gods and devils--a devil himself. The Shikaree, who had been earnestly engaged in conversation with the oldest looking man of the group, now ran up and informed me that the Gooroo had given him to understand that the Sahib would certainly kill the tiger this night, and that it was expected that he would subscribe fifteen rupees to the god, in the event of the prediction proving true. Come, we have no time for talking. Hurry on, cows and guns, hurry on! through the silent jungle, along the narrow path. How much farther yet. Not more than a quarter of a mile; we are close to it. And now the people who know the whereabouts stop and look smilingly on one another, and then at the Sahib, whose practised eye has but just discovered the well-built ambush.

In a small clump of low jungle, on the sloping bank of a broad, sandy watercourse, the casual passer-by would not have perceived a snug and tolerably strong little hut,--the white ends of the small branches that were laid over it, and the mixture of foliage, alone revealing the fact to the observant eye of a practised woodman. No praise could be too strong to bestow on the faithful Shikaree; had I chosen the spot myself, after a week's survey of the country, it could not have been more happily selected. The watercourse wound its way through the thickest and most _tigerish_ section of the jungle, and had its origin at the very foot of the hills, where tigers were continually seen by the woodcutters and shepherds. There was little or no water within many miles, except the few gallons in a basin of rock, which I could almost reach from my little bower; and, to crown all, there were the broad, deep _puggs_ of a tiger, up and down the nullah, in the dry sand, near the water's edge, of all ages, from the week, perhaps, up to the unmistakable fresh puggs of last night.

Let us get off the pony, and have a look at the hut. Pulling a few dry branches on one side, the small hurdle-door at the back is exposed to view, hardly big enough to admit a large dog; down on your knees and crawl in. Five feet long, four feet wide, and four feet high in the centre, is the extent of the little palace; a platform, a foot from the ground, occupies the whole extent to within a foot of the front end facing the bed of the watercourse. On this platform the matress is laid, and some big coats and the blankets make a very comfortable pillow. Remove that little screen of leaves, and you look through a window, ten inches square, that commands a view fifty paces up and down the sandy nullah. Sitting on the end of the bed-place, just behind the window, with your feet on the ground, nothing can be more comfortable; and when tired, you only have to draw up your legs, and curl yourself on the matress to enjoy a short nap, if your prudence cannot conquer sleep. Into this hut which I have endeavored to describe, did I now crawl; the matress was arranged, the handsome and carefully loaded battery was next handed in, and each gun placed ready for action; the cold fowl and bottle of Bass were in the mean while disposed of, and the soda-water bottles of cold coffee were stowed away in cunning corners.

The sun is resting on the hill-tops, and will soon disappear behind them; the peafowl and jungle-cock are noisily challenging amongst themselves, and the latest party of woodcutters have just passed by, showing, by their brisk pace and loud talking, that they consider it high time for prudent men to quit the jungle.

To the deeply-rooted stump of a young tree on the opposite bank, one of the white cows has been made fast by a double cord passed twice round her horns. Nothing remains to be done; the little door is fastened behind me, the prickly acacia boughs are piled up against it on the outside, and my people are anxious to be off. The old Shikaree makes his appearance in the nullah, and wishing me success through the window, asks if "all is right?" "Every thing; get home as fast as you can: if you should hear three shots in succession before dark, come back for me,--otherwise, bring the pony at six to-morrow morning,--and a cup of hot coffee, tell the cook."

They are gone; I still hear them every now and then, as they shout to one another, and as the pony is scrambling through some loose stones in the bed of a [missing words/letters] through which the road lies.

The poor cow, too, listens with dismay to the retreating footsteps of the party, and has already made some furious plunges to free herself and rejoin the rest of the kine, who have been driven off, nothing loth, towards home. Watch her: how intently she stares along the path by which the people have deserted her. Were it not for the occasional stamp of her fore leg, or the impatient side-toss of the head, to keep off the swarming flies, she might be carved out of marble. And now a fearful and anxious gaze up the bed of the nullah, and into the thick fringe of Mimoso, one ear pricked and the other back alternately, show that _instinct_ has already whispered the warning of impending danger. Another plunge to get loose, and a searching gaze up the path; see her sides heave. Now comes what we want--that deep low! it echoes again among the hills: another, and another. Poor wretch! you are hastening your doom; far or near the tiger hears you--under rock or thicket, where he has lain since morning sheltered from the scorching sun, his ears flutter as if they were tickled every time he hears that music: his huge green eyes, heretofore half-closed, are now wide open, and, alas! poor cow, gaze truly enough in thy direction; but he has not stirred yet, and nobody can say in which direction giant death will yet stalk forth.

Which ever of my readers who has never had to wait in solitude, in a strange room of a strange house, has not indulged in that idle speculative curiosity peculiar to such a situation, gazing on the pictures, and counting perhaps tables and chairs with an absurd earnestness of purpose,--will not understand how I spent the first half hour of my solitude; how I idly counted the stakes that formed the framework of the hut, or watched with interest the artful tactics of another Shikaree, in the shape of a slippery-looking green lizard, who was cautiously "stalking" the insects among the rafters.

The cow, tired with struggling and plunging, appears to have become tolerably resigned to her situation, and has lain down, her ears, however, in continual motion, and the jaw sometimes suddenly arrested, while in the act of chewing the cud, to listen, as some slight noise in the thicket attracts her attention. Gracious! what is that down the nullah to the left? A peacock only. How my heart beat at first! what a splendid train the fellow has. Here he comes, evidently for the water; and now his seraglio,--one, two, four, five, buff-breasted, modest-looking little quakeresses. What a contrast to his splendid blue and gold! All to the water--dive in your bills and toss back your heads with blinking eyes, as you quaff the delicious fluid; little do you dream that there is a gun within five paces, although you are quite safe. But stop! here are antics. The old boy is happy, and up goes his tail, to the admiration of his hens, and the extreme wonderment of the cow, who with open eyes is staring with all her might at the glories of the expanded fan; and now slowly goes he round and round, like a solemn Jack o' the Green, his spindle shanks looking disreputably thin in the waning light.

They quit the water-side, and disappear; and I can hear their heavy wings as they one after another mount a tall tree for the night.

The moon is up--all nature still; the cow, again on her legs, is restless, and evidently frightened. Oh! reader, even if you have the soul of a Shikaree, I despair of being able to convey in words a tithe of the sensations of that solitary vigil: a night like that is to be enjoyed but seldom--a red-letter day in one's existence.

Where is the man who has never experienced the poetic influence of a moonlit scene! Fancy, then, such a one as here described; a crescent of low hills--craggy, steep, and thickly wooded--around you on three sides, and above them, again, at twenty miles' distance, the clear blue outline of the Neilgherry Hills; in your front the silver-sand bed of the dry watercourse divides the thick and sombre jungle with a stream of light, till you lose it in the deep shadows at the foot of the hills,--all quiet, all still, all bathed in the light of the moon, yourself the only man for miles to come; a solitary watcher, your only companion the poor cow, who, full of fears and suspicions at every leaf-fall, reminds you that a terrible struggle is about to take place within a few feet of your bed, and that there will be noise and confusion, when you must be cool and collected. Your little kennel would not be strong enough to resist a determined charge, and you are alone, if three good guns are not true friends.

Let me, good reader, give way to the pleasures of memory,--let me fancy myself back again, seated in my dear little hut, full of hope and expectation, now drinking the ice-cold coffee from one of the soda-water bottles, re-corking it, and placing it slowly and noiselessly in its corner. Hark to the single ring of a silver bell, and its echo among the hills! a spotted deer--why does she call? has she seen any thing? Again, and again, and answered from a long distance! 'Tis very odd, that when one should be most wakeful, there should be always an inclination to sleep. A raw nip of aqua-vitae, and a little of the same rubbed round the eyes, nostrils and behind the ears, make us wakeful again.

Oh! that I could express sounds on paper as music is written in notes. No, reader, you must do as I have done--you must be placed in a similar situation, to hear and enjoy the terrible roar of a hungry tiger--not from afar off and listened for, but close at hand and unexpected. It was like an electric shock;--a moment ago, I was dozing off, and the cow, long since lain down, appeared asleep; that one roar had not died away among the hills when she had scrambled on her legs, and stood with elevated head, stiffened limbs, tail raised, and breath suspended, staring full of terror in the direction of the sound. As for the biped, with less noise and even more alacrity, he had grasped his "Sam Nock," whose polished barrels just rested on the lower ledge of the little peephole; perhaps his eyes were as round as saucers, and heart beating fast and strong.

Now for the struggle;--pray heaven that I am cool and calm, and do not fire in a hurry, for one shot will either lose or secure my well-earned prize.

There he is again! evidently in that rugged, stony watercourse which runs parallel, and about two hundred yards behind the hut. But what is that? Yes, lightning: two flashes in quick succession, and a cold stream of air is rustling through the half-withered leaves of my ambush. Taking a look to the rear through an accidental opening among the leaves, it was plain that a storm, or, as it would be called at sea, a squall, was brewing. An arch of black cloud was approaching from the westward, and the rain descending, gave it the appearance of a huge black comb, the teeth reaching to the earth. The moon, half obscured, showed a white mist as far as the rain had reached. Then was heard in the puffs of air the hissing of the distant but approaching down-pour: more lightning--then some large heavy drops plashed on the roof, and it was raining cats and dogs.

How the scene was changed! Half-an-hour ago, solemn, and still, and wild, as nature rested, unpolluted, undefaced, unmarked by man--sleeping in the light of the moon, all was tranquillity; the civilized man lost his idiosyncrasy in its contemplation--forgot nation, pursuits, creed,--he felt that he was Nature's child, and adored the God of Nature.

But the beautiful was now exchanged for the sublime, when that scene appeared lit up suddenly and awfully by lightning, which now momentarily exchanged a sheet of intensely dazzling blue light, with a darkness horrible to endure--a light which showed the many streams of water, which now appeared like ribbons over the smooth slabs of rock that lay on the slope of the hills, and gave a microscopic accuracy of outline to every object,--exchanged as suddenly for a darkness which for the moment might be supposed the darkness of extinction--of utter annihilation,--while the crash of thunder overhead rolled over the echoes of the hills, "I am the Lord thy God."

The hut, made in a hurry, was not thatched (as it might have been), and the half-dried foliage which covered it collected drops only to pour down continuous streams from the stem of every twig.

So much for sitting up for tigers! will most of my readers exclaim, and laugh at the monomaniac who would subject himself to such misery; but the thorough-bred Shikaree is game and stanch to the backbone, and will not be stopped by a night's wetting. For myself, I can only say in extenuation, that I was born on the 12th of August.

A heavy and continuous down-pour soon showed its effects, and although I had lots of big coats, and was not altogether unprepared for such an emergency, an hour had not elapsed before I was obliged to confess myself tolerably wet through. The matress just collected the water and made a good hip-bath, for there was no other seat. The nullah, heretofore as I have described, was now a turbid stream of red water, which falling over a slab of rock into the small basin before mentioned, kept up an unceasing din. Tired and disgusted, I rolled a doubled blanket, although saturated with water, tight round me, and was soon warm and asleep. About two o'clock in the morning the clouds broke and the rain ceased; the boiling stream ran down to half its size, and a concert of thousands of frogs, bass, tenor, and treble, kept up a monotonous croaking enough to wake the dead.

The moon appeared again, and I attacked both cold coffee and brandy, and made myself as comfortable as possible under existing circumstances--to wit, wringing the water out of my jacket and cap, and putting them on again warm and comparatively dry. The cow even shook herself, and appeared glad of the change of weather, and I had no doubt that she would go back with me to the tent in the morning to gladden the eyes of her young calf and all good Hindoos. The nullah had run dry again, and even the infernal frogs, as if despairing of more rain, had ceased their din: damp and sleepy, with arms folded and eyes sometimes open, but often shut, I kept an indifferent watch, when the cow struggling on her legs and a choking groan brought me to my senses! There they were! No dream! A huge tiger holding her just behind the ears, shaking her like a fighting dog! By the doubtful light of a watery moon did I calmly and noiselessly run out the muzzle of my single J. Lang rifle.

I saw him, without quitting his grip of the cow's neck, leap over her back more than once--she sank to the earth, and he lifted her up again: at the first opportunity I pulled trigger--snick! The rifle was withdrawn, and big Sam Nock felt grateful to the touch. Left barrel--snick! Right barrel--snick, bang!

Whether hanging fire is an excuse or not, the tiger relinquished his hold, and in one bound was out of sight. The cow staggered for two or three seconds, fell with a heavy groan, and ceased to move. Tiger gone!--cow dead!--was it a dream? Killed the cow within five paces and gone away scathless.

For a long time I felt benumbed; I had missed many near shots, even many at tigers, and some like this at night, but never before under such favorable circumstances. Why, I almost dreaded the morning, when my Shikaree and people would come and find the cow killed, and I should have in fairness to account for the rest. The first streak of daylight did shortly appear, and every familiar sound of awaking nature succeeded each other, from the receding hooting of the huge horned owl, to the noisy crowing of the jungle cock and the call of the peafowl. The sun got up, and soon I heard, first doubtfully and then distinctively, the approach of my people. A sudden start, and stop, when they came in full view of the slaughtered cow; and then, a look up and down the nullah, as if they had not seen all. The reader must spare me the recollection of a scene that vexes me even at this distance of time, as if it had occurred but yesterday. The next half-hour was spent sitting on the carcass of the cow, staring at the enormous and deeply indented prints of the tiger's feet, and looking with sorrow and vexation and some compunction at the poor little calf which had been driven back to its mother, neither to see her alive nor her death avenged.

It was quite evident that the tiger had not been hit, for there was neither hair nor blood to be seen, and one or two small branches in the jungle beyond the cow showed, either by being cut down or barked, that the ball had passed over the mark. So on the pony and back to the tent to sleep or sulk out the next twelve hours.

Somehow or other that pony, generally so clever and pleasant, was inclined to kick his toes against every stone, and be perverse all the way home; at any rate I fancied so, and am ashamed to say that I gave him the spur, or jerked the curb rein on the slightest pretence. My people, like all Indians, read the case thoroughly, and trudged along without hazarding a remark on any subject. We passed under the identical banian-tree and by the disgusting little black image described in the commencement of the story, and never did I feel more indignant against all idolatry, or more inclined to smash a Hindoo god. We also had to pass a small jungle village, and, as if on purpose, it appeared that every man, woman, and child were posted to have a good look. Several of them who knew some of my party, asked a hurried question, and I could hear, though I would not look, that the answer was given--"Had a shot, but missed." "Yes," said I to myself, "quite true--why should I be angry?" "Here goes the man that missed an animal as big as a bullock at ten paces,--more power to his elbow!"

The tent gained, I was soon lying on my back on the bed kicking out my heels, calling for breakfast, and appearing to be very hungry, or very sleepy, or very any thing but what I was--mortified and disgusted. Breakfast over, my good old Shikaree was sent for, and the whole affair gone over again. The rain, the unexpected time of night, and above all, the two first shots _snicking_, and the third hanging fire being considered, we two being judge and jury, it was decided that not the slightest blame attached to the defendant, who was too well known as a very fine shot to regard a mistake of this kind; and, moreover, that as it was certain that the tiger was not hurt, but only frightened, there was strong reason for hoping that he would return at nightfall to the carcass. Men were therefore sent out to watch that the place should not in any way be disturbed, or the dead cow touched or moved, and I resigned myself to a pleasant sleep. I awoke about three in the afternoon; the guns had, thanks to a good Shikaree, been washed, dried, and slightly oiled, and were all laid on the table, looking as if a month of rain would not make them miss fire. A bath, clean clothes, guns loaded, pony saddled--and once more off to try my luck.

The pony was active and cheerful, and even the beastly image under the banian-tree did not look so grim. On our arrival at the ground, the half-wild fellows who had watched all day, dropped down from their trees, and reported that nothing had happened during the day, and that the place had been undisturbed. A few vultures appeared about midday and settled on the carcass, but had been driven off; further they had nothing to say.

They were referred to the tent for payment for their day's work, and, in due course, took their departure with my people.

Once more left alone!--this time quite alone, for my poor companion of last night lay stiff and stark in the position I saw her fall, when the tiger relinquished his hold.

Alarmed by the already slightly smelling carrion, or finding water elsewhere, left by the down-pour of last night, no peaceful or other living thing paid me a visit, if I except some few crows, who with heavy wings swept past, or perched on neighboring trees, cawing, and winking their eyes, and peering cautiously and inquisitively at the dead cow. Only one among the crew hovered and lighted on the dead beast's head; but although he made several picks at the lips and eyes, opening and shutting his wings the while on his strong, sleek, wiry-looking body, and cawing lustily, nobody heeded him; so, appearing to be alarmed at being solus in the scene, he took his departure.

Night succeeded day, and the moon, in unclouded beauty, made the dark jungle a fairy scene. There was but one drawback; the cow lay dead, the tiger had been fired at, and experience whispered, 'the opportunity has gone by.'

By-and-by a jackal passed, like a shadow among the bushes, so small-looking, so much the color of all around, that it remained a doubt; more of these passed to and fro, and then a bolder ventured on the plain sand, and up to the rump of the dead beast, took two or three hard tugging bites, and was gone. As the night grew later, they became less fearful, and half-a-dozen of them together were tugging and tearing, till breaking the entrails, the gas escaped in a loud rumbling, which dispersed my friends among the bushes in a moment; but they were almost immediately back, and the confidence with which they went to work, convinced me that my hope was hopeless.

It must have been eleven o'clock when my ears caught the echo among the rocks, and then the distant roar--nearer--nearer--nearer; and--oh, joy!--answered. Tiger and tigress!--above all hope!--coming to recompense me for hundreds of night-watchings--to balance a long account of weary nights in the silent jungle, in platforms on trees, in huts of leaf and bramble, and in damp pits on the water's edge--all bootless;--coming--coming--nearer, and nearer.

Music nor words, dear reader, can stand me in any stead to convey the sound to you; the first note like the trumpet of a peacock, and the rest the deepest toned thunder. Stones and gravel rattled just behind the hut on the path by which we came and went, and a heavy stey passed and descended the slope into the nullah. I heard the sand crunching under his weight before I dared look. A little peep. Oh, heavens! looming in the moonlight, there he stood, long, sleek as satin, and lashing his tail--he stood stationary, smelling the slaughtered cow. No longer the cautious, creeping tiger, I felt how awful a brute he was to offend. I remembered how he had worried a strong cow in half a minute, and that with his weight alone my poor rickety little citadel would fall to pieces. As if the excitement of the moment was insufficient, the monster, gazing down the dry watercourse, caught sight of his companion, who, advancing up the bed of the nullah, stood irresolutely about twenty yards off. A terrific growl from him, answered not loud but deeply, and I was the strange and unsuspected witness to a catawauling which defies description--a monstrous burlesque on those concerts of tigers in miniature which are occasionally got up, on a cold, clear night, in some of the squares in London, when all the cats for half a mile around get by some queer accident into one area.

Whether it is an axiom among tigers that possession is nine points of the law, or the other monster was the weaker vessel, I know not, but I soon perceived that as _my_ friend made more noise, the other became more subdued, and finally left the field, and retired growling among the bushes. The bully, who was evidently the male, after smelling at the head, came round the carcass, making a sort of complacent purring--"humming a kind of animal song," and to it he went tooth and nail. As he stood with his two fore feet on the haunch, while he tugged and tore out a beef-steak, I once more grasped old "Sam Nock," and ran the muzzle out of the little port. The white linen band marked a line behind his shoulders, and rather low, but, from the continued motion of his body, it was some moments before eye and finger agreed to pull trigger--bang! A shower of sand rattled on the dry leaves, and a roar of rage and pain satisfied me, even before the white smoke which hung in the still air had cleared away, to show the huge monster writhing and plunging where he had fallen. Either directed by the fire, or by some slight noise made in the agitation of the moment, he saw me, and with a hideous yell, scrambled up: the roaring thunder of his voice filled the valley, and the echoes among the hills answered it, with the hootings of tribes of monkeys, who, scared out of sleep, sought the highest branches, at the sound of the well-known voice of the tyrant of the jungle. I immediately perceived, to my great joy, that his hind-quarters were paralyzed and useless, and that all danger was out of the question. He sank down again on his elbows, and as he rested his now powerless limbs, I saw the blood welling out of a wound in the loins, as it shone in the moonlight, and trickled off his sleek-painted hide, like globules of quicksilver. As I looked into his countenance, I saw all the devil alive there. The will remained--the power only had gone. It was a sight never to be forgotten. With head raised to the full stretch of his neck, he glared at me with an expression of such malignity, that it almost made one quail. I thought of the native superstition of singing off the whiskers of the newly-killed tiger to lay his spirit, and no longer wondered at it. With ears back, and mouth bleeding, he growled and roared in fitful uncertainty, as if he were trying, but unable, to measure the extent of the force that had laid him low.

Motionless myself, provocation ceased, and without further attempt to get on his legs, he continued to gaze on me; when I slowly lowered my head to the sight, and again pulled trigger. This time, true to the mark, the ball entered just above the breast-bone, and the smoke cleared off with his death groan. There he lay, foot to foot with his victim of last night, motionless--dead. My first impulse was to tear down the door behind, and get a thorough view of his proportions; but remembering that his companion, the tigress, had only vanished a short time ago close to the scene of action, I thought it as well to remain where I was; so, enlarging the windows with my hands, I took a long look, and then jovially attacked the coffee and brandy bottles, without reference to noise, and fell back on the mattress to sleep, or to think the night's work over. "At last, I have got him: his skin will be pegged out to-morrow, drying before the tent door." When my people came in the morning, they found me seated on the dead tiger. Coolies were sent for to carry the beast, and I gave the pony his reins all the way back to the tent.

After breakfast, the sound of tomtoms and barbarous music greeted our ears; for the Gooroo and half the little village had turned out, and were bringing in the tiger like an Irish funeral. I had a chair brought out, and under the shade of a fine tree superintended the skinning of the tiger; and as I had had no sleep for the last two nights, I determined to make holiday. Dined at half-past six, and had a bottle of _Frederick Giesler_, and the fumes of his glorious champagne inspired me: "The first rainy day, I will put last night's adventure on paper, and send it home to my old friend Regina."

From Bentley's Miscellany.

A VISIT TO THE "MAID OF ATHENS."

BY MRS. BUXTON WHALLEY.

"_Buon giorno, signora! Vi e veramente una bella citta! Ma, dov' e la Fenice?_" Such was the morning salutation of the Venetian captain in command of the Austrian Loyd steamer which had conveyed us up the Gulf of Corinth, as he pointed derisively to a collection of huts about a stone's throw from the shore, and wondered what could induce any one, voluntarily, to abandon his "sea Cybele" for such as these! So few were they in number, and so small in size, that they had hitherto eluded our notice; nevertheless, they constituted, insignificant as they appeared, the town of Lutraki. The captain's interruption, awakening us from a dream of "Gods and god-like men," was as disagreeable as all such interruptions must be, alike indicating ignorance, and that want of sympathy, which is its natural result. But to the English traveller, who now scarcely dares to hope to find a spot left on Europe where he may look on Nature, unseared by cockneyfied sights and sounds, it ought not to form a very serious subject for complaint. To such an one, sick of Italian cities, where his countrymen assemble but to parade their _ennui_ and their vices, as of German steamboats, on the decks of which they listlessly throng, dividing their glances pretty equally between castles and cutlets--a rock and a _ragout_--how invigorating is the first sight of Greece, in all its primitive and majestically tranquil simplicity! And what a strangely felicitous epithet does that seem of "voiceless" bestowed by Byron on those shores where nothing is heard, save occasionally the plaintive cry of a sea-gull, and the very gentlest murmur from the waves. There, may be observed in perfection the truth of Chateaubriand's remark, that, "_le paysage n'est cree que par le soleil; c' est la lumiere qui fait le paysage_."

However, our present purpose is to narrate a short episode in modern Athenian life, rather than to dwell on scenes with which genius even can but imperfectly familiarize the world, either by pen or pencil.

Near the solitary palm-tree, which grows in the middle of the highway affecting to communicate[11] between Athens and the Piraeus, a polygonal structure has been built, which is entered through a dark, narrow passage leading from the road in front to a yard at its rear. A ladder fixed against the wall forms the usual mode of ingress to a very small room, which on a certain carnival night, not long ago, was crowded by hats, cloaks, and Greeks, both male and female; the former busily occupied in smoking, the latter in concocting some indescribable liquid intended as a light refreshment to wearied dancers. For the Maid of Athens--the quondam Mariana Macri--the actual Mrs. Black, was about to give a ball. From the before-mentioned small entrance-room the guests passed into the principal saloon, exactly coinciding in its strange shape with the exterior of the house. At the upper end an open door revealed a bed, on which shortly afterwards the orchestra, consisting of two fiddlers, took up their position, with knees protruding into the ball-room.

Every thing was of the rudest, the most unadorned, and Robinson Crusoe-like, description. At the first glance it became evident that the "geraniums and Grecian balms," which an enthusiastic traveller once endeavored to magnify into "waving aromatic plants," had long ago withered from the hostess's possession, never to be replaced. But she, the fairest flower of all, with her two sisters, still retain no inconsiderable remnants of beauty; which is the more remarkable in a country where good looks vanish, and age arrives, so speedily. Indeed, good looks at all are rare among the continental Greek women; the celebrated beauties being usually islanders, and chiefly Hydriotes. Mrs. Black was attired in her coquettish native costume, consisting of a red fez, profusely ornamented with gold embroidery, placed on one side of the head; a long flowing silk petticoat, and a close-fitting, dark velvet jacket. A similar dress was worn by her sister, Madame Pittakis, the wife of the celebrated antiquary, and _guardian of the Acropolis_; in virtue of which magnificent title he receives two drachmae (about 1_s._ 7_d._) per head for admission to the Parthenon. The third Grace, being a widow, was dressed entirely in black. The company comprised a motley assemblage in Frank, and the varying provincial Greek costumes, diversified here and there by personages in King Otho's uniform. But the dancers of the _beau sexe_ were extremely few, and, to say the least of them, very indifferent performers. However, what they needed in skill and energy, was amply made up by the vivacity of their graceful and vainglorious lords; who, despite the clouds of dust from the dirty floor, and equally dirty shoes, continued an almost ceaseless round of their national dance, the Romaika, only pausing at intervals to recruit their strength with glasses of burning rakee, the beverage most in demand. Those bowls of Samian wine which figure so charmingly in poetry, form, alas! but sorry items in prosaic matter-of-fact repasts; and one feels, indeed, disposed to dash them any where _but_ down one's throat. Of the dancers, one of the most active was Mrs. Black's son, a handsome youth, apparently about eighteen years of age; together with her husband, who, from being a Norfolk farmer, is now elevated to the somewhat anomalous position of English Professor at the Athenian University. The fair Mariana herself is quiet and retiring; and seemingly little anxious to profit by the factitious interest with which Byron's transient admiration continues to invest her; for, in reply that night to a blundering Englishman's point blank queries concerning the poet, she answered, "_Non mi ricordo piu di lui_."

Soon after midnight the guests departed, at the imminent hazard of breaking their necks, either down Mrs. Black's ladder, or in the numerous holes that intervened between her residence and their respective abodes. But we could not help thinking, that, uncouth as had been the entertainment, it was more in accordance with the social position of a people whose Ministers are not always competent to read or write, and whose legislators occasionally enforce their political arguments by flinging their shoes in the faces of the opposition, than the exotic civilization of the gaudy little court, presided over by that loveliest of royal ladies, Queen Amalia.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] At the period of which I write, this road, although the principal approach to the capital, was impassable, and passengers pursued, instead, a devious and uncertain track through corn-fields, ditches, and the rocky bed of the Cyphissus.

From the French of Eugene de Mirecourt,

THE HISTORY OF A ROSE

The gallery parallel to the course of the Seine, and which joins the Palace of the Tuileries to the Louvre, was designed by Philibert de l'Orme, and finished towards the end of 1663. On the 15th of January, 1664, Louis the Fourteenth descended into the vast greenhouses, where his gardener, Le Notre, had collected from all parts of the world the rarest and most beautiful plants and flowers.

The air was soft and balmy as that of spring-time in the south. At the right of the great monarch stood Colbert, silently revolving gigantic projects of state; at the left was Lauzun, that ambitious courtier, who, not possessing sufficient tact to discern royal hatred under the mask of court favor, was afterwards destined to expiate, at Pignerol, the crime of being more amiable and handsomer than the king.

"Messieurs," said Louis, showing to his companions a long and richly-laden avenue of orange trees, "are not these a noble present from our ancient enemy, Philip the Fourth, now our father-in-law? He has rifled his own gardens to deck the Tuileries; and the Infanta, we hope, when walking beneath these trees, will cease to regret the shade of the Escurial."

"Sire," said Colbert gravely, "the Queen mourns a much greater loss--that of your majesty's affections."

"_Parbleu!_" exclaimed Lauzun, gayly; "in order to lose any thing, one must first have possessed it. Now, if I don't mistake,--"

"Silence! M. le Duc. M. de Colbert, my marriage was the work of Mazarin--quite sufficient to guarantee that the _heart_ was not consulted."

The minister bowed, without replying.

"As to you, M. de Lauzun," continued the king, "beware, henceforward, how you forget that Maria Theresa is Queen of France, and that the nature of our feelings towards her is not to be made a subject of discussion."

"Sire, forgive my--"

"Enough!" interrupted Louis, approaching a man, who, unmindful of the king's presence, had taken off his coat, in order the more easily to prune a tall flowering shrub.

This was the celebrated gardener, Le Notre. Absorbed in some unpleasant train of thought, he had not heeded the approach of visitors, and continued to mutter and grumble to himself, while diligently using the pruning-knife.

"What! out of humor?" asked Louis.

Without resuming his coat, the gardener cried eagerly--"Sire, justice! This morning, the Queen Dowager's maids of honor came hither, and, in spite of my remonstrances, did an infinity of mischief. See this American magnolia, the only one your Majesty possesses. Well, Sire, they cut off its finest blossoms: neither oranges nor roses could escape them. Happily I succeeded in hiding from them my favorite child--my beautiful rose-tree, which I have nursed with so much care, and which will live for fifty years, provided care be taken not to allow it to produce more than one rose in the season." Then pointing to the plant of which he spoke, Le Notre continued: "'Tis the hundred-leaved rose, Sire! Hitherto I have saved it from pillage; but I protest, if such conduct can be renewed.

"Come, come!" interposed the monarch, "we must not be too hard on young girls. They are like butterflies, and love flowers."

"_Morbleu!_ Sire, butterflies don't break boughs, and eat oranges!"

Louis deigned to smile at this repartee. "Tell us," he said, "who were the culprits?"

"All the ladies, Sire! Yet, no. I am wrong. There was one young creature, as fresh and lovely as this very rose, who did not imitate her companions. The poor child even tried to comfort me, while the others were tearing my flowers: they called her Louise."

"It was Mademoiselle de la Valliere," said Lauzun, "the young person whom your Majesty remarked yesterday in attendance on Madame Henriette."

"She shall have her reward," said Louis. "Let Mademoiselle de la Valliere be the only maid of honor invited to the ball to be given here to-night."

"A ball! Ah, my poor flowers!" cried Le Notre, clasping his hands in despair.

Colbert ventured to remind his Majesty that he had promised to give an audience that evening to two architects, Claude Perrault and Liberal Bruant; of whom, the first was to bring designs for the Observatory; the second, a plan for the Hotel des Invalides.

"Receive these gentlemen yourself," replied the king; "while we are dancing, M. de Colbert will labor for our glory; posterity will never be the wiser! Only, in order to decorate these bare walls, have the goodness to send to the manufactory of the Gobelins, which you have just established, for some of the beautiful tapestry you praise so highly."

Accordingly, to the utter despair of Le Notre, the ball took place in the greenhouses, metamorphosed, as if by magic, into a vast gallery, illumined by a thousand lustres, sparkling amid flowers and precious stones. Each fragrant orange-tree bore wax-lights amid its branches, and many lovely faces gleamed amongst the flowery thickets; while bright eyes watched the footsteps of the mighty master of the revel. The cutting north-east wind blew outside; poor wretches shivered on the pavement; but what did that matter while the court danced and laughed amid trees and flowers, and breathed the soft sweet summer air?

Maria Theresa did not mingle in the scene. Timid and retiring, the young Queen fled from the noisy gayety of the court, and usually remained with her aunt, the Queen Mother. On this occasion, therefore, the ball was presided over by Madame Henriette, and by Olympia Mancini, Countess of Soissons. The gentle La Valliere kept, modestly, in the background, until espied by the King, beneath the magnolia, which her companions had so recklessly despoiled of its flowers, and which had cost them exclusion from the _fete_.

The next moment the hand of Louise trembled in that of her sovereign; for Louis the Fourteenth had chosen the maid of honor for his partner in the dance. At the close of the evening, Le Notre, who had received private orders, brought forward his favorite rose-tree, transplanted into a richly-gilded vase. The poor man looked like a criminal approaching the place of execution. He laid the flower on a raised step near the throne; and on the front of its vase every one read the words which had formerly set Olympus in a flame--"To the most beautiful!"

Many rival belles grew pale when they heard the Duc de Lauzun ordered by Louis to convey the precious rose-tree into the apartment of Mademoiselle de la Valliere. But Le Notre rejoiced, for the fair one gave him leave to come each day and attend to the welfare of his beloved flower.

The rose-tree soon became to the favorite a mysterious talisman by which she estimated the constancy of Louis the Fourteenth. She watched with anxiety all its changes of vegetation, trembling at the fall of a leaf, and weeping whenever a new bud failed to replace a withered blossom. Louise had yielded her erring heart to the dreams of love, not to the visions of ambition. "Tender, and ashamed of being so," as Madame de Sevigne has described her, the young girl mourned for her fault at the foot of the altar. Remorse punished her for her happiness; and more than once has the priest, who read first mass at the chapel of Versailles, turned at the sound of stifled sobs proceeding from the royal recess, and seen there a closely-veiled kneeling figure.

The fallen angel still remembered heaven.

Thus passed ten years. At their end, the rose-tree might be seen placed on a magnificent stand in the Palace of St. Germain; but despite of Le Notre's constant care, the flower bent sadly on its blighted stem. Near it the Duchess de la Valliere (for so she had just been created) was weeping bitterly. Her most intimate friend, Francoise Athenais de Montemar, Comtesse de Montespan, entered, and exclaimed, "What, weeping, Louise! Has not the King just given you the _tabouret_ as a fresh proof of his love?"

Without replying, La Valliere pointed to her rose.

"What an absurd superstition!" cried Madame de Montespan, seating herself near her friend. "'Tis really childish to fancy that the affections of a Monarch should follow the destiny of a flower. Come, child," she continued, playfully slapping the fair mourner's hands with her fan, "you know you are always adorable, and why should you not be always adored!"

"Because another has had the art to supplant me."

Athenais bit her lip. Louise had at length discovered that her pretended friend was seeking to undermine her. On the previous evening the King had conversed for a long time with Madame de Montespan in the Queen's apartments. He had greatly enjoyed her clever mimicry of certain court personages; and when La Valliere had ventured to reproach him tenderly, he had replied--

"Louise, you are silly; your rose-tree speaks untruly when it calumniates me."

None but Athenais, to whom alone it had been confided, could have betrayed the secret. And now, at the entrance of her rival, la Valliere hastened to dry up her tears, but not so speedily as to prevent the other from perceiving them. Her feigned caresses, and ill-disguised tone of triumph, provoked Louise to let her see that she discerned her treachery. But Athenais pretended not to feel the shaft.

"Supplant you, dear Louise!" she said in a tone of surprise; "it would be difficult to do that, I should think, when the King is wholly devoted to you!"

Rising with a careless air, she approached the rose-tree, drew from her glove an almost invisible phial, and, with a rapid gesture, poured on its footstalk the corrosive liquid which the tiny flask contained.

This was the third time that Madame de Montespan had practised this unworthy manoeuvre, unknown to the sorrowful favorite, who, as her insidious rival well knew, would believe the infidelity of the King, only on the testimony of his precious gift.

Next morning, Le Notre found the rose-tree quite dead. The poor old man loved it as if it had been his child, and his eyes were filled with tears as he carried it to its mistress.

Then Louise felt, indeed, that no hope remained. Pale and trembling, she took a pair of scissors, cut off the withered blossom, and placed it under a crystal vase. Afterwards she prayed to Heaven for strength to fulfil the resolution she had made.

The age of Louis the Fourteenth passed away, with its glory and with its crimes. France had now reached that disastrous epoch, when famine and pestilence mowed down the peaceful inhabitants, and Marlborough and Prince Eugene cut the royal army to pieces on the frontiers.

One day, the death-bell tolled from a convent tower in the Rue St. Jacques, and two long files of female Carmelites bore, to her last dwelling, one of the sisters of their strict and silent order. When the last offices were finished, and all the nuns had retired to their cells, an old man came and knelt beside the quiet grave. His trembling hand raised a crystal vase which had been placed on the stone; he took from beneath it a withered rose, which he pressed to his lips, and murmured, in a voice broken by sobs:--

"Poor heart! Poor flower!"

The old man was Le Notre; and the Carmelite nun, buried that morning, was _Sister Louise de la Misericorde_, formerly Duchesse de la Valliere.

From the London Times.

THE STORY OF STUART OF DUNLEATH.[12]

The story is truthful, plaintive, and full of beauty. At a very early age Eleanor Raymond loses her father, who has held a high appointment in India, and news of his death is brought while she is still a child to her mother's house in England. The bearer of the sad intelligence is David Stuart, of Dunleath, the penniless representative of a ruined Scottish house. David had been secretary to Sir John Raymond, whose eyes he had closed, and he comes to the widow recommended to her sisterly love, and the appointed guardian of her youthful daughter. Lady Raymond, it must be added, had been previously married, and is the mother of a burly sailor, promoted by Sir John's interest, and at sea at the time of his stepfather's death. We need not stay to dwell upon the feeble helplessness, physical and mental, of her Ladyship, or to contrast it with the overbearing disposition of her son, whose strong attachment to his mother is the redeeming feature of his character. The young ex-secretary and present guardian proceeds to the fulfilment of his duty, as it seems, with a conscientious mind. His ward is an heiress, and will be surrounded with trials of many kinds. She is fair to behold, ingenuous, trustful, is neglected by her surviving parent,--less from want of affection than from lack of interest--who, then, so suited for monitor and instructor both, as the highly-disciplined and well-informed Stuart himself? David has been a great traveller, has read much, and observed more. His intellect is commanding, and he is noble in form. He notes the quickness of his ward, is captivated by her girlish enthusiasm and untiring zeal. He will engage no masters when he can teach so accurately himself. She requires no instructors but the master from whom she learns so willingly and so well. Perilous devotion of a teacher (it may be of twenty) with so fond a pupil, though her years number but ten! What man of twenty-eight ever thought himself old in the presence of a maiden of eighteen? What girl of eighteen ever deemed herself too young to be wooed and won by a man of twenty-eight? For eight years guardian and ward live under one roof, partaking of the same influences, the same pleasures, the same daily occupations, and divided from all around them by the superiority of their own minds and the congeniality of their pursuits. Pity the poor country girl in constant presence of that cultivated intellect, fine understanding, and beaming countenance, never weary of smiling on her life. What wonder that as the flower expands in beauty it gradually unfolds to blissful consciousness? Eleanor secretly loves her guardian, and glories in the passion. He is poor, but she is rich beyond her wishes, did her wishes comprehend aught else but the desire to make him happy. Dunleath has passed from David Stuart's family. Eleanor has listened a thousand times to her guardian's fond regrets for his lost inheritance, and to the descriptions of that once happy home, the memory of which Stuart carries about with him to darken his best and brightest hours. What privilege to restore the coveted possession to its natural owner, and to enrich herself by parting with the gift! What happiness for the wife of David Stuart to bring back the smile to his cheek, and to purchase a joy for him for ever! Sweet dreamer! She dreams on, until reality begins. Her education ends. She goes at the instance of her mother and half-brother to London. She takes up her abode with a friend of her guardian's, the Lady Margaret Fordyce, and enters upon London life. Lady Margaret is a widow, young, benevolent, and beautiful. The fame of Eleanor's wealth is soon known to fortune-hunters, and suitors crowd about her. One, Sir Stephen Penrhyn, a coarse, sensual, and brutal personage, captivated by her beauty, and sufficiently wealthy himself, proposes in proper form. Godfrey, the half-brother, explains to David Stuart that Eleanor's family approve the match, and require his formal consent to the union. Stuart sends for Eleanor. He points out to her the advantages of the marriage and the wishes of her friends. The child trembles. She cannot marry, she hurriedly says, a man whom she does not love, and moreover she has seen another whom she prefers. Stuart has only one question to ask. "Is that other rich?" "He has no more," replies Eleanor, "than my father bequeathed to you." Stuart's heart beats guiltily as she speaks of her father's bounty, and, with a meaning which the girl fails to interpret, he anxiously bids her mention the favored man's name. The effort is too intense--her heart is nigh to bursting--she faints, and her mother enters her apartment to find her senseless in the arms of her tutor. The last object Eleanor beholds from her window that night, is David Stuart, looking up, with folded arms, to her room.

She rises the next morning to find that Stuart has suddenly quitted the house, having left a sealed letter for her perusal. She reads it. The whole brilliant fabric of her girlhood tumbles down to earth long before she reaches its close. David Stuart loves her not. He is ignorant of her strong affection. He has dissipated her whole vast fortune. With the hope of realizing a sum sufficient to win back Dunleath, he has been tempted to speculations which have beggared his confiding ward. He recommends marriage with Sir Stephen Penrhyn, and takes leave of her for ever, for he has resolved upon self-murder. He asks her to approach the adjacent river on some day of peace and sunshine hereafter--the river which they have so often visited together in sunshine before--to breathe out forgiveness for him there, if she will, and then to forget him. A search is made near the spot indicated. A torn handkerchief hangs on one of the leafless branches; the river is dragged, but the body is not found. Eleanor knows David Stuart is dead, and the knowledge gives color and shape to her remaining days.

Ruin has overtaken the family of Eleanor Raymond, but Sir Stephen Penrhyn is still content with his bargain. He proposed for the person, not for the fortune of Eleanor, and he will take her, beggared as she is. Eleanor's mother needs a home. To give her a sanctuary, Eleanor consents to become Lady Penrhyn. What blessing can attend the union? She gives birth to twins, one a sickly boy, the other ruddy, strong, and full of health. They grow up to become the mother's last and best consolation, and then she loses both by a violent death at one and the same moment. Sir Stephen has a remedy for parental sorrow, which but increases the great woe of Eleanor. What need to refer to it? Eleanor passes the lodge gate on her estate one day to be made aware of her husband's gross infidelity, and to behold living evidences of his guilt. Is her cup of sorrow full? Not yet. She utters no complaint, but bears her yoke of suffering meekly and resignedly, waiting patiently and beseechingly, rather than with murmurs, for the hour of dismissal. Light, however, is to gleam upon the checkered path before the journey closes. Another eight years may have elapsed since David Stuart took his last leave of Eleanor, and a stranger presents himself with unexpected news. Sir Stephen is from home, and a traveller has arrived at his house, with a letter from a distant country. Wondrous disclosure! Stuart lives! Mercifully saved on the night on which he attempted suicide, he proceeded to America, where by dint of years of steady exertion and co-operation with the authors of his former great calamity he contrived to re-establish the affairs of the bankrupt house with which he had connected himself, and to recover the whole of Eleanor's sacrificed patrimony. The bearer of the letter, Mr. Stuart's confidential agent, is authorized to restore her fortune, and to communicate all particulars respecting his past history. Oh, to see the man who had lately seen him living and safe in far off America! She hurries to meet him, and grasps the hand of--David Stuart. When Sir Stephen comes home, at Mr. Stuart's earnest request and against the wish of Eleanor, the guardian is introduced as Mr. Lindsay. "Nothing," he says, "is to be gained by self-betrayal," the more especially as he intends shortly to return to his adopted home. But before Stuart can make up his mind to departure, he is made aware, first of a circumstance which it is much to be wondered has never occurred to him before, viz.: the former perfect uncalculating devotion of his ward; and then of the more poignant fact that misery, suffering, insult, and cruelty had attended her whole married life. Intolerable injury reaches its height! Sir Stephen brings his bastards into his house, and commands his wife to show them respect. Wild with sorrow and indignation, she is advised by Stuart of Dunleath to leave her home, to go to London, to seek a lawyer of eminence, and to sue for a divorce. That obtained, _then_ will come, after much delay, that "happier future," of which the counsellor dares not trust himself to speak. The resolve is taken, the journey is made. But time brings reflection, and reflection, reason. It is not her husband's sin that took her from his roof, but the visionary sin of her own love; it was "the desire to swear at the altar of God to be true to David Stuart till death, that prompted her to plan her breaking of her first vow." She will not undo that vow to indulge her own undying love. Still urged by David Stuart to the act, she resists the great temptation, and retires meekly into solitude, to pay the full penalty of her submission to the call of virtue. To return to the pollution of her husband's house is not to be thought of. To partake of sin with David Stuart is a suggestion not more to be tolerated in her pure and agitated soul.

One other drop, and the cup is full indeed. We have spoken of Lady Margaret Fordyce, but we have thought it unnecessary to mingle the history of that admirable person with the main current of our narrative. Lady Margaret, as we have said, is an old friend of Mr. David Stuart. She has taken a sisterly interest in the career of Eleanor, but has never ascertained from her the secret of her early and pure affection for her guardian. Inheriting a goodly fortune, the first care of Lady Margaret is to purchase the estate of Dunleath. She is not long mistress of it before the recovered property is in the hands of the man who, in his youth, became a criminal in order to possess it. David Stuart marries Lady Margaret Fordyce. Eleanor receives the intelligence while she is languishing abroad under the care of her foster-brother and his wife. The news goes silently to her heart as a lancet might travel thither, giving no external indication of the mortal wound inflicted. But the blood flows unseen within, and life stops, as it needs must, from the cruel laceration. Eleanor dies--still without a murmur. She had borne daily outrage from her husband, and confined the knowledge of her wrongs to her own bosom. She owed her sufferings to the first great fault of her guardian, yet she would never listen to one unkind word against his memory when she deemed him lost, and her love for him suffered no tarnish at any time for his offence. Shall she complain now that he is happy, and is master of Dunleath? She dies indeed broken-hearted, but good, gentle, uncomplaining, and forgiving, to the last.

The characters that move in the various scenes that make up this melancholy play are sketched out with a skilful and well disciplined hand, and are creditable to the authoress's creative powers. Great knowledge of human nature is indicated throughout the work. There is nothing overdrawn; the plot is natural, and the style fluent and poetical.

A word or two are necessary before we close, with reference to one remarkable phenomenon in connection with a leading personage in the drama. By a singular coincidence, not only Mrs. Norton, but every person in the book, is in perfect ignorance of a fact that is present to our mind almost from the first page to the last. David Stuart, of Dunleath, we grieve to say, is not only a very selfish gentleman, but a most accomplished rascal, yet not a human creature, but the reader and ourselves, has the least idea of it. Just look at him! Appointed the guardian of a helpless girl, he makes away with her fortune in a fruitless endeavor to enrich himself. He hears from the maiden's own lips that her heart is irrevocably bestowed upon a man whom she adores, yet he coolly recommends her to form an alliance with a brute for whom she cares nothing at all, in order that she may recover the wealth of which he, the adviser, has deliberately robbed her. Returning to England, and taking up his residence with the husband of his ward, he places the poor girl in a cruelly false position, and all but blasts her reputation, by compelling her to keep a secret, the communicating which could at the worst only occasion him a very trifling inconvenience. Quitting the husband's house, and learning quite soon enough for the lady's happiness that he had been the object of Eleanor's early choice, he advises an action for divorce, promising his hand in the event of a triumphant verdict. Finding the wife more honest than himself, he smothers his affection and looks elsewhere for crumbs of comfort. He finds them at the table of Lady Margaret Fordyce, whom he condescendingly weds, because, we are compelled to suppose, she has Dunleath to throw into the bargain. That Stuart is unnaturally described we will not say; but that Mrs. Norton should be so profoundly ignorant of his faults--should take such pains to hold him up as a high-minded gentleman--that Lady Margaret should imagine him a paragon of perfection and positively adore him--that her brother, the Duke of Lanark, should be "fond of him,"--and that an incalculable amount of respect and love should be thrown away by all parties concerned upon so worthless an object is, we must confess, somewhat disgusting in an age when even the highest merit fails too often of securing its deserts. One good action alone saves David Stuart from utter detestation. He recovered and restored the fortune of Eleanor Raymond--but many a transported forger has been capable of heroism as lofty, with incitements to honesty about as pure.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] _Stuart of Dunleath_: by Mrs. Norton. New-York, Harpers, 1851.

_Authors and Books._

The student of classic mythology, who loves with Hammer Purgstall and Kreutzer to dive into the oriental depths of ancient myths, will welcome the recent appearance of a work by LUDWIG MERCKLIN, entitled _Die Talos-Sage, und das Sardonische Lachen_. The story of Talus, and the Sardonic Laughter--a contribution to the history of Grecian legend and art--St. Petersburg and Leipsic, 1851. In this work we learn that the Cretan Talus was beyond doubt the Phoenician sun-god, and that he was identical with the Athenian of the same name. The Cretan Talus, according to the mythological account, was a brazen image, which Vulcan gave to Minos, or Jupiter to Europa. He defended the island by heating himself in the fire and embracing his enemies. More literal commentators have attempted to prove that Talus was a brazen statue or beacon, like the Colossus of Rhodes, placed by the Phoenicians on the Cretan promontory. The Athenian Talus, inventor of the compass and saw, was slain by his uncle Daedalus, who was envious of his talent. The gods changed him to a partridge. After identifying the twain, Mercklin attempts to prove that the elements of this myth are to be sought in the ancient dogmas of lustration, and that they may be still further referred to the worship of Apollo. In connection with this Talus legend, he closely scrutinizes the account of the so called Sardonic laughter, and its relation to the same religious rites. "In conclusion, he discusses those ancient works of art which illustrate this subject, namely, the medals of Phaistos and the celebrated vase of Ruvo, of which he gives a new, and on the whole certainly correct account." In connection with this work we may notice another which appeared in April, entitled _Bellerophon_, by HERMAN ALEX. FISCHER. From the subject we infer that this Fischer is identical with _Vischer_ who published three years ago one of the best _AEsthetics_ on philosophies of art, ever written even in Germany. We are told in a short notice, that the author attempts, by a study of the myth of Bellerophon and those works of art relating to it, including the etymological signification of the name, to establish the identity of Bellerophon with the sun-god. [Greek: Phontes] is by him derived or varied from [Greek: Thantes] and [Greek: Bellero], explained as identical with [Greek: Helios], [Greek: ele], [Greek: selas], and [Greek: selene].

* * * * *

Some anonymous scribbler in Berlin has recently put forth a treatise on free trade, entitled _Tempus omnia revelat_: of which a reviewer, in conjecturing the cause of its publication, remarks, that "as it treats generally of every thing else besides free trade, it is probable that the Free Trade Union have not deemed it worth while to hear him through."

* * * * *

Among the more recent curiosities of German medical literature, we find that JOS. HEINRICH BEISEN of Quedlinburg, has written a work on homoepathy as applicable to the diseases of swine. J. HOPPE of Magdeburg, has set forth another, entitled _Linen and cotton Garments considered in a medical light_, which is highly recommended by a competent judge. C. GEROLD, of Vienna, publishes for the Count (and physician--we know not which is the more honorable title)--VON FEUCHTERSLEBEN, a singular book, entitled _Zur Diaetetik der Seele, Valere aude!_ which is not, however, as one might infer from the title, a theory of the method whereby the health of the soul itself may be preserved; but the art of regulating our physical well being by a correct management and strengthening of our mental powers. Count Feuchtersleben had already attained a reputation as a writer, and the work referred to, though in many particulars superficial, is not without merit. Last and least, Dr. GIDEON BRECHER, hospital physician at Pressnitz, publishes through Asher & Co., in Berlin, an octavo on _Transcendental Magic, and the supernatural methods of curing Disease, as given in the Talmud_, in which he enters largely into Theo-Daemon and Angelology; as well as dreams, visions, biblical seraphims, cosmic and magic influences of the soul, with a scattering fire of amulets, spells and charms. We congratulate the medical faculty on this important addition to the literature of the healing art.

* * * * *

No department of ancient art is more interesting, or indeed more necessary to the student, than that relating to theatres and other aids to the practical illustration of dramatic art. No characteristic of modern continental life, is so striking to the traveller as the earnestness with which the opera is discussed by all classes, and its powerful influence upon social life in nearly every relation. But even the earnest attention which is directed at the present day in Naples or Vienna to some new incarnation of the all governing spirit of amusement, is nothing when compared with the same as it existed among the ancients, to whom it was literally _life_. '_Panem et circenses_'--bread and the public games--with these the Roman citizen of the later empire, like the modern lazzarone, with his maccaroni and San Carlino, could dream away life and be happy. Mindful of the importance of this branch of ancient art in its manifold relations, FRIED. WIESELER has recently set forth a book,[13] declared by competent authority to be the best in the world on this subject. He has chosen judiciously from the immense mass of material extant; and according to the prescribed limits conveyed all the information possible. "The first part of the work embraces a series of well executed plans and outlines of ancient theatres, of different countries and ages, with every requisite detail, followed by engravings and descriptions of every particular pertaining to the representation of plays. This is succeeded by an admirable collection of masks, scenes, figures and costumes, illustrative not only of the ancient drama, but also of its subdivisions of comedy, tragedy, the satyr-drama and the Italian phylace, with singing and music. The illustrations are admirably accurate--more particularly the colored plates of the Cyrenaean wall paintings, and the mosaics of the Vatican, by which the rare and costly work of MILLI is rendered unnecessary." More than one eminent German authority speaks in terms of high praise, of the accuracy and unwearied erudition which characterize the accompanying test.

* * * * *

The second and third parts of the _Holzschnitte Deruehmter Meister_, or woodcuts of celebrated masters, have made their appearance, containing, 1st. smaller woodcuts by Hans Holbein the younger (A. D., 1498-1554), being selections from the Dance of Death, and the Peasants' and Children's Alphabets; 2d. a large engraving after Michael Wohlzemuth (1434-1519), being the Glorification of Christ, and a Madonna and child of Hans Buerkmayer's; also, from the Dutch school, after Dirk de Bray (ob. 1680), a portrait of the artist's father, and the celebrated engraving of Rembrandt's, known as the philosopher with the hour-glass. For the information of artists we mention that these copies are executed with exquisite accuracy, and that the work, though gotten up in every particular in the most elegant manner, is afforded at a very moderate price.

* * * * *

Recent German poetry offers little for remark. TELLKAMPF has published a poem in hexameters in the style of Goethe's Hermann and Dorothea, founded upon an incident in the battle of Leipsic, called _Irmengard_. It has passed into a second edition. EMIL LEONHARD, a poet not unknown, has written a poem upon Buerger, whose wild life had already furnished Mueller subject for a romance and Mosenthal for a drama, and which is too unpleasant to be made attractive even by the poetic talent of Leonhard. We note, however an interesting work, entitled _Prussia's Mirror of Honor_, a collection of Prussian national songs, from the earliest period to the year 1840. They have much allusion to old Fritz, and are interesting as an indication of the popular feeling, which is always expressed in such songs, toward that national hero.

* * * * *

An interesting contribution to contemporary history is I. VENEDY'S _Schleswig-Holstein in 1850_. A diary.

* * * * *

HERMAN FRITSCHE, of Leipsig, has recently published a work by one SOHNLAND SCHUBAUER, entitled _Consecrated souvenirs of the virtues of our earliest ancestors: Collected with the aid of a Philologist_. This book we are told contains (though we should never have inferred it from the title), a collection and explanation of old German proper names, both masculine and feminine. The author in his preface gives it as his opinion that since the introduction of Christianity "a dreadful thousand-year-long night has brooded over Germany, and that the best method of dissipating this darkness, would be to revive the old German proper names!" "The poet discovers the sanctity of these primitive German names in the holy star-night, and he will, the higher these rise to the ideal, find in them a full accord with holy nature." His principal sources are the verbal assertions of Dr. ALEX. VOLLMER: for example in page 1st, where he questions whether "ANNO" signifies a year, and decides that it is originally German, from _an_, _un_ and _unst_; to which add a G, whence results _Gunst_, meaning good fortune, success, or favor!--a bit of ingenuity which reminds us of several scraps of Horne Tooke's comic philology, as well as the glove-maker's motto, _Kunst macht Gunst_--skill makes (or wins) success. Dr. Vollmer is an amiable and hard-working scholar of immense erudition, and possessed of a boundless enthusiasm on the subject of early German and Gothic dialects. We regret that his learning should be lent to the support of such singular vagaries.

* * * * *

CARL GUTZKOW, who seemed by his first literary failure, the _Walley_, in 1835, to have sunk irretrievably, but has since risen to a brilliant eminence by the publication of _Uriel Akasta_, the _Zopf und Schwert_, and other writings, has recently put forth another, noticed as the _Ritter von Geiste_. G. REIMER at Berlin, has published the first volume of a second edition of BOeCKH'S inestimable work, _Die Staatshaushaltung der Athener_--the political economy of the Athenians. Prof. ANT. GUBITZ, the celebrated wood engraver, publisher of an annual comic almanac, and in fact the father of all the popular German illustrated almanacs of the present day, has written and published three dramas, entitled _The Emperor Henry and his Sons_, _Sophonisba_, and _Johann der Ziegler_.

* * * * *

_Macchiavelli und der Gang der Europaeischen Politik_ (Macchiavelli, and the Course of European Policy), by THEODORE MUNDT, is the last discussion of the political system of the "Regent of the Devil." The doctrines of _The Prince_ Herr Mundt supposes have influenced the late reactionary events in Germany, and he thinks that work will again be the favorite text-book of despots. His exposition of the character and doctrines of Machiavelli, and his influence on European policy, is an interesting historical study.

The German press is no less prolific of novels than that of England and America. We observe the last month _Stories and Pictures from the Bohemian Forest_, by JOSEPH RANK, a romance of provincial life, not without interest; _The Children of God_, by MAX RING, a story of the court of Augustus the Strong, and of the origin of the sect of the Herrnhutters. Its sketches of character are called sprightly and successful. _The Castle of Ronceaux_, from an old manuscript, is an episode from the history of the Huguenot war. A piquant title is that of Madame IDA VON DURINGSFELD'S book, _A Pension_ (boarding-house) _upon the Lake of Geneva, two Romances in one house_, which recalls the stories of the Countess Hahn-Hahn before she ceased writing pleasant tales for us, and began histories of religious experience. But with less talent, the present author has more knowledge of men. The book is _sent la Politique_ a little too much. But German ladies who write books love to say a word in them about every thing.

_A Pilgrim and his Companions_ is still another romance, by LORENZO DIEFFENBACH, not of a religions tone, as the title suggests, but purely political. It is a story of the German "March-Days," the days of Revolution. The author is bold and large in thought, but the want of sharp outline in his characters indicates the poor or unpractised artist. _The Oath_ is the appropriately melodramatic title of a romance of the Venetian Inquisition, by DAVID. It is well written, simple and natural. Remarkable qualities with so passionate a theme.

* * * * *

LUDWIG BAUER has published through G. Jonghaus of Darmstadt, a work which reminds us of the _Chronica Jocelini de Brakelonda_, being the _Urkundenbuch des Klosters Arnsburg in d. Wetterau_, containing as yet unprinted documents of the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, relating to the history of the monastery. We are happy to observe that notwithstanding the check given to general literature by the recent political troubles in Germany, this department of mediaeval antiquity is rapidly advancing. When we remember the immense amount of material as yet unavailable which is still requisite to form an accurate history of the middle ages, with _reliable_ accounts of its varied literature and customs, or when we reflect on the spoil and devastation which every day brings to the ancient hoard, we should feel grateful to those untiring antiquaries, who thus rescue a few literary gems from the flood of time.

* * * * *

The _Manuscripts of Peter Schlemil_, naturally awakens attention, but proves to be an extravaganza of LOUIS BECHSTEIN, humorous and intelligent withal. But the humor is not intelligible, and the intelligence is not humorous, says a sharp reviewer.

* * * * *

PROF. O. L. B. WOLFF, well known to every amateur German scholar in this country and England, as the publisher of the celebrated _Poetischer und Prosaischer Hausschatz_, or Poetic and Prosaic Home Treasury, has edited and published by Otto Wigand of Leipsic, that singular romance of _Caspar von Grimmelshausen_, first printed in 1669, which is, as a picture of German social life during the period of the thirty years' war, extremely interesting. We need, however, hardly caution our lady readers against its perusal. Its title is as follows: _Der abenteuerliche Simplicius Simplicissimus_. The adventurous Simplicius Simplicissimus. That is the true, copious, and very remarkable biography of an odd, wonderful and singular man, STERNFELS VON FUCHSHEIM, how he passed his youth in Spessart, of his varied and remarkable destinies in the thirty years' war, and of the numerous sufferings, sorrows and dangers which he experienced, with his ultimate good fortune.

* * * * *

A German critic, who of course belongs to the conservative party, writing under date of June 16, says of Miss HELEN WEBER, the inventor of the hybrid costume which _Punch_ satirizes as an _American_ absurdity, that "except in a certain disregard of public decencies there is nothing by which to distinguish her from the mass of vulgar women of the middling classes; she is about thirty-five years of age, and appears to be willing to do or say any thing that may be required for the attraction of observation; from her writings, throw out what is stolen or compiled, and there is nothing left to evince even a mediocrity of talent." This is less favorable than an account we published in an early number of the _International_ (vol. i. 463), but it may be quite as just.

* * * * *

When Professor ZAHN sojourned in Naples, he took an active part in the excavations of Pompeii--studies which eventually led to the publication of his meritorious work on this subject. At the same time he faithfully reported the progress of these operations to old Goethe. The poet's replies to these communications on the ancient paintings of Pompeii, its theatres, and other buildings, were replete with those sparks of genius he exhibited on every occasion. This rather voluminous correspondence, long laid up at Naples, has been lately discovered, and will be published by Professor Zahn.

* * * * *

_Geschichte der Deutschen Stadte und des Deutschen Burgerthums_ (History of the Cities of Germany, and of German Citizenship), by F. W. BARTHOLD, is the first of a series of painstaking and exhausting books of German historical materiel, in course of publication by Weizel, of Leipsic. The style of treatment resembles that adopted in _The Pictorial History of England_, which will make the work easy of reference.

* * * * *

DR. CORNILL publishes a dissertation upon Louis Feuerbach and his position toward the religion and philosophy of the present time. The author finds in every thing the famous professor does a farther religious development. But it is very doubtful if Feurbach has advanced at all since his memorable essay in the Halle _Book of the Year_, upon the relation of philosophy to theology. Since then he has only varied this theme, and his last work, upon the transcendental thesis _Man is what he eats_, in which the worthy Professor with Teutonic energy seeks to seduce the immorality of the age from the potato disease, the German critics declare to be totally devoid of that bold and thoughtful spirit which formerly fought so well for the emancipation of the understanding from its long scholastic thraldom.

* * * * *

A most mystical and metaphysical treatise is that of ERNST, _A new Book of the Planets, or Mikro and Makrokosmos_. It sings with Klopstock of the souls of the stars. It speculates with Jacob Boehme, with Retif de la Bretonne, with the Rabbins, and other mighty mystics, upon the origin of thought. The essential difference in speculative science between ether and thought, the unity of matter and spirit, the eternity and evanescence of matter, the thoughts, feelings, and sensations of God, and the final explication of the trinity. All this and more. In fine, says a German critic, it is a very jocose book, strongly to be commended for the consolation of political prisoners.

* * * * *

WALDMEISTER'S _Bridal-Tour_, a story of the Rhine, Wine, and Travel, is the pleasant and appropriate title of the last book of OTTO ROQUETTE. It is the story of a spring tour along the Rhine. The fire of its wine, the golden gleam of its vineyards, the faint, penetrant delicacy of the grape-blossom, the luring look of the Love-Lei, the mystery of ruins, the distant baying of the wild huntsman's pack,--they all breathe, and bloom, and sound through the little book. It is a genuine song of spring. The poet is young,--he feels, dreams, and sings--what needs poet more?

* * * * *

A German version of Copway the Indian's work is announced under the title of _Kah-ge-ga-gah-bouh, Hauptling d'Ojibway Nation: Die Ojibway Eroberung_: Translated from the English, by N. ADLER, and published at Frankfort-on-the-Main. This we presume is an after-shot from the Peace Convention.

* * * * *

Among the new books announced in Germany we see _The Institutions of the United States, and their Lessons of American Experience to Europe_. It appears to be anonymous. One or two other German works on this country we shall notice particularly in our next number.

* * * * *

Russian literature is gradually made accessible to the general student by German and French translations, and we shall soon begin to learn more of the mysterious despotism that towers like a fateful cloud along the eastern horizon of Europe, in its influence upon social and artistic life. The publisher Brockhaus of Leipsic has recently issued a collection in three volumes of the Russian novelists. Yet, whether from the want of tact in the selection or from the absence of characteristic qualities in the tales themselves, the authors are weakest in their delineation of popular life and manners, in this resembling fine society in Russia, which ignores _Russianism_, and believes in Parisian manners, language, and life, every thing but Parisian politics. Among the authors whose works are quoted we note ALEXANDER PUSHKIN, the pride of Russian literature, born in 1799, and died in a duel in 1837. HELENA HAHN, born in 1815, who, married at sixteen to a soldier, travelled through a large part of Russia, and died in 1832. Her novels were first published after her death, but seem to be not of the highest merit. ALEXANDER HERZEN, born in 1812, has zealously studied Hegel, and written a series of humorous tales, the best of which is called _Taras Bulwa_. Since 1847 he has been a wanderer, pursued as a democrat, and now proposes to visit the United States.

* * * * *

The Emperor of Austria has appointed AARON WOLFGANG MESSELEY, a Jew, Professor of Criminal Law at the University of Prague. M. Messeley had long filled the chair of the Hebrew Language and Literature in the same University. The numbers of Jews now attached as professors to the different universities and educational establishments in the Austrian states is seventeen; of whom fifteen were named by the late Emperor, and two by the present.

* * * * *

ALEXANDER DUMAS, who, as a simple story writer is perhaps deserving of the highest place in the temple of letters--whose _Three Guardsmen_, with its several continuations, making some twenty volumes, is the most entertaining, and in certain characteristics the best sustained novel written in our days,--announces in Paris a new tale, _Un Drame de '93_, and he occupies the _feuilleton_ of the _Presse_ every week with another, _Ange Pitou_, of which the scene and time are also France during the first revolution.

* * * * *

MADAME CHARLES REYBAUD, authoress of _The Cadet de Calobrieres_, has just published another story, _Faustine_, wherein provincial life in France is daguerreotyped.

* * * * *

Among the announcements in Paris we notice one of the tenth volume of THIERS'S _Histoire du Consulat_. The eleventh volume is also said to be nearly ready.

* * * * *

M. MIGNET has nearly completed his _Life and Times of Mary, Queen of Scots_, the third work on the subject produced in France within a year and a half. Mignet, however, is the most eminent person who has ever essayed this service, and he has had some peculiar and important advantages. He has made use of the collection of letters published by Prince Labanoff; of researches made in the State Paper Office of England by Mr. Tytler, and of other unpublished documents which he has himself collected, in order to form more correct opinions with regard to some of the darkest and most controverted events in the queen's life. These documents, chiefly from the archives of Spain, (to which M. Mignet was enabled to obtain access only at the express request of the French Government,) are of much importance, for they bring to light the negotiations carried on with Philip II. for the deliverance of Mary from her imprisonment--a part of her history to which previous biographers have paid little attention.

* * * * *

In the political literature of France a new pamphlet by CORMENIN is remarkable. It is entitled _Revision_, and its substance is this: Having recounted the history of the Republican Charter, elaborated during many months by men especially delegated to the work, and by a suffrage really universal, debated long and earnestly in the committee, amended by the eighteen delegates of the assembly, reviewed by the commission, deliberated by the chamber, discussed by the press,--M. Cormenin establishes that this constitution, so elaborately matured, if it has nothing which promises eternal duration, yet satisfies all the conditions essential to present permanence, and will well lead the nation to that moment, when, personal passion being somewhat allayed, it may be wisely and conscientiously reviewed. This is the pith of the pamphlet. It appeals to no passions, and justifies no excess, and is a notable and intelligent effort at the resolution of the question.

* * * * *

M. DE MARCELLUS, an old French ambassador, has published two volumes entitled _Literary Episodes in the East_. His oriental travel dates back as far as 1818, but the beautiful vision has pursued him ever since, and he knew no better way to lay it than by painting it, and making it real. The volume opens with a confession that all travel and all scenery have only reminded him most strongly of his eastern experiences, and that now, chilled with age, and hoping nothing of the future, he has especial pleasure in recurring to the past. It is a series of colloquial, familiar sketches and anecdotes, and will doubtless be a pleasant companion for the eastern tour. M. de Marcellus will follow this work with _A Collection of Popular Songs in Greece_.

* * * * *

VICTOR HUGO, who has always been opposed to the punishment of death, and whose _Last Days of Condemned_, one of his most powerful fictions, had a large influence every where against the death penalty, was lately before the Court of Assizes in Paris as an advocate in behalf of his son, who was on trial for publishing an article calculated to bring into disrespect the administrators of the law. The veteran poet was allowed to deliver an elaborate and characteristic harangue in defence of the article. He tasked himself for his most brilliant antithetical rhetoric, denouncing the scaffold, and the legislation of death. The son, however, was convicted, and sentenced to a fine of five hundred francs and imprisonment for six months.

Victor Hugo has published a volume containing twelve speeches delivered on various occasions while he has been a _representant du peuple_. They are on the Bonaparte family, the punishment of death, universal suffrage, the liberty of the press, the affairs of Rome, &c., and are all written with the author's customary fine rhetoric; indeed in thought and style they are among his best performances.

* * * * *

MADAME BOCARME, who probably was a party to the late murder of her brother, for which her husband the Count de Bocarme is to be executed, was an intimate friend of Balzac. The great novelist dedicated one of his works to her, and another of them was written in the Chateau de Bitremont. Balzac, while on a visit to the chateau, was taken to see a farmer, and, as usual, interested himself so much in the cattle, that after an hour's conversation he was amused to find that, the farmer had taken him, H. de Balzac, the brilliant Parisian, for a cattle dealer! The forthcoming memoirs of Balzac will perhaps contain something about this woman, who seems to have won for herself the execration of all France.

* * * * *

The Paris correspondent of the _Literary Gazette_ affirms that, on the whole, the French press has gained by the regulation requiring signatures to original articles. The abler class of contributors have profited greatly, as they have obtained a position in popular esteem, and consequently a claim on their employers, which years of anonymous drudgery would not have secured. Nor have readers, it is remarked, any cause to complain; for "men, remembering that 'those who live to please must please to live,' take far greater pains with the articles to which they have to attach their names, than to those which are unsigned."

* * * * *

M. ARAGO, the great astronomer, who is passing the summer at the mineral springs of Vichy, is nearly blind, and probably will entirely lose his sight. His brother, who is likewise a man of extraordinary abilities, has been blind many years.

* * * * *

GEORGE SAND dedicates her last performance to DUMAS, "because," she says, "I wish to protest against the tendency that may be attributed to me of regarding the absence of action as a systematic reaction against the school of which you are the chief. Far from me such a blasphemy against movement and life! I am too fond of your works; I read them and listen to them with too much attention and emotion; I am too much an artist in feeling to wish the slightest lessening of your triumphs. Many believe that artists are necessarily jealous of each other. I pity those who believe it, pity them for having so little of the artist as not to understand that the idea of assassinating our rivals would be that of our own suicide."

* * * * *

_A Critical History of the Philosophical School of Alexandria_ is the title of a work of serious philosophical claims, by M. VACHEROT. He had already published two volumes analyzing and developing the doctrines of the Alexandrian philosophy. In the present volume he has traced its influence upon the subsequent schools, passing in review Plotinus and his successors. The scope of the work invites and permits a discussion of the profoundest problems that now agitate the world of thought, and M. Vacherot has the credit of acquitting himself adequately and admirably of his task.

* * * * *

ROUSSEAU, on his death, left several papers to his friend Moulton, and the heirs of that person, in 1794, caused them to be deposited in the public library of Neufchatel, in Switzerland. There they have remained unknown until a few weeks since, when M. Bovet, of that town, examined them, and found that they embraced an essay entitled _Avant-propos et Preface a mes Confessions_, which has just been printed. Of course it will appear with all future editions of the Confessions.

* * * * *

BALZAC, besides his _Memoirs_, which are soon to appear in Paris, it is now stated left two other works, one a romance called _Les Paysans_, finished only a short time before his death, the other a collection of confidential letters to a lady, in which, it is said, he took pleasure in laying bare the secrets of his heart, and his real opinion of men and things.

* * * * *

M. NISARD was a few weeks ago received into the _Academie Francaise_. He succeeds the late M. Feletz, and has written a history of French literature, a book of _etudes_ on the Latin poets, and superintended a translation of all the Latin writers.

* * * * *

M. GAUTIER, formerly a deputy from the Gironde, a peer of France, Minister of Finance, and sub-governor of the Bank of France, has published a volume _On the Causes which disturb Order in France, and the means of Reestablishing it_.

* * * * *

GUIZOT is about to publish the _Histoire des Origines du Gouvernement Representatif_. This is a new work, being the revised issue of his lectures from 1820 to 1822, which have never yet been printed, except in the imperfect _comptes rendus_ of the _Journal des Cours Public_.

* * * * *

_Le Drame de '93_, by ALEXANDRE DUMAS, turns out to be a narrative of the Revolution, in his rapid dramatic style.

* * * * *

M. PIERRE DUFOUR is publishing a work of great value entitled the _History of Prostitution among all Nations and at all Times_.

* * * * *

A cheap edition of the chief writings on affairs, by EMILIE DE GIRARDIN, is published in eleven volumes.

* * * * *

_Mademoiselle de Belle Isle_, written by Dumas for Mademoiselle Mars--a sprightly, dissolute comedy, full of the life which animates the _Memoires_ of the time, and complicated in its construction with the skill of a Lope de Vega--was translated in New-York a year or two ago by Mrs. Fanny Kemble Butler, and brought out at the Astor Place Opera House. Our theatre-going people, however, declined a piece so broadly licentious, and it was soon withdrawn. We see that another version of it has been made in London, and that it has been played there very successfully.

* * * * *

The London editors lack something of the honesty of the Americans: they never give credit for an article, but if making up an entire number of a periodical from American sources, would permit their readers to suppose it all original. _Sharpe's Magazine_ is particularly addicted to this infirmity, and the July issue of it contains our excellent friend the Rev. F. W. Shelton's paper on _Boswell, the Biographer_, which appeared originally in _The Knickerbocker_.

* * * * *

The REV. CHARLES KINGSLEY, Jr., rector of Eversley, best known to American readers as the author of the Chartist novel of _Alton Locke_, and _Yeast, a Problem_, has been an industrious writer. He is now about fifty years of age, and besides the above works and a vast number of papers in _Fraser's Magazine_, he has published _The Christian Socialist(!)_, _Politics for the People_, _Village Sermons_, and _The Saint's Tragedy_--in point of art the best of his performances. We see by the English papers that he preached a sermon lately in Fitzroy Square, London, on the "Gospel Message to the Poor." It was so full of "socialistic" thoughts, and so severe on the richer classes, that the rector of the church, when he had finished, arose in his pew, and protested vehemently against its doctrines. The congregation dispersed in great disorder.

We doubt whether any living Englishman is capable of surpassing Sir Bulwer Lytton's version of the Ballads of Schiller, but Mr. EDGAR ALFRED BOWRING, a son of the well-known Dr. Bowring who has published translations from so many languages, has just published a volume entitled _The Poems of Schiller complete, including all his early Suppressed Pieces, attempted in English_. The word "complete" expresses its difference from the many Schillers in English that have previously appeared. An _Anthology_ edited by Schiller in 1782, when he had just commenced his career, contains several poems which the critics recognize as his. This remained unknown, however, except as a literary curiosity, till a few months ago; and several of the poems had been omitted in all the collections of Schiller's works. But the republication of the _Anthology_ has brought to light the suppressed poems (in number twenty-eight, comprising nearly twelve hundred verses), and those are translated for the first time by Mr. Bowring, whose versions are much commended.

* * * * *

Among the new books of English verse, some of the most noticeable are _The Fair Island, in Six Cantos_, by EDMUND PEEL: in the Spenserian measure, with passages of fair description; _Ballad Romances_, by R. H. HORNE, author of "Orion," &c.--a book containing genuine poetry; _The Reign of Avarice_, an allegorical satire, in four cantos; _Philosophy in the Fens_, in the style of Peter Pindar; and _Marican_, a Chilian tale, by HENRY INGLIS.

* * * * *

WARREN, the author of "Ten Thousand a Year," has just published a new novel under the title of _The Lily and the Bee, a Romance of the Crystal Palace_. The name savors of the huckster, and we shall look for a more melancholy failure than his last previous performance.

* * * * *

MR. LEVI WOODBURY'S _Miscellaneous Writings, Addresses, and Judicial Opinions_, will be published in four octavo volumes, by Little & Brown, of Boston.

* * * * *

The _North American Review_ for the July quarter is in many respects characteristic. Six months after every Review published in Great Britain had had its paper on Southey, and when the subject is quite worn out, the _North American_ furnishes us with a leading article upon it, in which there is neither an original thought nor a new combination of thoughts that are old. Colton's _Public Economy_ gives a title to an article, in which the book is treated superciliously, and some ideas by Henry C. Carey are presented as the original speculations of the reviewer. It is deserving of remark that the _Past and Present_, and more recent works of Mr. Carey, which among thinking men throughout the world have commanded more attention than any other writings in political philosophy during the last five years, have never been even referred to in this periodical, which arrogates to itself the leadership of American literature. The eighth article of the number is on the Unity of the Human Race, and considering the place it occupies in the _North American Review_, for July, 1851, it is contemptible. It is based on five publications made in England previous to 1847, and ignores all the research and discussion since that time, notwithstanding the facts that the subject never was so amply, so profoundly, or so luminously discussed as during the last year--that the very writers referred to in the article have for the chief part published their most important treatises upon it since 1847--that within six months its literature has received large accessions in France, Germany, and Italy,--and that in _our own country_, of whose intellectual advancement this Review is bound to give some sort of an index, the four years since Latham's "Present State and Recent Progress of Ethnological Philosophy" appeared, have furnished important works by Albert Gallatin, Mr. Hale of the Exploring Expedition, the Rev. Dr. Bachman, the Rev. Dr. Smyth, and several others, all of which should have been considered in any new, especially in any American _resume_ of the discussion. Johnston's _Notes on North America_ is treated with a spleen excited by the author's refusal to recognize the greatness assumed for certain persons connected with Harvard College, and Mr. Bowen is weak enough to say, or to permit a contributor to say, "we _understand_(!) Mr. Johnston has a high reputation," &c. Pish! And what does the reader suppose is the theme--the fresh, before unheard-of theme--of another paper? what new star, in the heaven of mind, demanded most the exploration and illustration of the _North American Review_, for this July quarter, in 1851? The best guesser of riddles would not in fifty years hit upon Mr. Gilfillan's book of rigmarole entitled _The Bards of the Bible_, but this performance, which had been criticised in every other quarterly, monthly, weekly, and daily, in the English language, that would descend to it, crowds out the subjects of "great pith and moment" upon which a periodical of such claims should have spoken with wise authority.

Our own country is full of suggestive topics for thoughtful, earnest, and learned men, and it is fit that the closet should send out its instruction to calm the turbulence awakened by tempests from the rostrum--that affairs should be subjected to the criticism of experience, and that what is new in discovery, in opinion, or in suggestion, should have quick and popular recognition and justice. We need--we must have--for this purpose a powerful and really national _Review_, to reflect and guide the life and aspirations of the country.

* * * * *

We mentioned some time ago that Mr. WILLIAM W. STORY, a son of the late Justice Story, was preparing for the press a life of his father, and we now understand that the work will soon be ready, in two large octavo volumes, to be published by Little & Brown. It will come too late. Such a memoir would have been very well received any time within a year after Judge Story's death: now the public mind is settled in an unalterable conviction that Judge Story was an over-rated man, and a consideration of the processes by which his fame was acquired is likely for a long time to sink it below its just level. We but echo the opinion of more than one eminent person connected with the very school in which he was a teacher, as well as the common judgment of the leading men of the profession in all the states, when we say that Judge Story was not a great lawyer; two or three of his books were good, but the rest were made for cash profits, and sold by means of ingenious advertising. Now they will answer for the country courts, and the inferior courts of the cities, where no opposing lawyer has enough wit and knowledge to oppose Story against Story, but they are no longer weighty authorities, and every term they are found to be of declining influence. As a man of letters, Judge Story's rank will be still lower. He has left nothing to carry his name into another age. Yet he was a man of much professional learning, of taste, sagacity, an extraordinary command of his resources, and a most amiable and pleasing character, and his memoirs and correspondence, if fitly presented, will constitute an attractive and valuable contribution to the history of American society.

* * * * *

For several years it has been known to many students of our early history, that Mr. LYMAN C. DRAPER was devoting his time and estate, and faculties admirably trained for such pursuits, to the collection of whatever materials still exist for the illustration of the lives of the Western Pioneers. He has carefully explored all the valley of the Mississippi, under the most favorable auspices--by his intelligence and enthusiasm and large acquaintance with the most conspicuous people, commended to every family which was the repository of special traditions or of written documents--and he has succeeded in amassing a collection of MS. letters, narratives, and other papers, and of printed books, pamphlets, magazines, and journals, more extensive than is possessed by many of the state historical societies, while in character it is altogether and necessarily unique. He proposes soon to publish his first work, _The Life and Times of General George Rogers Clarke_, (whose papers have been long in his possession, and whose surviving Indian fighters and other associates he has personally visited), in two octavo volumes, to be followed by shorter historical memoirs of Colonel Daniel Boone, General Simon Kenton, General John Sevier of East Tennessee, General James Robertson, Captain Samuel Brady, Colonel William Crawford, the Wetzells, &c., &c. The field of his researches, it will be seen, embraces the entire sweep of the Mississippi, every streamlet flowing into which has been crimsoned with the blood of sanguinary conflicts, every sentinel mountain looking down to whose waves has been a witness of more terrible and strange vicissitudes and adventures than have been invented by all the romancers.

* * * * *

The _Dublin University Magazine_ is not very kind in the matter of the American poem of _Frontenac_, but suggests that as the author's name is STREET, he cannot object to being "walked into."

* * * * *

MRS. SOUTHWORTH'S story of _Retribution_ is being republished in _Reynolds's Miscellany_, edited by G. W. M. Reynolds, the novelist. Those who are acquainted with the productions of Reynolds will perhaps recognize the fitness of the association.

* * * * *

MRS. MOWATT, who has just returned from a professional residence in England, we understand will soon give the public a collection of her miscellaneous writings, prefaced by Mary Howitt. The authoress of _The Fortune Hunter_, under various signatures, has been a very voluminous as well as a very clever writer. She will in a few weeks appear at the Broadway Theatre.

* * * * *

MISS BEECHER has published (through Phillips & Sampson of Boston), her _True Remedy for the Wrongs of Women_, and the book is much below her reputation. From a person of her character and unquestionable abilities, we looked for a rebuke of those females who have unsexed themselves, such a rebuke as should have brought to life all the latent shame in their natures, and for ever prevented any renewals of the melancholy displays they have made of an unfeminine passion for notoriety. The "wrongs of woman," in the state of New-York at least, are purely ideal; here woman has all the privileges and protections compatible with her destined offices in a civilized society. She undoubtedly has a share of the sufferings to which human nature is subject, but has literally nothing to complain of at the hands of man in the social organization. The individual wrongs of which she is the victim, are for the most part penalties of individual indiscretions, and the remedy for them is to be found in the education of woman for her proper sphere and duties, such education as shall develope her capacities for the relations of domestic life, most of all, for maternity. Miss Beecher treats parties with respect who are entitled to no respect, acknowledges evils which do not exist, and proposes for the elevation of female character plans of very questionable influence.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] WIESELER, FRIEDRICH. Theatergebaeude und Denkmaler des Buhnenwesens, beiden Gricchen und Roemern. Goettingen, 1851. Vandenhoeik und Ruprecht.

_The Fine Arts._

All Europe abounds in memorials of illustrious men, and in the present time there is more than ever before a disposition manifested to consecrate art to the honor of the benefactors of mankind, or to those who have been most eminent for great qualities. From Munich, we learn by the latest journals, that two colossal statues--those of Gustavus Adolphus and of the Swedish poet Tegner--have just been cast at the royal foundry of that capital, with complete success. Both were modelled by Schwanthaler, and are destined for public places in the city of Stockholm. In France, the inhabitants of Andelys have been inaugurating a statue of Nicolas Poussin, with great ceremonial. On the same day a statue to Poisson, an eminent mathematician, was inaugurated with pomp, at his native place, Pithiviers, near Orleans. A little before, one was erected to Froissart, the quaint old chronicler of knightly deeds, at Valenciennes, where he was born. Jeanne Hachette is about to have one at Beauvais; Gresset, the author of '_Vert Vert_', at Amiens; and the village of Rollot, in Picardy, has just caused to be placed in its public square a bust of the translator into French of the _Thousand and One Nights_, Antony Galland. He was sent by Colbert to the East on account of his great knowledge of the Hebrew and other oriental languages, and on his return published the Arabian Nights, and a treatise on the origin of coffee.

There is, in fact, scarcely a Frenchman of real eminence in poetry, literature, war, science, statesmanship, or the arts, who is not honored with a statue, either in his birthplace, or in the town made his own by adoption. Most of the statues are erected at the expense of the respective localities; the good people thinking it a duty to render every respect to their illustrious dead. And when they happen to be too poor to incur much cost, they erect a fountain, or some other useful work, which bears the great man's name. In the small and poor village of Chatenay, near Paris, where Voltaire was born, you see, for example, a small plaster bust of him, in an iron cage, and on the parish pump the words "a Voltaire." And, as the _Literary Gazette_ has it, very justly, "the man who should scoff at this simple tribute to genius would be an ass,--it is all that poor peasants can afford to pay." The names of distinguished men are also frequently given by the French to streets and squares. In Paris alone, Moliere, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, Boileau, Montaigne, and I know not how many others, together with men of science by the hundred, have streets named after them: so have Chateaubriand and Beranger; so have even the English Lord Byron and the Italian Rossini. The ships in the navy, too, receive also the names of distinguished men, foreign as well as native--there is a man-of-war named after Newton, and several public works have the name of our own Franklin. But in the United States, although we have sometimes named after soldiers and statesmen, we have scarce any monuments, and no statues at all, except a few of men distinguished in affairs. In Union Square, opposite the house in which he lived, there should be a statue of the great Chancellor Kent; in Richmond, one of Marshall, next to Washington, the greatest of Virginians; in Northampton, one to Jonathan Edwards; in New Haven, one to Timothy Dwight; before the Academy of Sciences in Philadelphia, one to Franklin, one to Rittenhouse, and one to Alex. Wilson; at Cambridge, one to Allston; in Boston, one to Bowditch; and in New-York, memorials of some sort to Audubon, Gallatin, Hamilton, &c.

In the new park which is to be reserved in the upper part of the city, we have an opportunity to commemorate the patriotism and misfortunes of the first magistrate chosen by the people of New-York, the first under whom municipal elections were held here, and the first martyr to Liberty in the New World--Governor Leisler. LEISLER PARK sounds well, and it has additional fitness from the fact, that the unfortunate governor was once proprietor of a part of the grounds to be so appropriated. If it shall not be called Leisler Park, there is another illustrious New-Yorker, whose name appears to have been forgotten by those who have given names to public places here,--Governor Colden, who wrote the _History of the Five Nations_.

* * * * *

When the Emperor of Russia was at Rome, four or five years ago, he engaged Barberi, the worker in mosaic, to undertake certain large works, and with the instruction of six Russian students with a view to the establishment of a great school of mosaic art in St. Petersburgh. Since that time Barberi and his pupils have been occupied with works for the imperial residence, the last of which, just completed, consists of an octagonal mosaic pavement, from the ancient design of the round hall in the Vatican Museum, with twenty-eight figures, a colossal head of Medusa in the centre, and a variety of ornaments, all inclosed in a brilliant wreath of fruits, flowers, and foliage. The series already executed consist of four scenic masques, each of which is valued at L5200 sterling. With these finished works Cavaliere Barberi is about to forward to St. Petersburgh a number of vitreous mosaic tablets of every shade and style of drawing and decoration, as models for younger students.

* * * * *

TENERANI, the most eminent of contemporary Italian sculptors, has finished a statue of Bolivar. The figure is standing, full draped, and holding a laurel crown in the left hand. The pediment is ornamented with three bas-reliefs, the three provinces, Peru, Bolivia, and Colombia. Two statues, Justice and Liberality, symbols of the hero's virtues, stand at the side of the monument, which will be erected in the cathedral of Caraccas. It is a fine instance of the beauty and delicate grace of Tenerani's treatment. The expressive head of "The Liberator," with the high, arched brow, the large, soft, and sagacious eyes, the sharply chiselled but agreeable features, beaming with intellectual radiance, are happily conceived and exquisitely executed.

In the same kind we note an equestrian statue of Bernadotte by TOGELBERG, a Swede resident in Rome. The horseman's mantle has fallen aside, the staff of a commander is in his hand, and the able marshal, "king that shall be," looks graciously down from his horse. In his face there is the imperial force of military genius, with the genial grace of sensibility. The horse is finely done.

* * * * *

STEINHAUSER'S statue of Hahnemann, the father of homoeopathy, destined for Leipsic, is almost finished. The same artist has in hand the Goethe monument, designed by Bettina von Arnim. The sketch serves as the illuminated title-page to the second volume of the correspondence with a child. She describes it as follows: "Goethe sits upon a throne, within a semi-niche, his head reaches over the niche, which is not closed above, but is cut away, and seems, half seen, like the moon rising over the rim of a mountain. The mantle, tied round the neck, falls back over the shoulders, and is brought forward again under the arms into the lap. The left hand rests upon the lyre, supported upon the left knee. The right hand, which holds my flowers, is sunk negligently in the same way, and, forgetting fame, he holds the laurel wreath, and looks toward heaven. The young Psyche stands before him, as then I stood, raises herself upon tip-toe to touch the strings of the lyre, which he permits, lost in inspiration."

The artist has appreciated this conception. He has represented Goethe not as an old man, but as a man of ideal expression, holding indeed the well-won laurel, but with the harp in hand, as if inspiration were exhaustless.

* * * * *

HERR KISS'S group in bronze of an Amazon encountering a lion has been purchased by the Prince of Prussia as a present for the Queen of England. A copy of the same work in zinc has been purchased by a gentleman from the United States for L2500. It is said that Kiss has received a commission for two other copies for persons in the United States.

* * * * *

The English critics complain that they have not any longer a great portrait painter. This branch of art is declining, and the walls of the Academy this year bear testimony to the fact. From the death of Lawrence to the present time, now more than twenty years, it has been gradually subsiding into the mere record of literal fact--ignoring those great principles which made it once a means of historical record. In America we have occasion for no such regrets. Elliot is equal to any man in the world for a masculine and noble head, and Hicks and several others would in any country or in any time command the applause due to great masters.

* * * * *

For three years Mr. PYNE, the landscape painter, has been taking a series of views in the lake counties of England. The pictures comprise all the important objects in a tour through the country they illustrate, treated under a variety of aspects, which renders the collection valuable in an artistic point of view. A feeling for atmospheric distance is one of Mr. Pyne's most important attributes, and in representing wide reaching views of mountains and lakes he has had full scope for his talent. The pictures are to be copied in a series of colored lithographs, and published in a volume.

* * * * *

Among the pictures in the Royal Academy this season are several by British army officers on foreign duty. By the Hon. Lieutenant Colonel Percy there are, _A Study of Niagara from the under Horse-Shoe Fall, The River St. Lawrence and Mouth of the Saguenay_, and a view on the same river _Near the Chaudiere Bridge, Quebec_.

* * * * *

RAUCH, the sculptor, whose statue of Frederic the Great has just been erected in Berlin, has been the object of an artistic ovation. The Academy of Sciences gave a banquet in his honor, the king, royal family, and ministers assisted, and Meyerbeer composed a _Cantata_ for the occasion.

* * * * *

Mr. HEALY'S picture of Mr. Webster replying to Colonel Hayne is completed, in Paris, and will be brought to New-York in the present month (of August). It is twenty-eight feet long. The painter has published proposals for engravings of it, at twenty dollars per copy.

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An original painting by Raphael, _The Boar Hunt_, was destroyed in a recent fire at Downhill House, the family seat of Sir Hervey Bruce, in England.

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The French and English journals mention several important improvements of the daguerreotype, some of which are of the same character as Mr. Hill's. Mr. Brady, of this city, has gone to London, to establish a branch of his house in that city.

_Historical Review of the Month._

THE UNITED STATES.

On the 4th of July the corner stone of the Capitol extension at Washington was laid, before the President of the United States, the Cabinet, army and navy officers, and a very large assemblage of citizens. Mr. Webster delivered on the occasion an address, in which he pointed out with his customary eloquent clearness the extraordinary advances of the country since General Washington, fifty-eight years before, had performed there a similar duty, and for the advantage of condensation and exactness he presented many important facts in the form of a comparative table, as follows:

1793. 1851. Number of States 15 31 Representatives and Senators in Congress 135 295 Population of the U. States, 1850 3,929,328 23,267,498 Do. Boston, do. 18,038 136,871 Do. Baltimore, do. 13,503 169,054 Do. Philadelphia, do. 42,520 409,045 Do. New-York (city), do. 33,121 515,507 Do. Washington, do. ---- 40,075 Amount of receipts into Treasury, do. $5,720,624 $43,774,848 Am't of expenditures of U.S., do. 7,529,575 39,355,268 Amount of imports, do. 31,000,000 178,138,318 Do. Exports, do. 26,109,000 151,898,720 Do. Tonnage, do. 525,764 3,535,454 Area of the United States, do. 805,461 3,314,365 Rank and file of the army 5,110 10,000 Militia (enrolled), ---- 2,006,456 Navy of the United States (vessels), None 76 Do. Armament (ordinance), -- 2,012 Number of treaties and conventions with foreign powers 9 90 Number of lighthouses and light-boats 7 372 Expenditures for do. $12,061 529,265 Area of the first capitol building in square feet ---- 14,641 Do. present capitol (including extension) ---- 4-1/3 acres Lines of railroads in miles ---- 8,500 Do. Telegraphs ---- 15,000 Number of post-offices 209 21,551 Number of miles of post route 5,642 178,671 Amount of revenue from post-offices $104,747 $5,552,971 Amount of expenditures in the Post-Office Department 72,040 5,212,953 Number of miles of mail transportation ---- 46,541,423 Miles of railroad ---- 8,500 Public libraries 35 694 Number of volumes in do. 75,000 2,201,632 School libraries ---- 10,000 Number of volumes in do. ---- $2,000,000

The recent anniversary--being three quarters of a century from the Declaration of Independence--was celebrated with unusual enthusiasm in nearly all parts of the United States. One small party of secessionists in a southern state chose the occasion for some farcical expressions of treason, and members of another party, equally insane or wicked, in the north, chose to violate the sacredness of the time by avowing a disregard of the Constitution; but on the whole the displays of feeling were such as to gratify a patriotic and hopeful spirit. The new constitution of Maryland went into effect on that day, and in obedience to one of its provisions all the persons confined in its several prisons for debt were then released.

The correspondence between the British Minister and the Secretary of State respecting the long-pending difficulties in Central America is not yet concluded. It appears that Great Britain is ready to relinquish her peculiar relations with the so-called Mosquito Kingdom, and surrender her control over San Juan; but she refuses to make that surrender to Nicaragua, which claims an unconditional right in the case, and refuses to submit to any restrictions. There are other territorial difficulties between Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and the other states, which seem difficult of adjustment. On these subjects Sir Henry Bulwer has addressed to the American Government a communication urging its interference to produce an amicable settlement. Mr. Webster has left Washington for a temporary residence in the country, and it is probable that this correspondence will not be concluded until his return, and the return of the British Minister from a contemplated visit to London.

It is supposed that an extensive fraud has been committed against the United States Government in the settlement of Mexican claims. The person accused, a Dr. Gardner, received a large sum from the Mexican Commission, but as is now stated, by fraudulent evidence. He is absent in Europe, but the grand jury of Washington has found a bill against him, and his brother and another party implicated in the transaction have been held to bail for perjury.

The Tehuantepec Surveying Expedition has returned to New Orleans. Surveys, which show the practicability of the railroad route, are complete. A few parties have been left on the ground to survey a line for the construction of a carriage road. The Coatzacoatlcos River is reported navigable, for twenty-five miles above its mouth, for ships drawing eleven feet of water. The climate is believed to be healthy. The Mexican government having evinced some unfriendliness to the Tehuantepec project, the interference of the United States has been solicited, but declined. The balance of the fourth installment of the Mexican Indemnity, under the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, was paid at the U.S. Treasury on the 28th of June--amounting to $1,815,400. The whole amount of the installment is $3,360,000. The Court Martial convened at Washington on the 23d June, for the trial of General Talcott, chief of the ordnance department, has closed its labors by the conviction of the accused of all the charges preferred against him, and his dismissal from the service. The charges were: a violation of the 132d article of the regulations for the government of the Ordnance Department; wilful disobedience of orders and instructions from the Secretary of War in relation to a contract for supplies; and conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman, among other things, in making a declaration which was positively and wilfully false, and intended to deceive the Secretary of War.

Preparations for the next presidential canvass are being commenced in many of the States. General Scott has received the nomination of two state conventions--that of Ohio, and that of Pennsylvania--besides having been nominated at public meetings in Delaware, Indiana, and other places. Mr. Woodbury has been nominated in New Hampshire, and meetings of various degrees of importance have expressed preferences for other candidates in various parts of the country. The crops of all sorts are represented as being in a very prosperous condition throughout all sections: of wheat and potatoes more abundant than ever before, and of cotton and rice very much better than the drought in the early part of the season promised. The Extra Session of the New-York legislature adjourned on the 11th of July, after passing several important bills. That for the enlargement of the Erie Canal is a measure of great moment to the industry and commerce of the state. It provides for the complete enlargement of the Erie Canal within four years, thus securing the immense business which would else seek other avenues to the seaboard, and endowing the state with a large revenue independent of taxes. Chief Justice Bronson, whose political relations give to his opinions in this case a peculiar value, has published an elaborate vindication of the bill's constitutionality. The legislature of New Hampshire adjourned on the 5th of July. The legislature of Connecticut has also adjourned, having elected no Senator in the place of Mr. Baldwin. Resolutions approving of the Compromise Measures, _including the Fugitive Slave Law_, passed the House by a vote of 113 to 35, but in the Senate they were indefinitely postponed. The Virginia Reform Convention struck out the section of the Constitution prohibiting the legislature from passing a law to allow the emancipation of slaves, and inserted a provision that an emancipated slave remaining in the state over twelve months shall be sold. The legislature is allowed to impose restrictions on the owners of slaves who are disposed to emancipate, but the section giving the legislature power to remove free negroes from the state is stricken out. The murderers of the Cosden family, in Kent Co., Maryland, are sentenced to be hung on the first Friday of the present month.

From California we have intelligence to the 15th of June. San Francisco and Stockton seem to have almost entirely recovered from the effects of the late conflagrations; the burnt districts were being restored with a rapidity surpassing all previous examples of Californian energy, and business, far from being prostrated, had resumed its former activity. The accounts from the mines continued to be encouraging, the yield of gold not having been diminished by the unusual dryness of the winter. The Indian Commissioners have met with great success in their work of pacification, although there were rumors of skirmishes in the northern part of the state. A man named Jennings was lately seized at San Francisco while attempting to escape with a bag of stolen money, and was, after being arrested and tried by a self-constituted Vigilance Committee, condemned, brought out into the plaza, and publicly hung in the presence of a large crowd. A crime so monstrous may well startle the world. If the persons composing the Vigilance Committee have respectable positions in society, this fact but increases the infamy of the transaction, and gives it a more fatal influence. Every member of the committee, consenting to its action, should be deemed guilty of murder, and punished as a murderer, though the magistracy of California should have to invoke for its support in enforcing the laws the whole force of the nation. There is no safety, nor true liberty, where there is not obedience; and it had been better that all the thieves in California in half a century escaped punishment than that one should be punished in this manner.

In the Mormon territory of Utah ground was broken for the Great Salt Lake and Mountain Railway on the 1st of May. When this enterprise is completed, preparations will be more vigorously prosecuted for the erection of the Temple. The condition of affairs in the new settlements is represented as encouraging.

The tide of emigration continues to flow into Texas from European ports. Milam District, on the Upper Brazos, seems at present to be the favorite point for the colonists. The new town of Kent has lately been erected at Kimball's Bend, and under the auspices of Captain Sir Edward Belcher, R.N., made up of hardy English and Scotch settlers. With the payment of its debt insured by the ten millions received from the United States, Texas must become one of the most flourishing states of the Union.

MEXICO.

Recent advices from Mexico lead to apprehensions that the unquiet and unsettled state of affairs may result in open attempts at a revolution in the government, and an effort by the partisans of General Santa Anna to recall him from exile, and place him at the head of the administration. It is understood that the President has abandoned the liberal party and allied himself with the clergy. A vigorous newspaper war is waged against the priests. The Mexican congress is engaged in devising ways and means to raise the necessary revenue to carry on the government. The proposition to impose an additional tax of eight per cent on all foreign merchandise imported into the Republic, has been adopted by the Chamber of Deputies.

BRITISH AMERICA.

The subject of the clergy reserves, which for a quarter of a century has almost been constantly debated in Upper Canada, has lately been agitated with unprecedented earnestness and bitterness. The popular and English party advocate the appropriation of the funds thus accruing to purposes of general education. The Board of Trade of Toronto has passed a vote of censure upon the Council, for having memorialized the government to impose differential duties against American manufactures. The census returns for 1850 give the population of Canada at nearly 800,000. The proceeds of clergy reserve sales, during the year, were $220,428. In the Legislative Assembly, a series of resolutions has been moved for the repeal of the union between Upper and Lower Canada. Efforts are being made to construct a railroad from Halifax to Hamilton, where it is to join the Great Western road, constituting a continuous line from Halifax to Detroit.

WEST INDIES.

We have dates of Port-au-Prince to the 30th of June. The coronation of the Emperor Soulouque will take place very soon. Should no bishop arrive from Rome, the Emperor may create a native bishop. At the coronation, a general amnesty is expected for all political exiles, whose return to Hayti will be beneficial, for among them are men of wealth and intelligence. The affairs of the country have assumed a more pacific aspect. Immediately after the recent proclamation of the Emperor to the Dominicans, several agents were sent to different points on the frontier, to induce the enemy to enter on amicable relations. With a single exception, these missions were successful, and a number of Dominicans were expected in Port-au-Prince, for purposes of trade. The universal desire of the Haytian people, as well as of the government, is said to be that the dispute may be honorably settled. The Emperor, however, has not relinquished the idea of effecting a reannexation of the territory of Dominica to Hayti. The excessive issues of Treasury bonds and paper currency are proving prejudicial to the true interests of the country. The number of negroes brought to Cuba from the coast of Africa, during the past fourteen months, is 14,500. Very heavy rains have fallen in the interior and in the neighborhood of Manzanilla.

SOUTH AMERICA.

In the number of the _Christian Review_ for the July quarter is a very comprehensive, intelligible, and apparently perfectly correct survey of the condition of the South American states, to which we refer readers who would possess more minute information on the subject than can be embraced in this summary.

The condition of PERU appears favorable for the maintenance of peace and order. The laws relating to elections, municipal governments, and other topics connected with the internal affairs of the country, have been considered by Congress, in accordance with the recommendation of the President. The election of Gen. Vivanca, the unsuccessful candidate for the Presidency, as representative in Congress, has been pronounced invalid, on account of his not holding the rights of citizenship. The change of ministry was received with satisfaction in all the departments, except Arequipa, which continued in a state of disturbance. The Governor's proclamation, requiring that all arms should be surrendered to the government, was the occasion of a fresh outbreak. Arequipa was thrown into a state of siege: the streets were filled with barricades: trenches were constructed at all the avenues to the city: and every obstacle opposed to the entrance of the troops which were encamped in the vicinity. Gen. Vivanca, whose party have caused these disturbances, is in prison at Lima; but whether he is personally implicated is uncertain.

The Government of BOLIVIA has issued the plan of a new Constitution, proposing among other measures, the preservation of the Roman Catholic religion as the religion of the state, the maintenance of amicable relations with American and European states, the liberty of the press, the independence of the judicial authority, the freedom of opinion on political subjects, and the protection of foreigners in the exercise of commercial pursuits. A National Convention has been convoked for the 16th of July. The number of deputies was to be 53.

An insurrection has taken place in New-Grenada--the two southern provinces, Pasto and Tuquerres, having united in an attempt to overthrow the government, with the aid and encouragement of Ecuador. The President at once dispatched a military force to the scene of the revolt, but at the last advices it had not succeeded in its object, though two or three engagements had taken place. The government has issued proposals for a loan of $400,000 in specie, and unless this is effected soon, recourse must be had to forced contributions to defray the expenses of the war. Congress has abolished slavery, requiring only certain payments to the masters. No disturbance had arisen from the measure.

GREAT BRITAIN.

In the British Parliament important reforms in the Chancery system are still under discussion, and Lord Brougham is as ardent a reformer as he was thirty years ago. The census of Great Britain, taken on the 31st of March last, is a remarkable document. It shows that the small cluster of the British isles contains a larger population than the whole of this republic, exclusive of its slaves. The metropolis numbers upwards of two millions and a quarter, and added to its denizens during the last ten years about as many souls as New-York now reckons within its limits. But a more extraordinary and altogether different result appears in Ireland. It seems that the population of Ireland is at this moment very little more than six millions and a half. It is absolutely less than it was in 1821, and more than two millions short of the number that would have been reached in the natural order of things, but for the extraordinary occurrences of the last ten years. So startling a fact will of course become the subject of the closest inquiries.

The Anti-Papal Bill finally passed the House of Commons, by a large majority, on the 4th of July. It had previously been amended on the motion of Sir F. Thesiger, and in spite of the opposition of the ministers, so as to be much more than the Government had designed. These amendments make provisions of the bill extend to all Papal bulls and rescripts, impose a penalty of one hundred pounds upon any who obtain or publish them, and make it the right of any individual to sue for the recovery of the fine. The law is stringent, and in America would be both impolitic and unnecessary. But there is no doubt that the Lords will adopt the bill, and that it will become the law of the land. The state of the Church and its abuses have been presented in the Commons by Mr. Horsman, Sir B. Hall, and Lord Blandford, who brought up various facts, and contended that a bishop need not have better pay than a prime minister, that the funds of the establishment were enough to support an efficient clergy and leave something for national schools, and that the Church does not supply the spiritual wants of the people. Such discussions must finally result in the overthrow of the establishment. Some excitement is caused by an appeal addressed to the Italians by the authorities at Rome asking for aid to Roman Catholic missions in London, in which "this great work is most earnestly recommended to the charity of Italian believers, and to the zeal of the bishops of Italy." Archbishop Minucci, of Florence, has also called on the people of his diocese for aid in constructing an Italian church in London, where "the spiritual wants of the faithful" may be cared for, and announcing _an indulgence of one hundred days_ for those who shall contribute for this object.

An attempt has been made to prevent the adulteration of coffee with chicory. It was thought possible to do this by means of a government inspection, but the motion failed. The Exhibition is still prosperous. The gross receipts already amount to a million and a half of dollars.

The number of troops in Ireland has, in consequence of the quiet and improved condition of that country, been reduced from about 26,000 to the present strength of 18,000 men. The decrees of the Thurles synod, condemning the Queen's colleges, as institutions "dangerous to faith and morals," have been sanctioned by the Pope, without any change or qualifications. Some slight alterations have been made in the statutes of the synod, respecting matters of ecclesiastical discipline in the various dioceses; but those which refer to the colleges have been approved without any modification. The _Cork Constitution_ says, "There is a great diminution in the number of emigrants proceeding to America. Only four or five vessels are now at the quays preparing to leave. It is with difficulty the requisite number of emigrants can be made up, many preferring to go by Liverpool."

Nearly a hundred Hungarian refugees had arrived at Southampton, from Constantinople. Lord John Russell has intimated that the Government will defray the expense of their passage to New-York, and of their subsistence during the time they may remain in Southampton, waiting arrangements for this purpose. Amongst the refugees is the distinguished Hungarian Lieut. General Loisar Messaros.

Preparations for another _Peace Congress_ have been made on a large scale. In one important particular the London Congress will be distinguished above all others; and that is, in the greater breadth of representative character which it will acquire; for associated bodies who have never hitherto manifested a direct interest in the peace question are preparing to send delegates on this occasion.

The official returns of the _shipwrecks of the United Kingdom_ during the past year, show that the average is nearly two a day; and the amount, thus far, four vessels only propelled by steam, and six hundred and sixty-eight sailing vessels of every description. The difference in the number of steam and sailing vessels afloat is far from the proportion of disasters. Navigation by steam is thus demonstrated to be much the safest.

The 4th of July was celebrated in London with appropriate honors by the American residents and others. Mr. George Peabody issued cards of invitation to meet the United States Minister and Mrs. Lawrence at a fete which he was to give in the evening, and about seven or eight hundred persons were present, including the American families in London, and a large proportion of the nobility and public persons in England, by whom the idea was received with the greatest satisfaction. The Duke of Wellington, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Lord Mayor, the Duke of Valencia, the Count and Countess Pulzki, Lord Glenelg, Viscount Canning, Miss Burdett Coutts, the American Ministers to London, St. Petersburg, and Brussels, and a great number of other eminent persons attended, besides Catharine Hayes, Lablache, Gardoni, and Cruvelli, who sang during the evening, and were received with more than usual applause. The affair was one of the grandest of the season.

FRANCE.

In France the chief events of importance are connected with the project for the revision of the Constitution. After a long struggle the subject was given to a committee, at the head of which was De Tocqueville. His report, as presented to the committee on the 4th of July, had not at the last dates received when this sheet goes to press, come before the public in an authentic form; but it is understood that it treats of three principal points. In the first place, M. de Tocqueville enters boldly into the question between the republicans and monarchists. He examines with skill the pretensions of the republic to Divine right put forward in the Commission itself by General Cavaignac, and sustained by him with impassioned energy and an accent of conviction which astonished the members. M. de Tocqueville denies this pretended Divine right, and maintains that of the nation to choose the form of government that may best suit it--a right which is absolute, superior, and indisputable. Secondly, he is said to oppose, by anticipation, any species of amendment which would have the effect of confining the next Constituent Assembly within any limits, or force on it the obligation of revising the constitution for the sole end of ameliorating and consolidating them, and to maintain that the Constituent Assembly should be invested with a general and unlimited mission, in order that it may act in the plenitude of a really constituent power; and thirdly, he is described as expressing hopes that the Assembly will adopt the proposition accepted by the majority of the commission; that a constituent assembly will be chosen; that the constitution will be revised or remodelled; and in such case that all will consider it their duty to conform to it; that if the proposition of revision be not admitted, the constitution of 1848 shall remain as the supreme and sovereign law for all; that the only alternative will be to maintain, until the term of a new period of three years, the provisional form of the actual government--it being of course understood, that, in such case, each person will feel it his duty to conform to the constitution, and to abstain from every act which would be tantamount to its violation. It is added that M. de Tocqueville developes this proposition in such a manner as to oppose _all unconstitutional candidateships_; that is, of the actual President, the Prince de Joinville, and Ledru Rollin. The friends of Louis Napoleon have favored the revision, in the hope that by it they might prolong his term. Several speeches lately made by the president have given a more favorable impression than that which he made at Dijon. One at Poitiers, on the occasion of the opening of a railroad, has given satisfaction to moderate men of all parties, who believe it honest.

A bill to interdict clubs has been again adopted without any attempt at alteration. General Aupick is announced as the new ambassador to Spain. Count Colonna Walewski, an illegitimate son of the Emperor Napoleon, has reached the highest round of the diplomatic ladder by being sent as ambassador to the Court of St. James. The _Pays_ announces that the question of Abd-el-Kader's captivity is on the point of receiving a satisfactory solution. The committee charged to examine the bill for the ratification of the treaties of La Plata is disposed to propose simply the ratification of those treaties. At Charente, recently, thirty-two adult Roman Catholics of both sexes, in the presence of a numerous congregation, in the Protestant church, publicly abjured the Roman Catholic and embraced the Protestant faith.

A measure introduced by M. de St. Beuve in the National Assembly for a commercial reform, by modifying the present restrictive tariff, so as to accomplish a gradual approach to free trade, had been rejected by a majority of 428 to 199. M. Thiers on this occasion made a great speech against free trade, which is much criticised by the English press. The London _Times_ calls Thiers the evil genius of France.

The most recent commercial letters received from various parts of France represent affairs as somewhat recovering from the gloomy appearance they wore some days since. The manufacturers have received numerous orders for the great fair of Beaucaire, which will be held in July. The Bank of France has announced a dividend of fifty-five francs per share for the first half year of 1851.

ITALY.

On the evening of the 7th of May, the Count Piero Guicciardini, the descendant of the great historian, had met in a private house in Florence six persons whose names are given in a decree, and before the party broke up, Count Guicciardini read and expounded a chapter of the Gospel of St. John. At ten o'clock the house was entered by eight gendarmes; a perquisition began, in the style now customary in Tuscany; the depositions of the party assembled were taken down; and as it was fully proved by such depositions that a chapter of the Bible had been read by Count Guicciardini, the whole of the seven offenders were straightway led to the police delegation of Santa Maria Novella, where their arrest was signed by the delegate, and a little after midnight they were lodged in the Bargello, or public prison. For ten days Count Guicciardini and his companions were kept in confinement and subjected to repeated examinations, and finally the sentence of forced residence in different parts of the Tuscan Maremme was passed on each of the accused. This illustration of the liberality of the Roman Catholic Church--though in perfect keeping with its perpetual policy--has produced a profound sensation. It might have escaped without much observation but for the eminence of the parties, and the claims made lately in England, that the Roman Catholic authorities were as tolerant as they asked that others should be to them, in all matters of personal rights.

The French military commandant in Rome has been exercising his authority with great, but probably requisite severity. Two Roman soldiers have been tried by French court martial, and executed for riotous conduct, and seven others have been doomed to the same fate. The Pope also has been threatened with expulsion from the Quirinal Palace, which the above-mentioned authority thought at one time would be essential as a military post. So far, the weak-minded holder of St. Peter's keys has not suffered the mortification of a second forced retreat, although, between his military guardians of France and Austria and his own discontented subjects, his position is scarcely an enviable one. The three young Englishmen arrested at Leghorn yet remain imprisoned; but their real names do not appear.

GERMANY.

The military authorities of Austria give as much offence in Germany as the French in Rome. At Hamburg, several citizens have been killed in a fray with the Austrian soldiers, begun by the insolence of the latter. In Hesse Cassel, the Government has been compelled to grant immunities to the Roman Catholic clergy, scarcely compatible with the institutions of a Protestant country, under the compulsion of Austrian bayonets.

The Goettingen Professors have decided that the Government of Electoral Hesse was not required by the Constitution to procure the assent of the Chambers to the levy of taxes last year; this is the point on which the revolutionary manifestations turned. We have not the Constitution at hand, and cannot apprehend the grounds of this decision, but it is singular that all the magistrates and people of the country, who ought to have known something of their constitution, should have unanimously held a different opinion. The Prussian government have withdrawn the summons for the assembling of the provincial diets, no doubt on account of the universal condemnation excited by it. A decided schism has of late manifested itself in the commercial policy advocated by North and South Germany. Whilst the attempt to procure higher protective duties in the Zollverein has continually been defeated by the liberal principals supported by Prussia. South Germany, on the other hand, has come forward openly with the intention to assert an independent line of action.

SPAIN.

Accounts from Madrid of the 2d July, state that M. Jose Sanchez Ocana, director general of the public treasury, has been appointed under secretary of state of the finance department, in the place of M. Bordia, director general of the customs. M. Rudulfo, inspector of the finances at Madrid, succeeded M. Ocana in the direction of the public treasury. France, by her diplomatic agents at Madrid, strives to influence the Spanish government in regard to a more active repression of the slave trade in its colonies. Mr. Schoelcher adverted to the passage of the recent speech of the Emperor of Brazil, touching the abolition of the traffic, as meant simply to please England--"like all other speeches from thrones, in which the design is to give a sort of satisfaction to the foreign powers with whom friendly relations are desirable." The amendment was rejected by 339 nays to 230 ayes.

RUSSIA.

Letters from Posen allude to an ukase which had appeared, compelling all individuals throughout Russia and Poland to sell to the government, within a specified period, whatever uncoined silver they might have in their possession. An indemnity in paper money was authorized to be given on behalf of the treasury. A body of Belgian weavers and dyers has been engaged to go to St. Petersburg to set up their trade. In Circassia the Russian army has met with a serious defeat; in a battle where it had 25,000 men engaged, it lost 5,000.

AUSTRIA AND TURKEY.

The Emperor has appointed Count Rechburg Internuncio at the court of Constantinople. Accounts from Comorn state that violent shocks of an earthquake were felt there on the 1st. The shocks were accompanied by violent claps of thunder. The clocks in all the church towers struck; scarcely a single house remained uninjured; numerous chimneys fell in, and the furniture and utensils in the rooms were overthrown and broken. Many accidents had occurred, but providentially, not any of a fatal nature are yet known.

_Scientific Discoveries and Proceedings of Learned Societies._

The BRITISH ASSOCIATION met this year on the second of July, at Ipswich. Among those present we notice the names of Prince Albert, the Prince of Canino, the Duke of Argyle, the Earl of Rosse, the Earl of Enniskillen, the Earl of Sheffield, Lord Monteagle, Lord Londesborough, Lord Stradbroke, Lord Rendlesham, Lord Abercorn, Lord Alfred Paget, Lord Wrottesley, the Bishop of Oxford, Sir Charles Lemon, Sir Roderick Murchison, Sir Charles Lyell, Sir Henry de la Beche, Sir Edward Cust, Sir William Jardine, Sir William Middleton, Sir W. J. Hooker, Sir J. T. Boileau, Professors Airy, Asa Gray, Harvey, Sedgwick, Henslow, Owen, Sylvester, Forbes, Bell, Anstead, Phillips, and Faraday, Dr. Lyon Playfair, Dr. Hooker, and many eminent scientific men.

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At a recent meeting of the ASIATIC SOCIETY in London, a report of the Oriental Translation Committee mentioned the printing of the second volume of the _Travels of Evliva Effendi_, of the fifth volume of _Haji Khalfae Lexicon_, and of the _Makamat_ of Hariri. The Committee had received from Col. Rawlinson the offer of a translation of the valuable and rare geographical work of Yakut, which it accepted, and is about to proceed with the printing of the third and concluding volume of M. Garcin de Tassy's _Histoire de la Litterature Hindoui et Hindoustani_, including a Memoir on Hindustani Songs, with numerous translations. The Report concluded with noticing the presentation of William the Fourth's gold medal to Prof. H. H. Wilson, in acknowledgment of his services to Oriental literature generally, and especially in testimony of the merits of his translation of the _Vishnu Purana_.

The annual Report of the Council gave some notice of the progress of Babylonian and Assyrian decipherment as carried out by Colonel Rawlinson, and now in the course of communication to the world by the Society. The Babylonian version of the great Behistun inscription was exhibited on the table; and, in allusion to it, the Report contained a concise _resume_ of what had been done from the information of Colonel Rawlinson himself, who is of opinion that the inscriptions read extend over a period of 1,000 years--from B.C. 2000 to 1000; that he has ascertained the religion of the ancient Assyrians and Babylonians to have been strictly Astral or Sabaean; and as he finds among the gods the names of Belus, Ninus and Semiramis, he thinks that the dynasties given by the Greeks were, in fact, lists of mythological names. The geography of Western Asia as it was 4,000 years ago appears to be clearly made out. Col. Rawlinson finds a king of Cadytis, or Jerusalem, named Kanun, a tributary of the king who built the palace of Khursabad, warring with a Pharaoh of Egypt, and defeating his armies on the south frontier of Palestine. The Meshec and Tubal of Scripture were dwelling in North Syria, the Hittites held the centre of the province, and the commercial cities of Tyre and Sidon and Gaza and Acre flourished on the coasts. And so well does Colonel Rawlinson find the geography made out, that he is of opinion he can identify every province and city named in the inscriptions.

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The last Bulletin of the GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY of Paris, opens with an appeal to the governments of Europe and America, for the adoption of a Common First Meridian. The author, M. Sedillor, is a high authority in geographical science, and would trace an imaginary line in the midst of the Ocean; designate it by some "systematic term," acceptable to all, and bring, thus, Europe and the new world into a community of views and interests apart from all national prejudices or pretension. The appeal followed by a letter of M. Jomard on the same subject, and another from the traveller Antony D'Abbadie, who prefers Mont Blanc, or Jerusalem--"against which the Christians of America can have no objection." Among the contents of the Bulletin, is a notice of Lieut. Com. MacArthur's report, eighteenth December, 1850, to Professor Bache, which has been translated entire for the _Hydrographical Annals_, a periodical work. Mr. Squier's Observations on the Route of the Proposed Canal across the Isthmus of Nicaragua, are also translated. There is a paper of some compass, on the various projects and undertakings for a communication between the Oceans and a like one on the services rendered to geography by the French and British missionaries. Those of the German and American, who have not been less zealous, will be duly credited and recorded, when materials can be obtained for the purpose.

* * * * *

At the meeting for the 22nd May, of the ROYAL SOCIETY OF LITERATURE, in London, a very interesting Greek MS. was exhibited. It is owned by a Mr. Arden, who purchased it of an Arab near Thebes. It is nearly four yards long, divided into pages or columns containing twenty-eight lines, the length of which exceeds six inches, and the breadth two inches; the whole is written in a large and clear hand, with great accuracy, since few corrections or interpolations are visible. Although it is difficult to assign to it the actual age, still there seems to be every reason to conjecture that it is of the commencement of the present era--or indeed, which is by no means improbable, that it was written a century or two before the birth of Christ. The delicacy of the texture of the papyrus will afford a strong presumption in favor of the latter period; for it is well known to Egyptologists that a coarseness and inferiority of papyrus indicate a more recent date. The first portion of the MS. is much broken, and presents many gaps and fragments; the end of it bears the title of an Apology, or Defence of Lycophron. The second, or larger portion of the MS., is much more perfect, as it contains only here and there an hiatus, which will probably be easily restored; at its termination we are informed that it is a Defence of the accusation of Euxenippus against Polyeuctus. The author of these orations will, in all likelihood, prove to be the great Athenian orator Hyperides, whose works have been long lost. Indeed, this appears to be almost certain, since some of the Greek lexicographers mention a speech of Hyperides 'for Lycophron,' and another 'against Polyeuctus concerning the accusation.' But who Lycophron was, and what was the nature of the defence for him, remain to be more amply detailed. The subject of this second oration, however, appears to be known,--for Polyeuctus, the Athenian orator, was accused, with Demosthenes, of receiving a bribe from Harpalus. Moreover, the fragments of a papyrus MS. procured a few years ago at Egyptian Thebes by Dr. Harris, lately ably edited by Mr. Babington, at Cambridge, and proved to be parts of the oration of Hyperides against Demosthenes, are so exceedingly similar, both in handwriting and the papyrus, to the present MS. belonging to Mr. Arden, that it is not improbable but that they may have been copied by the same Greek scribe and may originally have formed one entire MS. roll of the orations of Hyperides. A careful examination and comparison of these interesting MSS. will, after a time, decide these questions.

* * * * *

At a late sitting of the _Paris Academy of Medicine_, M. ORFILA, the celebrated toxicologist, read a paper on _Nicotine_--the poison used in the Bocarme murder. It is the essential principle of tobacco. Virginia tobacco yields the largest proportion of _nicotine_; from twenty pounds, were extracted four hundred _grammes_ of the poison; a gramme is equal to 15.444 grains troy. The Maryland leaf affords about a third of that quantity. Nicotine is nearly as powerful and rapid as prussic acid with the animal economy. Five or six drops applied to the tongue of a dog, killed in ten minutes. The progress which medical jurisconsults have made recently, is so great, that poisoning by morphine, strychnine, prussic acid, and other vegetable substances, hitherto regarded as inaccessible to our means of investigation, may now be detected and recognized in the most incontestable manner. M. Ortila, in closing his notice, says: "After these results of judicial medical investigation, the public need be under no apprehension. No doubt intelligent and clever criminals, with a view to thwart the surgeons, will sometimes have recourse to very active poisons little known by the mass, and difficult of detection, but science is on the alert, and soon overcomes all difficulty; penetrating into the utmost depths of our organs, it brings out the proof of the crime, and furnishes one of the greatest pieces of evidence against the guilty."

* * * * *

In the LONDON ROYAL INSTITUTION, May 23, M. Ebelman, of the Sevres works, near Paris, being present with various specimens of the minerals which he has produced artificially,--Mr. Faraday stated the process and results generally. The process consists in employing a solvent, which shall first dissolve the mineral or its constituents; and shall further, either on its removal or on a diminution of its dissolving powers, permit the mineral to aggregate in a crystaline condition. Such solvents are boracic acid, borax, phosphate of soda, phosphoric acid, &c.:--the one chiefly employed by M. Ebelman is boracic acid. By putting together certain proportions of alumina and magnesia, with a little oxide of crome or other coloring matter, and fused boracic acid into a fit vessel, and inclosing that in another, so that the whole could be exposed to the high heat of a porcelain or other furnace, the materials became dissolved in the boracic acid; and then as the heat was continued the boracic acid evaporated, and the fixed materials were found combined and crystallized, and presenting new specimens of spinel. In this way crystals having the same form, hardness, color, specific gravity, composition, and effect on light as the true ruby, the cymophane, and other mineral bodies were prepared, and were in fact identical with them. Chromates were made, the emerald and corundum crystalized, the peridot formed, and many combinations as yet unknown to mineralogists produced.

* * * * *

At a meeting of the BERLIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, held on May 31 last, the venerable Alexander von Humboldt made an interesting communication upon some observations of singular _movements of fixed stars_. It seems that at Trieste, January 17, 1851, between 7 and 8 o'clock P.M., before the rising of the moon, when the star Sirius was not far from the horizon, it was seen to perform a remarkable series of eccentric movements. It rose and sank, moved left and right, and sometimes seemed to move in a curved line. The observers were Mr. Keune, a student in the upper class of the gymnasium, and Mr. Thugutt, a saddler, both certified to be reliable persons. The family of the latter also beheld the phenomena, Mr. Keune, with his head leaned immovably against a wall, saw Sirius rise in a right line above the roof of a neighboring house, and immediately again sink out of sight behind it, and then again appear. Its motions were so considerable that for some time the beholders thought it was a lantern suspended by a kite. It also varied in brilliancy, growing alternately brighter and fainter, and now and then being for moments quite invisible, though the sky was perfectly clear. As far as it is known, this phenomenon has been remarked but twice before, once in 1799 from the Peak of Teneriffe by Von Humboldt himself, and again nearly fifty years later, by a well-informed and careful observer, Prince Adalbert, of Prussia.

* * * * *

"In the great Exhibition," the _Athenaeum_ says, "Daguerreotypes are largely displayed by the French,--as might have been expected, that country being proud of the discovery: but the examples exhibited by the Americans surpass in general beauty of effect any which we have examined from other countries. This has been attributed to difference in the character of the solar light as modified by atmospheric conditions; we are not, however, disposed to believe that to be the case. We have certain indications that an increased intensity of light is not of any advantage, but rather the contrary, for the production of daguerreotypes; the luminous rays appearing to act as balancing powers against the chemical rays. Now, this being the case, we know of no physical cause by which the superiority can be explained,--and we are quite disposed to be sufficiently honest to admit that the mode of manipulation has more to do with the result than any atmospheric influences. However this may be, the character of the daguerreotypes executed in America is very remarkable. There are a fulness of tone and an artistic modulation of light and shadow which in England we do not obtain. The striking contrasts of white and black are shown decidedly enough in the British examples exhibited in the gallery,--but here there are coldness and hardness of outline. Within the shadow of the eagle and the striped banner we find no lights too white and no shadows too dark: they dissolve, as in Nature, one into the other in the most harmonious and truthful manner,--and the result is, more perfect pictures. The Hyalotypes or glass pictures are of a remarkable character. They are but a modification of the processes of Mr. Talbot and of M. Evrard as applied to glass; but the idea of copying Nature on this material,--and, having obtained a fixed picture of the shadowed image, of magnifying it by means of the magic lantern, and thus producing a truthful representation of the original,--is certainly due to the artist of Philadelphia. Many beautiful views of the Smithsonian Institute, of the Custom-house at Philadelphia, and of churches in several cities in the United States, show the minuteness of the detail which can be obtained by the use of the albuminized glass. Amongst the professed improvements Mr. Beard exhibits some enamelled daguerreotypes, in which the permanence of the picture is secured by a lacquer."

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In the ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY, in London, the President, regretting the undignified controversies respecting the rise and course of the Nile which had taken place, unhesitatingly expressed his conviction that no European traveller, from Bruce downwards, had yet seen the source of the true White Nile. Concerning this, we may still exclaim "_Ignotum, plus notus, Nile, per ortum._"

* * * * *

Experiments with chloroform as a propelling power, in the place of steam, are now making in the port of L'Orient; and there is reason to hope, from the success which has already attended them, that they will result in causing a considerable saving to be effected in cost and in space.

* * * * *

THE GEOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF FRANCE will hold its annual meeting this year at Dijon. The Congress will commence on the 14th of September.

_Recent Deaths._

GENERAL M. ARBUCKLE, U.S.A., died on the 11th of June, at Fort Smith. He was about 75 years of age, and had been nearly fifty years in the army, and twenty on the Arkansas frontier. At the time of his death, he was commander of the 7th Military Department of the United States Army, and had held that station for several years, and was peculiarly calculated for the office, being thoroughly acquainted with the Indians, and Indian character, he always had their confidence, and by that means, kept up and maintained friendly relations with them on behalf of the United States. The St. Louis _Republican_ remarks that, "as a man, Gen. ARBUCKLE was honest and humane, loved and respected by every person with whom he had intercourse. No one pursued a more straight-forward course in all transactions. He was strictly economical in expenditures for the Government. His whole mind was engrossed with the present expedition of the 5th Infantry to the Brazos, and on the frontier of Texas, and he gave orders and directions for conducting, it as long as he was able to converse."

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The CHEVALIER PARISOT DE GUYMONT, who belonged to the family of Lavalette, the illustrious Grand Master of the Order of Malta, of which the chevalier was one of the few surviving knights, has just died in the convent of St. Jean de Catane, in Sicily, to which the directing chapter of that celebrated order had retired. He distinguished himself in the expedition which the last grand master sent against Algiers towards the end of the eighteenth century; and General Bonaparte, when he took possession of Malta, demanded to see M. de Guymont, and received him with marked distinction. He was in the seventy-seventh year of his age.

* * * * *

SIR J. GRAHAM DALZELL, BART., died on the seventeenth of June in Edinburgh, aged seventy-seven years. He was president of the Society for promoting Useful Arts in Scotland, vice-president of the African institute of Paris, and author of several works on science and history, and of various articles in the 'Encyclopaedia Britannica.

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The widow of THOMAS SHERIDAN, died in London on the ninth of June. She was the author of _Carwell_, a very striking story illustrating the inequalities of punishment in the laws against forgery. In a later novel, _Aims and Ends_, the same feminine and truthful spirit showed itself in lighter scenes of social life, observing keenly, and satirizing kindly. Mrs. Sheridan wrote always with ease, unaffectedness, and good-breeding, her books every where giving evidence of the place she might have taken in society if she had not rather desired to refrain from mingling with it, and keep herself comparatively unknown. After her husband's early death she had devoted herself in retirement to the education of her orphan children; when she re-appeared in society it seemed to be solely for the sake of her daughters, on whose marriages she again withdrew from it; and to none of her writings did she ever attach her name. Into the private sphere where her virtues freely displayed themselves, and her patient yet energetic life was spent, it is not permitted us to enter; but we could not pass without this brief record what we know to have been a life as much marked by earnestness, energy, and self-sacrifice, as by those qualities of wit and genius which are for ever associated with the name of Sheridan. Three daughters survive her, and one son--Lady Dufferin, the Hon. Mrs. Norton, Lady Seymour, and Mr. Brinsley Sheridan, the member of Parliament for Shaftesbury.

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From Stockholm we hear of the death of Mr. ANDRE CARLSSON, Bishop of Calmar, and author of numerous and important works on philology, theology and jurisprudence. He occupied at one time the chair of Greek language and literature at the University of Lund, and was, say the Swedish papers, in his place in the Diet, a champion of religious liberty and parliamentary reform. He has died at the great age of 94.

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Poland has lost a writer of distinction, chiefly on geographical subjects, in the person of Count STANISLAUS PLATER. He had long been eminent both in society and in literature.

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GENERAL JAMES MILLER died in Temple, New-Hampshire, on the 7th of July, of paralysis, aged 76 years. He was born in Peterboro, N. H., and bred to the profession of the law. In 1810 he entered the Army, and served with distinction throughout the last war with Great Britain. He rose rapidly from the rank of captain to that of major general. He was present at Tippecanoe, under Gen. Harrison, but was prevented by sickness from taking part in the battle. He rendered eminent services in the battles of Chippeway, Bridgewater, and Lundy's Lane, making himself conspicuous by his courageous and intrepid conduct. It was at the last named battle that he is said to have uttered the renowned declaration, "I'll try, sir," when asked if he could storm an important and nearly impregnable position of the enemy. Gen. Miller was subsequently made Governor of the Territory of Arkansas. Afterwards he was collector of the port of Salem, which post he resigned in 1840. He is the "old soldier collector" referred to in the introduction to Hawthorne's _Scarlet Letter_.

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The celebrated Polish General UMINSKI died at Wiesbaden on the 16th of June. He was one of the most prominent actors in the last Polish Revolution, but for several years had lived in great retirement at Wiesbaden. He was born in the year 1780, in the Grand Duchy of Posen. As early as 1794 he commenced his military career, as a volunteer under Kosciusko. When the Poles were summoned to new efforts for freedom by Dombrowski, in 1806, Uminski was among the first to take up arms. He formed a Polish Guard of Honor for Napoleon, fought at Dantzick, received a wound at Dirschau, where he was taken prisoner and sentenced to death by a Prussian Court Martial. His sentence was not executed, however, as Napoleon threatened reprisals. In the war against Austria he commanded Dombrowski's advanced guard, was made Colonel, and formed the 10th. hussar-regiment, which signalized itself at Masaisk, in 1812, and at whose head he was the first to enter Moscow. In the retreat, he saved the life of Poniatowski. At the battle of Leipsic, where he acted as Brigadier General, he was again wounded and taken prisoner. After the dissolution of the national army of Poland, he entered into the Polish-Russian service but soon obtained his discharge, and lived in retirement in Posen, though without intermitting his efforts for the freedom of Poland. In the year 1821 he helped to found a patriotic union, was arrested after accession of Nicholas I, and in the year 1826 sentenced to six years' imprisonment in the fortress of Glogau. Escaping from this in 1831, he went to Warsaw, and took part as a common soldier in the battle of Wawre. The next day he was made General of Division. On the 25th of February he beat Diebitsch at Grodno, and distinguished himself in several other battles. Outlawed and hung in effigy at Kosen, he found an asylum in France. The remainder of his subsequent life he passed in Wiesbaden. Uminski was also known as a writer on military affairs. Those who knew him in the latter years of his exile, are loud in their praises of the sweetness, benevolence, and dignity of his character. He will be remembered for his devotion to Polish liberty, and the people, who in future times shall struggle for the same boon, will gain new encouragement from his glorious example.

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VISCOUNT MELVILLE died on the tenth of June. He was in his eightieth year, having been born in 1771. In 1809, he (then the Right Honorable Robert Dundas), was President of the Board of Trade under the Perceval administration. He succeeded his father in 1811, and, in 1812, when Lord Liverpool assumed the reins, he became first Lord of the Admiralty, which office he held during that long administration which ceased in April, 1827, by the death of the Premier. Mr. Canning having been called to power, Lord Melville retired with the majority of his former colleagues, which caused some surprise at the time, as he was favorable to the claims of the Catholics, which was understood to constitute the bond of the new administration. The Canning administration had a brief career, and that of Lord Goderich, the present Earl of Ripon, which attempted to carry on affairs after the death of Canning, was still more brief. On the Duke of Wellington becoming Prime Minister, early in 1822, Lord Melville resumed his former office, the First Lord of the Admiralty, and continued until the breaking up of the Tory Administration, and the advent of the Reform Ministry of Earl Grey, in November, 1830. He then ended his official career, but for several years attended occasionally in the House of Lords, but he chiefly resided at the family seat.

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Mr. DYCE SOMBRE died in London, July 1. His history is very generally known. He was understood to be the son of a German adventurer in India, of the name of Summer, who espoused the late Begum Oomroo. All manner of wild and scandalous stories are afloat as to the life of this woman and the death of her husband. After her death, Mr. Dyce Sombre came to Europe, and first made himself remarkable, in Italy, by the extraordinary black marble monument which he caused to be executed and sent to India in memory of his benefactress. His arrival in England, with a reputation of almost fabulous wealth, attracted much notice. He became one of the feted lions of the season, and ultimately married, in 1840, Mary Anne, daughter of the Earl St. Vincent. A separation soon took place, and the legal proceedings consequent on this ill-starred marriage, followed by those adopted for the purpose of establishing Mr. Dyce Sombre's lunacy--were long matters of public talk and universal notoriety. His attempt to enter public life was seconded by the "worthy and enlightened" electors of Sudbury, who sent him to Parliament, from whence he was speedily ejected on petition--the borough being soon afterwards disfranchised. For the last few years Mr. Sombre has resided on the Continent, to escape the effects of the decision of the Court of Chancery in his case--a decision against which he had come over to petition when he was seized with his fatal illness. In consequence of his death in a state of lunacy, his money in the funds, railway shares, and other property, of the annual value of L11,000, will become divisible between Captain Troup and General Soldoli, the husbands of his two sisters, who are next of kin. An additional sum, producing L4,000 a year, will also fall to their families on the death of Mrs. Dyce Sombre.

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BISHOP MEDANO, of Buenos Ayres, died in the second week of April. He was 83 years old.

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The EARL OF SHAFTESBURY, one of the most notable of the members of the House of Lords, died at his country residence in Dorsetshire, on the 2d of June, aged eighty-four years. Though neither an orator nor a statesman, he was one of the most remarkable personages of the age in which he lived. His position as a public servant was quite peculiar; and his character, though it could not be called eccentric, had little in common with the world around him. CROPLY ASHLEY COOPER, was the second son of the fourth Lord Shaftesbury. That Lord Shaftesbury who became Chancellor in the reign of Charles II. was the first peer in the Cooper family, and under the title of Lord Ashley was a member of the Cabinet well known by the name of "the Cabal" To him we are indebted for the Habeas Corpus Act, at least for being its chief promoter; and he is likewise entitled to the gratitude of posterity for having introduced a measure to render the Judges independent of the crown. The third Earl--grandson of the first--was the celebrated author of the _Characteristics_. The fourth was his son; the fifth and sixth Earls were his grandsons; the former of these dying without male issue in 1811, the earldom devolved on the deceased, who was born in London on the 21st of December, 1768. From Winchester, where he was contemporaneous with Sidney Smith, and Archbishop Howley, he in due course went to Christchurch, where he passed his time as most young men of rank do at college, and graduated with quite as much credit as was then usually attained by the son of an Earl; after which he made those excursions on the continent of Europe that our ancestors were accustomed to call "the grand tour;" and all these operations he brought to a close before he had completed his twenty-second year. His next step was to get into Parliament, and a seat in the House of Commons was obtained for him in the usual way by family influence, Dorchester having had the advantage of calling him its member from the thirtieth of January, 1790, for a period exceeding twenty-one years. This was pretty good experience in the more active branch of the Legislature, though the body that elected him was of that small and quiet order of constituencies that do not greatly overburden their members with the labors of representation. Mr. Cropley Ashley Cooper had, therefore, had a long apprenticeship to political life, when, by the death of his elder brother, on the fourteenth of May, 1811, he succeeded to the peerage as sixth Earl of Shaftesbury.

The Earl was nearly forty years of age when, upon the death of Fox, the Tories recovered their long possession of office, and among their good deeds may be reckoned their appointment of Lord Shaftesbury, then Mr. Cooper, to the office of Clerk of the Ordnance. To the duties of his department he applied himself with marvellous zeal, and it was always his own opinion that he there first acquired those habits of industry and method which rendered him one of the most efficient members of the Upper House. When, on the death of his elder brother, he reached the dignity of the peerage, he thought it necessary to resign the clerkship of the Ordnance, though his private fortune was scarcely sufficient for a man encumbered with an earldom and a large family. He took his seat as a peer in June, 1811, and it was not until November, 1814, that he became permanently the Chairman of Committees; the duties of which place were well done for nearly forty years by "old" Lord Shaftesbury, who was never old when business pressed. Strong common sense, knowledge of the statute law, and above all, uncompromising impartiality, made him an autocrat in his department. When once he heard a case, and deliberately pronounced judgment, submission almost invariably followed. A man of the largest experience as a Parliamentary agent has been heard to say that he remembered only one case in which the House reversed a decision of Lord Shaftesbury; and on that occasion it became necessary to prevail on the Duke of Wellington to speak in order to overcome the "old Earl." It would not be easy to cite many instances of men who have taken as active part in the business of a deliberative assembly after the age of 75; but the labors of Lord Shaftesbury were continued beyond that of fourscore. To all outward seeming he was nearly as efficient at one period of his life as at another. By the time he had reached the age of fifty,--which was about half-way through the fifteen years that Lord Liverpool's Ministry held the government,--Lord Shaftesbury's knowledge of his duties as chairman to the Lords was complete, and then he appeared to settle down in life with the air, the habits, the modes of thought and action, natural to old age. Although there are few men now alive whose experience would enable them to contrast his performance of official duties with the manner in which they were discharged by his predecessor, yet, even in the absence of any thing like _data_, there seems to be a general impression that the House of Lords never could have had a more efficient chairman. He was certainly a man of undignified presence, of indistinct and hurried speech, of hasty and brusque manner, the last person whom a superficial observer would think of placing in the chair of the greatest senate that the world has ever seen; yet it cannot be said that their lordships were ever wrong in their repeated elections of Lord Shaftesbury; for in the formal business of committees he rarely allowed them to make a mistake, while he was prompt as well as safe in devising the most convenient mode of carrying any principle into practical effect. He was no theorist; there was nothing of the speculative philosopher in the constitution of his mind; and he therefore readily gained credit for being what he really was, an excellent man of business. It is well known that the Lords, sitting in committee, are less prone to run riot than the other House; still it required no small ability to keep them always in the right path, as was the happy practice of Lord Shaftesbury. In dealing with minute distinctions and mere verbal emendations, a deliberative assembly occasionally loses its way, and members sometimes ask, "What is it we are about?" This was a question which Lord Shaftesbury usually answered with great promptitude and perspicuity, rarely failing to put the questions before their Lordships in an unmistakable form. Another valuable quality of Lord Shaftesbury as a chairman consisted in his impatience of prosy, unprofitable talk, of which, doubtless, there is comparatively little in the Upper House; but even that little he labored to make less by occasionally reviving attention to the exact points at issue, and sometimes, by an excusable manoeuvre, shutting out opportunity for useless discussion. When he sat on the woolsack as speaker, in the absence of the Lord Chancellor, he deported himself after the manner of Chancellors; but when he got into his proper element at the table of the house, nothing could be more rapid than his evolutions; no hesitation, no dubiety, nor would he allow any one else to pause or doubt. Often has he been heard to say, in no very gentle tones, "Give me in that clause _now_;"--"That's enough;"--"It will do very well as it is;"--"If you have anything further to propose, move at once;"--"Get through the bill now, and bring up that on the third reading." He always made their Lordships feel that, come what might, it was their duty to "get through the bill;" and so expeditious was the old Earl, that he would get out of the chair, bring up his report, and move the House into another committee in the short time that sufficed for the Chancellor to transfer himself from the woolsack to the Treasury bench and back again.

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Mr. THOMAS WRIGHT HILL, eminent in England for some of the most important improvements that have been made in the means of education during this century, died on the 9th of June, at the age of eighty-eight. Hazelwood School, near Birmingham, established by Mr. Hill, was the most successful, as it was the first large experiment as to the practicability of governing boys by other principles than that of terror, of extending the range of scholastic acquirements beyond a superficial knowledge of the learned languages, and of making the acquisition of sound knowledge not only a duty but a delight. The views of Mr. Hill were set forth in _Plans for the Government and Liberal Instruction of Boys in large numbers, drawn from Experience_, first published in 1823; and a very elaborate paper in the _Edinburgh Review_ of Jan. 1825, brought the system into general notice.

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The _London Builder_ contains a brief notice of MELCHIOR BOISSEREE, brother to Sulpize Boisseree, whose death is much regretted throughout Germany. It was so far back as the year 1804, that three young men, citizens of Cologne, conceived the idea of collecting and resuscitating the mediaeval art-relics of the Rhine-lands. But what was, probably, but contemplated as a provincial undertaking, soon attracted the eyes of Europe, and became a great fact of modern art-history. When, about 1808, Sulpize Boisseree determined to devote himself entirely to the work on the Cologne Cathedral, Melchior and his brother Bertram continued the research and collection of ancient paintings. But already in 1810, the old pictures had outgrown the scanty spaces appropriable to them at Cologne. They were transferred first to Heidelberg, and in 1819 the three brothers migrated with them to Stuttgardt, where the king afforded room to this unique gathering of mediaeval art. It was Melchior who chiefly attended to the restoration of the pictures, and enriched the collection during his travels in the Netherlands, in 1812 and 1813. Having found some of the pictures of Hemling and Memling, it was he who first attracted notice to these excellent, hitherto hardly known artists. In 1827 the collection was sold to Ludwig of Bavaria, and as the Pinakotheka (where they were to be placed) was not ready, the pictures were conveyed to Schleissheim. In this retirement, Melchior Boisseree devoted his whole attention to the art of glass painting, which at that time was nigh considered as lost. If now such great things are accomplished at Munich in this department of Art, it was Melchior (conjointly with his brother Bertram) who paved the way by this collection of old specimens, seen with astonishment by travellers from the whole of Europe. When Bertram had died (about 1830), Melchior joined his brother Sulpize at Bonn, where Melchior, in the prosecution of his favored Art-studies, concluded his life in serene quiet and contentment.

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In the death of CHRISTIAN TIECK, German sculpture has lost one of its most illustrious ornaments, a man of rare intelligence, of long experience, and of profound artistic cultivation. He was born in Berlin, on the 14th of August, 1776, and early destined for a sculptor. The poetic genius and rare qualities of his brother Lewis Tieck, the poet, his elder by three years, and the graceful artistic and literary accomplishments of a sister, afterward the Baroness Knooring, inspired the young sculptor with the warmest interest in the then young and hopeful German literature and art. This taste he never lost. Perhaps no artist, so distinguished as an artist, was ever so devoted to various study, to the last moment of his life.

In 1797, he went to Paris as Royal Pensioner, and although a sculptor, entered David's studio, and in the year 1800 took the prize for sculpture. In 1801 he returned to Berlin, and his distinguished talent was acknowledged. Goethe immediately summoned him to Weimar, and employed him in the adorning of the Ducal palace, and in the moulding of a series of busts. Of this latter an idealized head of Goethe and of the philologist Frederic August Wolf, are the best. The young Tieck continued in the closest correspondence with his brother, who was then pursuing his poetical studies at Jena and Dresden, and they went with Rumohr to Italy, in the year 1805, and there by his beautiful busts, won the friendship of William Von Humboldt, a man of the most delicate and accurate artistic taste, as well as of the noblest character and intellectual ability. Madame de Stael invited Tieck to execute sculptures at Coppet, for the Neckar family, and in 1809 the Prince Royal of Bavaria, Louis, selected Tieck to mould the busts for the projected Walhalla. He did them, and in 1812 passed into Switzerland. He lived in Zurich, where Rauch was then engaged upon his noble work, the reclining statue of Queen Louisa, now at Charlottenburg, and a warm friendship was formed between the sculptors. In 1819 he returned to Berlin, was elected into the Senate of the Academy, and appointed Professor by the Grand Duke of Weimar. He then quietly devoted himself to his art, and Berlin is beautiful with Tieck's sculptures. Named, in 1830 director of the Gallery of Sculpture, he did not relax his artistic activity, and after a long illness he died gently in the spring of his year, in the seventy-fifth year of his age.

His elder brother Lewis, the most deservedly famous of the living illustrations of German literature, the only worthy translator of Shakspeare, the most genial friend, the most single-hearted of poets, whom the King honors and who loved Novalis--now seventy-eight years old, awaits in continued and patiently endured illness the gentle guiding of death to his best friend and brother.

_Ladies' Summer Fashions._

The strong and superb stuffs of winter are quite superseded by ball dresses, at the various watering places. The _elegantes_ seek _toilettes_ which, without being rich, are remarkable for lightness and tasteful patterns. We commend a white mousseline dress, with three flounces, simply hemmed; a long sash of ribbon of colored taffeta; natural flowers in the hair and on the front of the dress; a dress of colored taffeta, white or straw ground, or blue or pink ground; these stuffs are striped, or running and small patterns, or great branches with detached bouquets. Bareges are also much worn, with white ground sprinkled with little rose-buds; silk barege, with wreaths of flowers, are newer. The shape of the bodies of evening dresses has not undergone much change. _Berthes_ are still worn, forming a point in front, only varying in the disposition of the ornaments, interspersed with small ribbons or lace and mousseline. Natural flowers will be worn for headdresses and bouquets. Walking dresses are much in vogue of bareges and mousseline, the body skirted, open in front, and lower down than in winter. We must mention a new dress, named _Albanaise_, made of barege. It is of several shades, but the most _recherche_ are _gris poussiere_, or dust gray. Five dull silk stripes begin from the bottom of the dress; then an intervening space and four other stripes; another space and, to finish, three more stripes ending right in the belt, always diminishing in size. We have also seen a jaconet dress, embroidered _a l'Anglaise_ as an apron to the waist; the body embroidered at the edge flat, as well as in the skirts and sleeves; and three knots of blue taffeta fastened the bodice. For the country, dresses of Chinese nankeen and Persian jaconet are worn; and to protect from the sun, a kind of hood, of similar stuff. There are a great many black lace _schales_, embroidered muslins, printed barege, square or long, with cashmere patterns.

The scarf _mantelet_ is also much in fashion, and the article which permits of the most frequent change; a point scarcely perceptible in the middle of the back makes it still more graceful. It is made in all shades, but the most _comme-il-faut_ are black; it is more suitable, and sets off the freshness of the dress. It is trimmed with lace, fringe, or net, covered with small velvet dots. We have seen some quite covered with common embroidery; others embroidered with arabesques intermingled with braid and silk, and black jet.

For the seaside there are also worn many _mantelets_, which remind us of the winter by their shape; but the materials are somewhat lighter, chiefly of thin summer cloth, or felt of gray shades.

The _Promenade Dress_, on the preceding page, is of a rich plain chocolate-colored silk, made perfectly simple. Pardessus of a damson-colored brocaded silk, the lower part of which, as well as the large sleeves, being decorated with a magnificent double fringe, the under and deepest being of black, and the upper composed of long silk tassels, put at equal distances. Leghorn bonnet, trimmed with pink silk, cut the width of a broad ribbon, and pinked at the edge; the interior having a fulling of the pink silk encircling the face, with brides to match.

Coarse straw _chapeaux_, though principally intended for the country, are employed, though not much, for morning _neglige_, in town, and will be very much in request for the watering-places; they are of the _capote_ form, in open-work, and lined with taffeta, of one of the colors of the ribbon that trims them. The ribbon is always plaided, and the most fashionable has a great variety of colors; the knots are large, and formed of several _coques_, divided in the middle by a torsade of ribbons; some are decorated with ribbons only, but small flowers and foliage may be employed to trim the interior of the brim. Fancy _chapeaux_ are composed of bands of _paille dentelle_, alternating with rose-colored taffeta _biais_, &c. Rice straw is also employed a good deal for fancy _chapeaux_ that are formed of more than one material.

The following figures are copied from Parisian fashion plates for 1811. The shortness of the frocks should certainly satisfy the most extreme innovators of the present time.