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NICODEMUS NEY.

There is

without first doubling Cape Look-out? Is he at- to beg or steal; and the tears will come. -so the tacked? He goes whining to "Dives ;" and I would happiness and plenty in the world, but none for Meta! like to see any dog bark when a rich man tells him to hold his tongue.

MR. NICODEMUS NEY is a philanthropist,world says (and I, as in duty bound, have a great respect for the opinion of the world); that is, he goes about collecting ninepences and half-dollars, from poor, overtasked servant-girls, and half-fed clerks, for the founding of "charitable institutions" for all sorts of

And so Nicodemus grows fatter and sleeker every year, keeping wrinkles and rumors at bay. The poor draw a long, hopeless sigh as he passes them, and the

Not so fast, little one! Warm hearts beat sometimes under silk and velvet. The lady has caught sight of your little woe-begone face, and shivering form. O, what if it were her child! And, obeying a sweet maternal impulse, she passes out of the door,

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distressed persons, who never knew what an unfortu- uninitiated touch their hats respectfully, and say, "It nate situation they were in until he told them. is Nicodemus Ney, the great philanthropist !"-Fern Leaves.

How much of the money thus obtained is paid out for the purpose specified is "nothing to nobody!" He often takes long journeys to Niagara, and other places of fashionable resort; but it would be very malicious "to put that and that together." Some of the donors, too, are occasionally impertinent enough to inquire, point blank, what has become of their funds. As if a man who belongs to the church, wears such a white and stiff cravat, makes such long prayers, and has such a narrow creed, could be anything but the quintessence of honesty! It is astonishing how suspicious and impertinent some people are! Besides, don't Nicodemus dine once a week with the Hon. Dives Doncaster? And is he not always on the platform on all public occasions, as solemn as an owl, alongside of the other great guns? You can see, with half an eye, that suspicion of him is perfectly ridiculous.

Should Mr. Nicodemus Ney sit toasting his feet at the fire, after a surfeiting dinner, and should a poor, down-trodden creature come in for relief, you could not expect him to disturb his digestion by attending

to such a petty case of distress. He is a great man, and only does things on a large scale-on a scale that will tell! Besides, it is his forte to draw money out of people's pockets, not to put it in.

Very circumspect is Nicodemus. It would puzzle you to keep track of any of his personal or domestic expenditures: his bargains are strictly "private," and he was never known to answer the simplest question

THE LITTLE PAUPER.

It is only a little pauper. Never mind her. You see she knows her place, and keeps close to the wall, as if she expected an oath or a blow. The cold winds are making merry with those thin rags. You see nothing of childhood's rounded symmetry in those shrunken limbs and pinched features. Push her one side, she's used to it, she won't complain; she, can't remember that she ever heard a kind word in her life. She'd think you were mocking if you tried it.

She passes into the warm kitcnen, savory with odorous dainties, and is ordered out with a threat by the portly cook. In the shop windows she sees nice fresh loaves of bread, and tempting little cakes. Rosy little children pass her on their way to school, wellfed, well-clad, and joyous, with a mother's parting kiss yet warm on their sweet lips.

THE LITTLE PAUPER.

takes those little, benumbed fingers in her daintily gloved hands, and leads the child,-wandering, shy, and bewildered-into fairy land.

A delightful and novel sensation of warmtn creeps over those frozen limbs; a faint color tinges the pale cheeks, and the eyes grow liquid and lovely, as Meta raises them thankfully to her benefactress. The lady's little girl looks on with an innocent joy, and learns, for the first time, how "blessed are the merciful."

And then Meta passes out, with a heavy basket, and a light heart. Surely the street has grown wider, and the sky brighter! This can scarcely be the same world! Meta's form is erect now, her step light, as a child's should be. The sunshine of human love has brightened her pathway! Ah, Meta!-earth is not all darkness-bright angels yet walk the earth. Sweetvoiced Pity, and heaven-eyed Charity sometimes stoop to bless. God's image is only marred, not destroyed. He who feeds the ravens, bends to listen. Look upward, little Meta!-Fern Leaves.

A Mr. Forsyth has published in England, a stateThere seems to be happiness enough in the world, ment wherein he announces the important discovery, but it never comes to her. Her little basket is quite that common holly produces a very good ordinary empty; and now, faint with hunger, she leans wearily against the show window. There is a lovely lady, who quality of tea. Mr. Forsyth was induced to underhas just passed in. She is buying cakes and bon-bons take the investigation by a belief that the tea of Parafor her little girl, as if she had the purse of Fortunatus. How nice it must be to be warm, and have guay is a species of holly. The time may come wher enough to eat! Poor Meta! She has tasted nothing at every man's door there will bloom a ready harvest of since she was sent forth with a curse in the morning, tea.

LIVES OF THE

QUEENS OF ENGLAND.

BY J. F. SMITH, ESQ

Author of "Stanfield Hall," "Minnie Grey," &c.

OF EDWARD IV.
Continued from page 61.

consideration by their half-military, half-priestly mas

ters.

that it would be unwise to fix upon the place too
readily; "provided it be soon; for the keen air and
wholesome exercise have given me an appetite that
will do honor to the cheer. "Stay," he added, as if
struck by a sudden recollection. What tower was
that we passed-by the mound where we started the
last hart!"
"The Abbot's Tower, your grace."

"At the Abbot's Tower be it then!" exclaimed the king. Faith, we are somewhat wearied with our

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The archbishop was too much elated with the half promise of his royal captive-to accept the alliance which he trusted would convey the crown of England to his nephew and grandson-to refuse him the perELIZABETH WOODVILLE, QUEEN CONSORT mission he demanded, of indulging in his favorite amusement; still it was not without a certain misgiving that he saw him depart. As Edward had foreseen, under pretence of doing him honor, not only had "At least your grace can lead the traitorous priest all the prelate's piquers, trackers, and huntsmen, been ride! Captivity has not added suppleness to our to suppose that such is your intention." ordered out, but a body of three hundred men, retain- limbs !" "Wherefore?" ers of the house of Neville, under the command of an "Captivity!" repeated the knight, in a deprecating experienced knight, were ordered to attend him-os-tone; "the word is harsh!" tensibly to beat for game, in reality to guard him, and "Harsher than the reality?" demanded the king. cut off all hope of escape. When the king saw the Your grace is the guest of my kinsmen; not their array, he cast a despairing look at Gould, but his ad-prisoner."" viser replied only by a confident smile.

"To throw him off his guard. Like most of the Nevilles, his vanity more than rivals his ambition. In the triumph of having vanquished your resistance, he will not refuse you the permission you have so oft requested, of hunting in the chase."

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Perhaps not," replied the king, musingly; "and yet I do not see the advantage. Under pretence of doing me honor, the wily priest will cause me to be so attended that escape will be impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," observed Gould, firmly, "to those who possess courage and perseverance. As for the guards the traitors may place around you, the more the better for your purpose, since it will blind suspicion. Only obtain the desired permission, and in four-and-twenty hours your grace shall be in Lon

don."

Edward fixed his eyes upon the speaker, as if to read his inmost thoughts. The advice might be true, or merely a scheme to lead him yet more blindly to his ruin. Gould met his glance without flinching,

for he had nothing to conceal.

66

Thank heaven," he said, with a sigh, “I was not born a prince!"

"Why so, knave?" "Because I would not lose all confidence in my fellow-creatures. I question even if the possession of a crown can repay the dreary void which doubt and mistrust create in the heart. It would not, I am sure, with me."

"What are your plans?" demanded the royal captive, with something like returning confidence. "Your grace must remain in ignorance of them till

the moment of execution arrives."

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Because I cannot trust you."

"Not trust me!" repeated Edward, with surprise. No, prince. Every eye will be fixed upon you. Perhaps, at the critical moment, a look, a glance, a word might betray you: it is so easy to read in some men's countenance the workings of their minds. After all," added the speaker, "it binds you to nothing. When the earl arrives, you can easily exact some condition which you are certain beforehand he will not grant. Should my scheme even fail, you gain a few hours' relaxation and exercise; one hour in the green

The archbishop accompanied his prisoner to the outer gate of the manor, to see him take horse. He noticed Edward's blank look, as his eye glanced on the numerous cortége, and secretly applauded himself for his precaution.

According to the custom of the age, he held the stirrup of his sovereign to mount; and, after wishing him a royal hunt and a gallant chase, renewed, in a whisper, his instructions to his kinsman, Hugh Neville, to keep an eye upon him.

"Fear not, my lord," replied the knight, as he put spurs to his horse, to ride after the captive king; "unless that old sorceress, his mother-in-law, carries him off on a fiery dragon, I'll answer for his safety with my head-dead or alive he returns to the More

to-night!"

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"True," replied Edward, bitterly, "and they are so careful of their guest, that they keep watch and ward on him? The courtesy, methinks, is somewhat overstrained; but we shall not forget it!"

The look which accompanied the words once more excited the suspicions of Hugh Neville, which the previous joyous manner of the speaker had dissipated; and he determined to have an eye upon him. Under pretence of seeing everything prepared for his reception, he rode forward to examine the Abbot's Tower; it was barely possible, he thought, that friends of the captive prince might be concealed in it.

The Abbot's Tower was a heavy, square, Saxon, pile, which stood on a rising mound in the centre of the archbishop's domain; it had probably belonged originally to some monastery or religious establishment, which had been swept away by the Norman conquerhalf England into a hunting-ground, and punished the ors, who, in their passionate love for the chase, turned peasant who took the life of a deer more severely than the homicide or the robber. The latter, who congre"He has a churchman's memory for that?" muttered gated in numerous bands, were seldom brought to jushis kinsman, as he joined the train, which was fast dis-tice; since, for the most part, they were under the proappearing in the winding avenue which led from the tection of some powerful noble, who either shared in More to the chase. the contributions which they levied upon unfortunate travellers, or employed them in their own private wars,

the former than not at all; his escape would be the
Good!" said the prelate; "and remember, better
ruin of our house; he is a true Plantagenet, and never
forgives an enemy or forgets a wrong!

199

the amusement from which he had been so long de-as the price of their protection.
Rejoiced at finding himself once more occupied in
barred, Edward forgot for awhile that he was a captive.
In his excitement, he hallooed to the piquers, cheered
on the hounds, and displayed all the extravagant joy
of a schoolboy released from his irksome tasks. Hugh
Neville was completely deceived: the enjoyment of the
king was too natural to be assumed. By the hour of
noon, three of the antlered inonarchs of the forest had
breathed their last.

Gould, who was one of the foremost of the riders

in the royal train, observed, with secret satisfaction,
several sumpter mules laden with refreshments, which
the provident care of the archbishop had sent for the
entertainment of his captive guest; and, as the hour
of refection approached, contrived to draw near his
master, who had just drawn his couteau de chasse across
at his feet.

woods and pure air of heaven is worth a hundred pass-the throat of the palpitating animal which lay bleeding

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"Right, Gould!" exclaimed Edward, with either real or affected confidence; "I will be guided by thy "Look!" said the delighted Edward, pointing to the countenance; it were unjust to doubt thee." seven branches! A hart of grease-a royal The woodman smiled, and left the captive to re-hart! By heavens, I could almost imagine myself in our royal forest of Windsor, with Suffolk and Rivers by our side!"

pose.

CHAPTER VII.

O'er bog, o'er fen, we merrily ride,

And follow our prey by the mountain side. HE More was one of those strongly fortified manTHE sions, the remains of which may still be seen in various parts of the country, dotting it with ivy-clad towers and picturesque ruins-memorials of an age when the sword was law, and every great noble and feudatory of the crown maintained a petty court, and exercised sovereign authority in his own domains. Like most great houses of the time, it was surrounded by extensive woods, intersected here and there with patches of open, cultivated land; but the sturdy oaks, the shelter of the dappled deer, have long since disap peared before the labor of the husbandman; and crops of heavy golden corn or rich pastures occupy the wide space formerly reserved for the pleasures of the chase, and the preservation of game.

The Norman conquerors were passionate lovers of the chase an amusement in which prelates and nobles shared alike; and the hunting establishment of a bishop was as much a portion of his state, as his chaunters and stole-bearer, and generally treated with more

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The tower, which was without windows, contained but one apartment; originally it had been divided into several stages or floors, but they had long since disappeared; the blackened, half-burnt beams, fragments of which still protruded from the walls, indicated the means of destruction employed; the staircase which conducted to the roof, being of stone, had remained uninjured by the fire.

Humph!" muttered Hugh Neville, after glancing suspiciously round the bare walls, without, however, finding anything to alarm him for the safety of his charge, "I think I may venture to trust him here; there is no outlet save the door and the roof, and a bird only could escape from that."

for him in the old tower, which was completely encirWhen Edward arrived, he found his refection spread cled by the huntsmen and retainers of his enemies, who were seated on the sward refreshing themselves after the fatigues of the chase. When he saw how completely the building was guarded, he cast a dissatisfied look at Gould, who only returned it by one of his confident smiles.

"I cannot understand him," thought the captive; "either he has means I wot not of, or the knave is playing me false?"

Selecting his chamberlain and the woodman to serve him, he entered the building, the door of which Gould instantly closed, at the same time shooting the ponderous iron bolts into the solid masonry of the walls.

"Still a prisoner!" exclaimed the impatient king. "Not so, your grace," answered Gould, joyously; "you are free, and England is once more your own; in a few days the haughty Warwick, his subtle brother, and the rebellious Clarence, shall be at your

feet!"

Edward's only reply was an incredulous look.

When Hugh Neville saw the strongly studded door of the tower close upon his charge, he only smiled; he deemed it an ebullition of disappointment and ill-hu"All!" repeated the servitor, at the same time draw-mor, so perfectly did he feel assured of the impossibiing back, in order to avoid suspicion.

As he had foreseen, Sir Hugh Neville approached his charge, to ascertain when and where it would please him to partake of the good things his kinsman had prepared.

"Even where you please," said Edward, who felt

lity to escape.

"Let him sulk!" he muttered, as he seated himself with several esquires-who had already attacked a venison pasty-directly opposite the portal; "an he sulk himself out of the Abbot's Tower, I will forgive him."

The shades of evening were beginning to fall before he ventured to summon the royal captive to depart. No answer being returned, after repeated efforts the door was driven in from its massive fastenings.

"By heavens!" he exclaimed, gazing round the walls with a look of astonishment, "he has escaped! The place is empty!"

The staircase which led to the roof was double. On removing the flag which covered the topmost step, a second descent, conducting to an arched passage, extending far into the woods, became visible. Gould had become acquainted with the secret, and used it for the flight of his master and himself,

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ALTHOUGH Elizabeth and her infant family had

the approach even of their victorious army to the walls
of the Tower.

The wily prelate was right; he calculated on the
superstition of the age, and the influence of its terrors
on the people.

Elizabeth, attended by her mother and the principal officers of the Tower, appeared on the outward wails of the fortress, to listen, as they expected, to a summons addressed to them, in the names of Clarence and Warwick, for the surrender of the place. Great was the confusion of the queen and Jaquetta, when an ccclesiastic advanced from the clump of spears, instead of a herald.

In lieu of proposing terms of accommodation, he summoned, in an insolent tone, the Duchess of Bedford to appear before the archbishop, to answer to the charge of sorcery and magic sworn to against her by Thomas Wake, one of the esquires of the king's bodyguard.

Despite her natural firmness, the check of the remained in London in comparative security-haughty woman blanched with terror as she listened thanks to the loyalty of the citizens-her position was to the accusation, the effect of which she read in the anything but an enviable one. Many of her husband's horror-stricken looks of those around her. This was partisans openly blamed her ambitious schemes for the perhaps the only occasion on which Elizabeth displayaggrandisement of her family as the cause of the civil ed true courage. Calling John Gould to her side, war, and went so far as to hint that Edward would do she pointed with her own hands to the audacious well to submit the validity of his marriage to the wis-priest. dom of parliament. Things were in this state, when the proposal was made for the marriage of her eldest daughter with young George Neville.

At first the queen was not averse to it it would at least secure to her the undisputed title of Edward's wife-for Warwick would never suffer the validity of a marriage to be mooted on which the realization of his ambitious hopes depended.

The Duchess of Bedford, alarmed at the accusation of sorcery which had been launched against her, warmly approved the plan; and there is little doubt that had Edward continued much longer a prisoner, it would have been carried out; but his sudden re-appearance in London completely changed the current of events. Warwick and Clarence, alarmed at his escape from the custody of the archbishop, embarked for France, and narrowly escaped in their flight, falling into the hands of Anthony Woodvine-the queen's brother-who had the command of the royal navy, and who succeeded in capturing the rebels' ships, with the exception of the one which the earl and duke, together with their families, were on board of.

But the party of the King-maker was too strong in the north for its leader to remain long either in exile or inactivity. He shortly afterwards returned to England, and soon appeared at the head of a numerous

army.

Before marching to meet his too-powerful subject, Edward placed his queen and family, for security, in the Tower of London, which he confided to the guard of the citizens. Elizabeth promised once more to become a mother, and the king ardently desired a son, whose birth would defeat the project of the rebellious Warwick-of uniting his heiress with George Neville, and so transferring the crown to his own issue.

"A silver arrow for thee, if thou bringest him down!"

But, his errand being accomplished, the messenger did not choose to wait to receive such thanks as the queen and her mother might feel disposed to pay him. He witnessed the action of Elizabeth, and the levelling of the arquebuss by Gould, and darted into the group of bowmen for protection.

Secretly the honest woodman was not dissatisfied that the priest had escaped him; it was a serious thing in that age, even at the bidding of a queen, to shed the blood of the meanest son of the church.

With an air of disappointment and vexation, Elizabeth and her mother retired from the walls. John Gould was soon afterwards summoned to their presence.

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'What," demanded the queen, who had every confidence in his loyalty and discretion, "has been the effect produced upon the garrison by the insolent citation of the archbishop ?"

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Most disastrous, your grace. The citizens, who were but lukewarm, have become absolutely cold in your cause, and the superstitious Fiemings declare openly that they will not fight against the church."

"Cowards!" exclaimed the duchess; "am I not of the blood of their princes!"

66

Superstition, madam," observed the young man, "is stronger than loyalty."

Elizabeth paced her chamber for some minutes with
an irresolute step. Her mind at last seemed made
up.

"Since they have evoked superstition to their aid,
I must combat mine enemies with their own arms."
"What is it you propose to do?" demanded her
mother, with an uneasy glance.

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To fly !"

A second time did Edward commit the imprudence Fly!" repeated the duchess, disdainfully. of advancing to the north, where the influence of the "Ay, mother, to a fortress stronger than the Tower Nevilles was paramount. Disaffection became gradu--better defended than by hands guarded by the terally rife in the army, which was corrupted by the rors and credulity of the people-the sanctuary at agents of Warwick and the gold of the archbishop. Westminster. Not even the traitor Warwick will dare To avoid being given up once more a prisoner to his to approach me there!" insolent enemies, Edward fled, in the middle of the night, from his revolted troops, and embarked at Lynn, for the Low Countries.

No sooner did Elizabeth hear of the disasters and flight of her husband, than she made preparations for withstanding a siege-arming and victualling the Tower. The Duchess of Bedford-who knew how little she had to hope from the mercy of her enemics, should she fall into their hands-incited her daughter to hold out by every argument in her power. Besides the city guard, there was a numerous body of Flemish mercenaries in the fortress, which was well provided with munitions of war.

The courage of Elizabeth held good even to the entry of Warwick and Clarence to London. No sooner had the rebel lords took possession of the city, than it was proposed to send a herald to the queen, with offers of terms for herself and garrison. The Archbishop of York, who was present, demanded permission of his brother to send a message first, which he promised should cause more consternation to their enemies than

Continued on Page 89.

GOSSIP.-Eighteen years ago, the Emperor Napoleon III., then twenty years of age, offered his hand to a beautiful English lady of noble birth, and was haughtily refused. "Mademoiselle," said he, "you have thrown away a crown?" A fantastic speech, no doubt, for a young adventurer with nothing but great hopes, a high heart, a few thousands, a great name, and exile! On the 29th of January, 1835, it is said that Louis Napoleon, irritated, or at all events disappointed, by the refusal of a lady who now boasts one of the highest names in England, went to Lady Blessington, and told her of her rejection, but not of his fine speech, which immensely amused the world of London when it was known. That day eighteen years, Mdlle. De Montijo, was Empress of France, and the twenty-five quarterings of the noble Spanish senora will be emblazoned on the shield of the new dynasty.

SCHOOL AND SUMMER.

STUDY to-day! those children twain
Bend o'er the unlearn'd task in vain,
But only with their eyes;
Each little heart is out of doors,
Bounds o'er the blooming earth, or soars
To yon rejoicing skies.

Hard to sit still, while thus around
Motion and sparkle so abound,

To charm the childish sight.
Soft music floats through dell and green,
Even the very floor is seen

To undulate with life.

While, like a welcome from the woods,
Streams the fresh smell of bursting buds
The open windows through;
And on the sea-that lies asleep.
Yet dreams of motion-light waves leap
Distractedly in view.

And who o'er musty rules could pore,
While waving boughs of sycamore

Drip sunshine on the brook?
Catch now and then on each dull word
The flitting shadow of a bird-
Without a rueful look ?

Not there they seem constrained to talk
of flower and fount, and forest walk,
And oh if they could dwell
Like pretty Maia in the wood
Beneath a leaf, and drink their food
From each wild blossom's bell!
Come, let the weary lessons end,
The fair young Summer must not spend
Her holiday alone;

And one beneath the open skies
Surely those changed, up lifted eyes

The same bright hue have won.
Oh, happy creatures! scarce they pass
A daisy, pink, or flowery grass.
Without a burst of joy,

A smooth grey pebble is a prize;
The glancing of the butterflies,
Enchants them, girl and boy.
What deep delight to stand and hear
The linet tremulously clear,

The droning of the bee;
That sound of waves, so soft in swell,
As loud might issue from a shell,
That whispers of the sea.

To gather. in the deep green lane,
The hawthorn blossoms that remain,
Last month's delicious boon;
And feel it as the perfumed breath,
The shade of May that lingereth

Upon the skirts of June.
See the wild rosebuds crimsoning;
It is the blushing of the Spring
'Neath Summer's earliest kiss.
The children's shout seems wildly fit,-
The thrill of life is exquisite-

On such a day as this.

At last we reach a still retreat,
Cushioned with moss, and scented sweet,
A forest parlor fair;

Soft jets of sunshine pouring through
Its emerald roof, and Heaven's calni blue
Just glimpsing here and there.
While each a wild wood garland weaves
Beneath th flickering of the leaves,-
How fair they seem and still!

A moment more both laughing stand,
And shake for sport, from hand to hand,
The silver of the rill.

And now a fairy measure tread
Anon the tiny feast is spread,

And while the day goes by,
The echoed voice of each gay elf
Returns, as though e'en Silence' self
Laughed back for sympathy.
Say'st thou the day was idly spent,
Its beauty all ineloquent,

Good lessons to impart ;
That, looking at the unfathomed sky,
No holy scene of mystery

Would settle round the heart?
Or will they love cach other less
For seeing Nature's lovingness?
Or more ungrateful prove
For having joined a childish lay
With her thanksgiving psalm to-day,
To her grateful King above?
Nay; but whate'er their future lot,
The memory of that verdant spot,
The coolness and the calm,
Upon worn spirits, tired of life,
Or through the fever of the strife,
Will fall as soft as balm.
Oh! we should steep our senses dull
In all the pure and beautiful

That God for them hath given ;
Creep into Nature's heart, and thence
Look out with gratitude intenso
On life, and up to heaven.

THE GREAT EXHIBITION IN DUBLIN. THE idea of having expositions of the industry of all nations was borrowed from those immense bazaars and fairs which, from time immemorial, have been held in various countries in the East, particularly India, Arabia, Syria, and Asia Minor. But we are immmediately indebted to the benevolent feelings of the charitable for the introduction of the system, on a large scale, into more civilized countries.

The French, we believe, were the first to institute bazaars for charitable purposes. An attractive collection was formed of the elegant as well as useful products of industry; and, to lend enchantment to its purpose, the fairest and noblest ladies of the land, by

their presence, as managers and saleswomen, imparted
a witchery to the scene, gratifying as it was in its ori-
ginal, unsophisticated intention.

ed, that exhibitions, on a large scale, of articles for sale, to raise funds for beneficent purposes, only required good management to be successful, it was reThe noble example thus offered to the world by the served for the French to enlarge and extend the idea to wealthy and high-born of the polished circles of Paris, an exposition of the useful, beautiful, and instructive was not lost upon England and America. They instantly in art, science, and manufactures. The first "great" adopted it, as an admirable mode of collecting funds to exhibition was held in Paris, under the auspices of relieve the distressed, and offer consolation to the Louis Philippe. England followed closely behind in afflicted. Accordingly, within the past half century, this novel attempt to blend amusement with instrucbazaars, in support of the claims of those in need of tion, while appealing to the warmer instincts of our charity, have been usual and regular, and people have nature in behalf of those least able to help themselves. flocked to them with almost the eagerness with which But in adopting the idea in its new form, they made it they would go to a theatre or a concert. more practical. They gave some permanent and proThe principle having been thus pleasantly establish- ductive power to the fruits of its success.

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The Irish Industrial Exhibition is already triumphantly successful. It is held in the capital city of Ireland, which occupies one of the finest sites in Europe. Few cities can boast so handsome a situation as DUBLIN. A beautiful river flows through it, and in its architecture and design it is bolder-is spread over comparatively a larger surface-than the majority of

the cities in Great Britain.

[VIEW OF THE DUBLIN EXHIBITION PALACE.] Engraved for the New York Journal, by J. D. Felter. into halls or courts, and some idea may be formed of during the existence of the exhibition; create not only the size of some of them, when we mention that the a feeling, but a deep intellectual impression, that peace machinery hall is 450 feet in length. The other and industry go hand-in-hand; and this being carried courts are devoted to raw materials of all kinds-espe- to fire-sides, and village festivals, and town meetings, cially the natural productions of Ireland; to sculpture, will not-cannot fail to stir up the warm Irish heart to comprising casts of finely and curiously engraved impulses which will long survive the glowing moment crosses, which have lain for centuries in grave-yards; in which they were born. and to the fine arts. Among the gems and jewellery exhibited, is an assemblage of those costly relics of remote ages, when the arts of the lapidary and goldsmith flourished in Ireland. The department of manufactures is peculiarly rich. All the large cities of the continent have contributed, and British and Irish skill and taste will once more be contrasted with that of continental Europe. We may mention that the Emperor and Empress of the French have been exceedingly liberal to the Exhibition, and that America has not forgotten the land that has supplied her soil with so many stalwart sons and blooming daughters.

The building in which this display of enterprise and the world's industry is held, has been erected in Merrion Square, and, as will be seen from our illustration, is bold and striking in outline as well as proportions. The roof swells upwards into imposing domes-the central one especially so, for it is a hundred feet higher than the two longitudinal ones, and is composed of twelve semicircular ribs of timbers, each weighing upwards of seven tons, and spanning a hall twenty-eight feet wider than the transept of the London Crystal Palace of 1851. The other domes-if domes they may be termed-have central skylights, twenty-five feet in breadth, extending the whole length of the halls which they cover. The exterior dimensions of the building are 425 feet in breadth, and 470 feet in depth; so that the basement portion approaches nearly to a square. The total height from the pavement of Merrion Square to the top of the central dome, is nearly three hundred feet. Taken altogether, it is a handsome looking building, and does credit to all who have been concerned in its erection.

The interior arrangements nearly correspond with those of its great predecessor. The building is divided

For Ireland, we sanguinely anticipate the very best results from her metropolitan feast of industry and intellect. It will introduce her people to a knowledge of other countries and other modes of thought; it will show them Ireland as she really is, one of the richest countries on the face of the earth; it will spur on their energies to greater attempts to possess those riches; it will show them that the inexhaustible mine of wealth lying untouched beneath their feet, to be useful, must be diligently and industriously gathered; it will assist in destroying local prejudices, from the number of friendships that must inevitably be formed

To the memory of Wellington a noble monument is to be erected. It is a magnificent school in which the children of army officers are to be addmitted free. The subscriptions for the purpose are headed by the Queen, and already the required sum is nearly attained.

In the Rouen Museum of Antiquities is exhibited duly labelled and catalogued, the heart of Richard Cœur de Lion. It appears that a few years since, in repairing the old cathedral of Ronen, the heart was found embalmed and enclosed in a vase. From this vase it was unceremoniously removed to its present position

ONE of the luxuries at this season is sea-bathing. To be amphibious, is at present the prevailing epidemic. Nothing can be more delightful than a smooth, shelving beach, a fine rolling surf, and no better sport than to have it rolling and tumbling over you.

When a young couple are seen visiting a "Cheap Furniture Mart," you may interpret it into a pretty fair sign that "the happy day" is not far distant.

AMERICAN SCENES AND INCIDENTS.

NO. II.

predilections, fresh from the domain of monarchy and well as to the munificence of the government, we monarchical institutions. No great credit would have a comparatively small and plain building, of no THE residence of the Chief Magistrate of this great accrue to our institutions if they were judged by the exterior pretensions, and our readers can judge of the Republic must always be an object of warm interest, narrow criterion of the palace in which their head is interior by the illustration of the East, or grand recepnot only to the American citizen, but to the stranger lodged. Instead of a magnificent structure which tion room, which we give below. To the best of our who comes among us, with all his prejudices and should be an honor to the skill of our architects, as recollection no representation of this apartment has

[graphic]

GRAND RECEPTION ROOM OF THE WHITE HOUSE AT WASHINGTON.

Drawn expressly for the New York Journal, from an Original Sketch, by John R. Chapin, and Engraved by N. Orr.

ever been offered to the public, and now that the entire mansion is undergoing extensive alterations we have judged it to be a fit time to engrave it for the readers of the JOURNAL, and thus preserve a likeness of what the East Room was.

Shade Trees.

THERE are certain of our streets upon which the sun pours at almost all hours with a broad glare, and beats upon the unprotected pedestrian who traverses them as if nothing short of his dissolution could saA glance at the engraving will give a better idea of tisfy its burning desire. Why it is that the good citiit than any description we can offer. The room is 84 zens, whose houses line these streets, do not cultivate feet long by about 50 wide, and has six windows-trees for the sake of their grateful and cooling shade, three front and back-besides the large one, which we are puzzled to know. Certainly one would think looks out upon Pennsylvania Avenue and the Capitol. The door nearest the eye on the right opens into the hall, while the large double door next beyond opens into an anti-room, where guests are received previous to entering the larger room. Beyond this is a smaller door opening into the Cabinet room, which is beautifully furnished in green and gold. What is rather remarkable, there is no work of art in any of the rooms. This is the more to be regretted, as, if anywhere, the production of our artists ought to be found surrounding our nation's Chief Magistrate.

A MONUMENT to the American citizens and soldiers who died in the prison ships on Long Island during the Revolution, is to be erected in Trinity churchyard. It is to be in the style of the monumental crosses in Europe, and will conform in general appearance to the architecture of the church. The height will be about seventy feet.

that their domicils would be all the pleasanter thus protected from the sun, aside from the sweet fragrance which they bestow upon the air, and the natural beauty they would possess. Besides, ingenuity cannot invent a more beautiful ornament wherewith to grace our city than shade trees. It would be a blessing if every street could become canopied by interlacing branches.

As we are on this subject, let us say one thing about the kind of trees that should be adopted for such purposes. With our people, everything is fashion, and the fashionable tree now is the alanthus. This tree, which, by the good sense of the government at Washington, has been excluded from the public grounds of that city, is an abomination. Not that a few specimens would be at all objectionable, but somehow we have forgotten that there are any other varieties, and now wherever and whenever trees are set out, it is the alanthus, everlastingly the alanthus. This tree, when

flowering, has a peculiar offensive odour, and is decidedly unwholesome. And as it attains to no great size, beauty, or age, it is in every way unfitted for the purpose for which it is used. Its advantage is, that it is hardy, and will grow where but few other trees could find nourishment. This is a great merit, we admit, to those who set down their trees in a bed of sand, wedge them around with paving stones, and then with a charming simplicity of faith expect them to grow. Nothing but the alanthus could grow with such treatment, and they do so miserably. What we want for ornamental trees are the elm, the locust, the willow, and kindred trees. They grow slowly, but plant them, sir, and in the majestic beauty of their age, they will be as monuments of your taste, and objects whereby you shall be remembered gratefully.

MACAULAY's present position in England is an exceedingly brilliant one. In the Commons his speeches are eliciting the most enthusiastic applause. The fame that he is now winning as an orator, equals, if it does not excel, that which he won as an essayist and as a historian. No sooner is it known in the lobbies of the House that he is "up," than there is a general rush of the members to the floors, and of spectators to the galleries, and the best speeches of Fox or Sheridan were not listened to more breathlessly than his efforts. At present, his speeches are the London brilliant, pointed, witty, learned, and gentleman-like gossip.

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