| as mere accuracy of form went. His great and unsurpassed power lay in the life and character he threw into all his works. His dogs are not, it has been said, mere portraits, they are thinking, almost rational creatures, wanting only the gift of speech to hold converse with us. Grave, humorous, sad, as the subject required, the countenances and movements of the dumb animals have almost human truthfulness and intenseness. Was ever woe more touching and pathetic expressed on canvas than in "The Shepherd's Chief Mourner"? Was ever character more thoroughly set in contrast than in "Dignity and Impudence"? Each picture is in itself a story as well as a study. It was the genius rather than the art of Landseer that placed him on his lofty elevation, and after his long and brilliant career caused him to be laid in St. Paul's Cathedral among the great painters of England. red. While we say that it was not as a colourist that he excelled, no one was more sensible of the effect produced by striking and harmonious colour. In most of his works he has chosen, with much discretion, a low tone of neutral grey for the key-note of his composition, but he took care to brighten up the quiet effect by bits of bright colour, especially Mr. Frank Buckland, whose genial and amusing comments on the animal pictures in the Royal Academy exhibitions have delighted the critics for some seasons, has called special notice to "Landseer's favourite red spot." The question was raised in that pleasant paper, "Land and Water," whether Sir Edwin was correct or not in painting a drop of blood on the broken brow antler of a red deer in the celebrated painting of "Deer Fighting," now in Dunrobin Castle. Mr. Buckland's conclusion was that "a young horn, from which the velvet had lately been absorbed, might bleed, but Sir Edwin put on this bit of red at the tip of the broken horn simply to set off the rest of the picture." To confirm this opinion, Mr. Buckland made examination of the other pictures in the splendid collection gathered after Sir Edwin's death, and the following report is the result: I have been to see the collection of Sir Edwin's pictures at Burlington House, and while examining them it all at once struck me to find out whether the artist had put in his "bit of red colour" into any of his other pictures. I went rather hastily round the galleries first, and then, thinking I had found what I wanted, I made a more careful inspection, with, I think, the satisfactory result-that Sir Edwin purposely introduced "his favourite bit of red" into nearly all his pictures, and it will be seen from what follows to what curious shifts and contrivances he has been sometimes put for the sake of this. Thus we find "Charles Sheridan ;" red pattern on a child's drum, and red sealing-wax on a letter on the floor; "Shepherd's Home;" baby's lips abnormally red. "Prosperity;" red roses. red roses. "Adversity;" red flowerpot. "Dash and Lion; " red tuft to hawk's hood. "Dandie and the Hedgehog;" red poppies. "H.R.H. the Princess Royal with Pony and Dog;" red halter to pony. "Brazilian Monkeys;" a pineapple. "The Twins; " red cloth. "Highland Cairn;" red coal in the fire. "Pair of Nutcrackers;" breast of bullfinch. "Sick Monkey;" an orange. "Otter Hunt;" huntsman's coat, and red tongue of otter. "Laying Down the Law;" red back to chair on which dog is sitting. "Van 66 Amburgh and his Lion;" Van Amburgh's red velvet cap, lion's head and soldier's coat in the distance. "Van Amburgh and his Lions" (another picture, ; playbill printed in red letters, and bouquet with red flowers." Chillingham Bull;" red inside nostrils. Bolton Abbey in Olden Time;" red spots on trout, red wine in bottle, and a red coat. "Refreshment,” and also "Horses and Dogs;" red carrots. "Dead Game;" red markings over pheasant's eye. "Random Shot; " blood on snow. "Polar Bears discovering Relics of Sir John Franklin;" bears tearing at a red flag half-buried in snow. "Life in the Old Dog yet;" dog's tongue red. "Hunted Stag; blood in mouth. "Godolphin Arabian;" red bricks of stable wall, and red hoops to stable-bucket. "Titania and Bottom;" red wreath on ass's head. "Flood in Highlands;" duck's legs, cow's nostril, ribbon round man's cap. "Arab Tent;" lighted stick ends. "Cover Hack;" red handle to scraper, and red flower-pot. "Sutherland Children;" red flowers in garland, boy with plaid stockings with red markings. "Boz;" blood in rabbit's mouth. "Earl and Countess of Sefton;" red riding-habit. "Dogs and Parrot; " red feathers of bird, and sealingwax. "H.M. the Queen;" red handle to riding-whip. "H.M. the Queen at Loch Muir;" red flag, red on gills of fish. This fish is neither grilsc, salmon, sea, common, nor bull-trout; the, fins are wrongly placed, and there is no adipose fin. If poor Sir Edwin had been alive I would have chafled him over this. "Ptarmigan;" red eye contrasted with snow. "Lion and the Lamb;" inside of lamb's ears red. "Sir Francis Chantrey's Studio; " red cloth on table. "Horses at Fountain;" groom's red coat, woman's stockings. "Little Doggie and Looking-glass; 1 red paint in saucer, and painter's brush by it. "Fairy, a White Horse;" edge of blanket red. "Partridges; blood from broken wing. caught yet;" blood near rabbit-trap. "Baptismal Font;" red inside lamb's ear. "Otter and Salmon;" blood on salmon's gills, blood on wounds of white skin between pectoral and abdominal fins. I don't think this part of the salmon (being mostly fat) would bleed much. "Sin Offering; " lighted ashes blown upwards from fire about to burn up the scapegoat. Travelled Monkey;" monkey has a red coat. "Deer Family; red inside deer's nose. "Highland Nurses; " stag's tongue red. "Badger, Dog, and Monkey;" orange-peel and red coat. "Loch Laggan; " Highlander's kilt. "Donkey and Thistle; " red about donkey-bridle. "No Hunting till Weather breaks;" huntsman's coat, and red feathers on breast of a robin. "Sir Walter Scott;' red pocket-handkerchief, red on cap and in corner of dog's eye. "Voltigeur, winner of the Derby;" red binding to horse-cloth, horse's nose red, cat's nose pink. 'Beauty's Bath;" red sofa, and red rose floating in the bath. "The Dog Countess;" feathers on cock's neck, and dead rat's wound bleeding. "Highlander with Eagle;" the man's face and hair are red. "A Trophy;" hawk's hood red. "Duke of Devonshire as a Knight; "red plume to helmet. "Grouse;" blood from broken wing. "Skye" and "Saved;" red on stones apropos to nil. "Swanery invaded by Eagles; " lots of red blood everywhere, showing up white plumage of swans. Finally, but not least, "The Connoisseurs;" portrait of Sir Edwin Landseer himself, presented by him to the Prince of Wales. Here we have the great animal painter with canvas before him, two noble dogs are "Not looking over his shoulder in the attitude of criticising the growing picture; and now mark, Sir Edwin has as crayon-holder in his hand, and in the reverse end which is not in use is inserted a red crayon. I trust that this crowning fact, together with those above mentioned, will induce my readers to agree with me that the red spot in Sir Edwin Landseer's pictures is no accident, but rather a favourite device, frequently-nay, almost always-used by him, the value of which, to set off a picture, no one knew better than himself. So much has been said and written about Landseer as an animal painter, that his figure subjects (except where combined with animals) have been comparatively little noticed. Yet the few pure figure subjects are in themselves admirable works. We give an engraving of one of the earliest, "Little Red Riding Hood," which was in the recent Landseer Gallery. It was painted, as Miss Landseer informs us, in 1831, and engraved, according to Mr. Graves's catalogue, in 1835. Another familiar picture, which may be taken as a companion to this, "The Naughty Child," was painted in 1834, and engraved in 1812. These two early pictures show promise of what Sir Edwin Landseer might have done as a portrait painter, if he had not found a realm of art in which he reigned without a rival. The Fourth of June. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE KING'S BIRTHDAY. DOWN OWN the long vista of departed years, Than the King's birthday. Happy was the lot In our young days when George the Third was King. It was the merriest day of all the year, Longed for and talked of by the evening fire; The thoughts of it the heavy hours would cheer Of school restraint, and buoyant hopes inspire. The heart leapt forth to meet it. The desire It was the season then of bird and flower, The glorious fourth of June; and all would bring Flora's choice offerings, fresh from sun and shower, To deck their doors and windows, and to fling Beauty and fragrance on the morning hour; And ere the lark's first matin ceased to ring, Oh then the bells rung out their loudest peal The shops were shut, the schools got all the play; And when the shades of night began to steal O'er the blithe revels of a scene so gay, The bonfires flung abroad their ruddy glare, And Roman candles darted through the air. Like fiery serpents hissing o'er the street, Beneath his very nose, devoid of fear; And then the military grand parade- God save the King! it was a stirring sight, When we were young, accounting it a crime. THE LAND OF THE GIANT CITIES. BY THE REV. J. WRIGHT, DAMASCUS. II. AS S we gross the river into a rich loamy plain we find a caravan of mules and donkeys laden with jars, on their way to the Hauran. The men rush toward us as we approach, and make an attempt to kiss our stirrups; and then follows a little torrent of jerked-out ejaculations, along with which the hands are held up to heaven, thanking God for sending us to be their protectors. One of our servants shouts out, "God is great," the usual solace for all difficulties, and we are in the act of riding on past them, when they appeal to us so piteously that we have not the heart to leave them. They point to their little donkeys, and their fragile burdens, and tell us how many mishaps they have had on this same road between this and Burâk. They assure us that the Arabs will, without doubt, sweep down upon them from behind some hill if we leave them, "And oh! my lords, we have only you and God to trust in." Their appeal is successful, and we linger with them, much against our will. They have been awaiting us all morning, as our muleteers, who are of their party, had informed them of the strong escort | as mere accuracy of form went. His great and unsurpassed power lay in the life and character he threw into all his works. His dogs are not, it has been said, mere portraits, they are thinking, almost rational creatures, wanting only the gift of speech to hold converse with us. Grave, humorous, sad, as the subject required, the countenances and movements of the dumb animals have almost human truthfulness and intenseness. Was ever woe more touching and pathetic expressed on canvas than in "The Shepherd's Chief Mourner"? Was ever character more thoroughly set in contrast than in "Dignity and Impudence"? Each picture is in itself a story as well as a study. It was the genius rather than the art of Landseer that placed him on his lofty elevation, and after his long and brilliant career caused him to be laid in St. Paul's Cathedral among the great painters of England. While we say that it was not as a colourist that he excelled, no one was more sensible of the effect produced by striking and harmonious colour. In most of his works he has chosen, with much discretion, a low tone of neutral grey for the key-note of his composition, but he took care to brighten up the quiet effect by bits of bright colour, especially red. Mr. Frank Buckland, whose genial and amusing comments on the animal pictures in the Royal Academy exhibitions have delighted the critics for some seasons, has called special notice to "Landseer's favourite red spot." The question was raised in that pleasant paper, "Land and Water," whether Sir Edwin was correct or not in painting a drop of blood on the broken brow antler of a red deer in the celebrated painting of "Deer Fighting," now in Dunrobin Castle. Mr. Buckland's conclusion was that "a young horn, from which the velvet had lately been absorbed, might bleed, but Sir Edwin put on this bit of red at the tip of the broken horn simply to set off the rest of the picture." To confirm this opinion, Mr. Buckland made examination of the other pictures in the splendid collection gathered after Sir Edwin's death, and the following report is the result: "Dead Amburgh and his Lion;" Van Amburgh's red velvet cap, lion's head and soldier's coat in the distance. "Van Amburgh and his Lions" (another picture, playbill printed in red letters, and bouquet with red flowers. "Chillingham Bull;" red inside nostrils. "Bolton Abbey in Olden Time;" red spots on trout, red wine in bottle, and a red coat. "Refreshment," and also "Horses and Dogs ;" red carrots. Game;" red markings over pheasant's eye. "Random Shot; " blood on snow. "Polar Bears discovering Relics of Sir John Franklin;" bears tearing at a red flag half-buried in snow. "Life in the Old Dog yet;" dog's tongue red. "Hunted Stag; blood in mouth. "Godolphin Arabian ;" red bricks of stable wall, and red hoops to stable-bucket. "Titania and Bottom;" red wreath on ass's head. "Flood in Highlands; " duck's legs, cow's nostril, ribbon round man's cap. "Arab Tent;" lighted stick ends. "Cover Hack;" red handle to scraper, and red flower-pot. "Sutherland Children;" red flowers in garland, boy with plaid stockings with red markings. "Boz;" blood in rabbit's mouth. "Earl and Countess of Sefton;" red riding-habit. "Dogs and Parrot; " red feathers of bird, and sealingwax. "H.M. the Queen;" red handle to riding-whip. "H.M. the Queen at Loch Muir;" red flag, red on gills of fish. This fish is neither grilse, salmon, sea, common, nor bull-trout; the, fins are wrongly placed, and there is no adipose fin. If poor Sir Edwin had been alive I would have chaffed him over this. "Ptarmigan;" red eye contrasted with snow. "Lion and the Lamb; inside of lamb's ears red. "Sir Francis Chantrey's Studio; " red cloth on table. "Horses at Fountain;" groom's red coat, woman's stockings. "Little Doggie and Looking-glass; red paint in saucer, and painter's brush by it. "Fairy, a White Horse;" edge of blanketˇred. "Partridges; "blood from broken wing. "Not caught yet;" blood near rabbit-trap. "Baptismal Font;" red inside lamb's ear. "Otter and Salmon;" blood on salmon's gills, blood on wounds of white skin between pectoral and abdominal fins. I don't think this part of the salmon (being mostly fat) would bleed much. "Sin Offering;" lighted ashes blown upwards from fire about to burn up the scapegoat. Travelled Monkey;" monkey has a red coat. "Deer Family; "red inside deer's nose. "Highland Nurses; " stag's tongue red. "Badger, Dog, and Monkey;" orange-peel and red coat. "Loch Laggan; " Highlander's kilt. "Donkey and Thistle; " red about donkey-bridle. "No Hunting till Weather breaks;" huntsman's coat, and red feathers on breast of a robin. "Sir Walter Scott;' red pocket-handkerchief, red on cap and in corner of dog's eye. Voltigeur, winner of the Derby;" red binding to horse-cloth, horse's nose red, cat's nose pink. Beauty's Bath;" red sofa, and red rose floating in the bath. "The Dog Countess;" feathers on cock's neck, and dead rat's wound bleeding. Highlander with Eagle;" the man's face and hair are red. "A Trophy;" hawk's hood red. "Duke of Devonshire as a Knight;" red plume to helmet. "Grouse;" blood from broken wing. "Skyo" and "Saved;" red on stones apropos to mil. "Swanery invaded by Eagles;" lots of red blood everywhere, showing up white plumage of swans. Finally, but not least, "The Connoisseurs;" portrait of Sir Edwin Landseer himself, presented by him to the Prince of Wales. Here we have the great animal painter with canvas before him, two noble dogs are I have been to see the collection of Sir Edwin's pictures at Burlington House, and while examining them it all at once struck me to find out whether the artist had put in his "bit of red colour" into any of his other pictures. I went rather hastily round the galleries first, and then, thinking I had found what I wanted, I made a more careful inspection, with, I think, the satisfactory result-that Sir Edwin purposely introduced "his favourite bit of red" into nearly all his pictures, and it will be scen from what follows to what curious shifts and contrivances he has been sometimes put for the sake of this. Thus we find "Charles Sheridan ;" red pattern on a child's drum, and red sealing-wax on a letter on the floor; "Shepherd's Home;" baby's lips abnormally red. "Prosperity; red roses." "Adversity;" red flowerpot. "Dash and Lion; " red tuft to hawk's hood. "Dandie and the Hedgehog;" red poppies. "H.R.H. the Princess Royal with Pony and Dog;" red halter to pony. "Brazilian Monkeys;" a pineapple. "The Twins; " red cloth. "Highland Cairn;" red coal in the fire. "Pair of Nutcrackers;" breast of bullfinch. "Sick Monkey;" an orange. "Otter Hunt;" huntsman's coat, and red tongue of otter. "Laying Down the Law;" red back to chair on which dog is sitting. "Van 66 66 looking over his shoulder in the attitude of criticising the growing picture; and now mark, Sir Edwin has a crayon-holder in his hand, and in the reverse end which is not in use is inserted a red crayon. I trust that this crowning fact, together with those above mentioned, will induce my readers to agree with me that the red spot in Sir Edwin Landseer's pictures is no accident, but rather a favourite device, frequently-nay, almost always-used by him, the value of which, to set off a picture, no one knew better than himself. So much has been said and written about Landseer as an animal painter, that his figure subjects (except where combined with animals) have been comparatively little noticed. Yet the few pure figure subjects are in themselves admirable works. We give an engraving of one of the earliest, "Little Red Riding Hood," which was in the recent Landseer Gallery. It was painted, as Miss Landseer informs us, in 1831, and engraved, according to Mr. Graves's catalogue, in 1835. Another familiar picture, which may be taken as a companion to this, "The Naughty Child," was painted in 1834, and engraved in 1842. These two early pictures show promise of what Sir Edwin Landseer might have done as a portrait painter, if he had not found a realm of art in which he reigned without a rival. The Fourth of June. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE KING'S BIRTHDAY. OWN the long vista of departed years, Than the King's birthday. Happy was the lot In our young days when George the Third was King. It was the merriest day of all the year, Longed for and talked of by the evening fire; The thoughts of it the heavy hours would cheer Of school restraint, and buoyant hopes inspire. It came with summer; and when it drew near The heart leapt forth to meet it. The desire For guns and powder was a passion then, The fierce delight of little boys and men. It was the season then of bird and flower, The glorious fourth of June; and all would bring Flora's choice offerings, fresh from sun and shower, To deck their doors and windows, and to fling Beauty and fragrance on the morning hour; And ere the lark's first matin ceased to ring, Oh then the bells rung out their loudest peal The shops were shut, the schools got all the play; And when the shades of night began to steal O'er the blithe revels of a scene so gay, The bonfires flung abroad their ruddy glare, And Roman candles darted through the air. Like fiery serpents hissing o'er the street, That we should merry then and loyal be. These were the days of loyalty and fun. Beneath his very nose, devoid of fear; And then the military grand parade- God save the King! it was a stirring sight, When we were young, accounting it a crime. A. S. THE LAND OF THE GIANT CITIES. BY THE REV. J, WRIGHT, DAMASOUS. II. AS S we gross the river into a rich loamy plain we find a caravan of mules and donkeys laden with jars, on their way to the Hauran. The men rush toward us as we approach, and make an attempt to kiss our stirrups; and then follows a little torrent of jerked-out ejaculations, along with which the hands are held up to heaven, thanking God for sending us to be their protectors. One of our servants shouts out, "God is great," the usual solace for all difficulties, and we are in the act of riding on past them, when they appeal to us so piteously that we have not the heart to leave them. They point to their little donkeys, and their fragile burdens, and tell us how many mishaps they have had on this same road between this and Burâk. They assure us that the Arabs will, without doubt, sweep down upon them from behind some hill if we leave them, "And oh! my lords, we have only you and God to trust in." Their appeal is successful, and we linger with them, much against our will. They have been awaiting us all morning, as our muleteers, who are of their party, had informed them of the strong escort that our travelling companions had, so they have ventured to come this nearer but more dangerous way in hopes of being protected. Our route lies over a high stony table-land, with hills to right and left. As we proceed we meet an almost naked shepherd, walking towards Damascus, followed by his sheep, from which our potters first infer that the country is safe, as a shepherd and sheep can move through it unmolested; and secondly, that there is great danger, as the shepherd is only coming from some tribe in the vicinity. A deputation of potters now approach us, headed by their most eloquent spokesman, who, by the most fierce and extravagant tales, in which they or their ancestors had put to flight or slaughtered hosts of Bedawin, endeavoured to arouse our valour, or at least to prevent it from "oozing out at our finger ends." When I hint to them that my mare is very timorous, and very fleet, and would no doubt bolt at the first sight of the Arabs, but from their hereditary proficiency in the art of disposing of their enemies, they will never miss us, they suddenly change their cue, and tell how they and their ancestors have been "killed" by the Arabs without any power of retaliation. Of course every second word is punctuated with an oath. The spirit of "brag' has now seized our party, and they boast and swagger, and hurl great stones feebly at the heads of imaginary Bedawin, and keep up a regular fusilade from their one gun. They would collapse like their earthen pots before any serious blow. When we remonstrate with them that their tumultuating and firing are calculated to attract the enemy, they assure us that the Arabs will know from their firing that they are armed, and when they see us with them they will take them for our armed escort. Thus what seems to us folly is only strategy. Following some partridges to the left, I find that there are artificial hollows in the ground, a few hundred yards from the path, in which a large number of Arabs might lie concealed, and pounce almost instantaneously on passers-by. Such a discovery suggests watchfulness and preparedness, especially as we are on one of the paths most frequented by the Arabs. My faith, however, in Bedawy attacks has been growing weaker and weaker for eight years, till I am now almost a confirmed sceptic: they seldom make a serious attack unless the odds is tremendously in their favour. The most conspicuous object in view is a solitary tree, high up on the side of a hill. The hill is called, Abu shajaret, "the father of one tree." This part of the desert is exceedingly stony and barren, but yet it shows signs of former occupation-by foundations of houses, by traces of fields, and by stone walls, stretching miles in a straight line over hill and plain. We pass also a place where water could be had, and where there are numerous sheep-folds surrounded by circular single stone walls breasthigh. We now reach the spot celebrated for Bedawy gazzos (razzias). To the left there is a high conical hill called Abu Muraj, behind which the Arabs lie in wait, and form. A trustworthy man with good sight lies on the top of the hill, so as to be unseen from the road, and, when the proper moment arrives, he starts to his feet, and gives the signal, whereupon the Arabs sweep round the base of the hill with a * The Syrian and Irish idioms are identical. A Syrian, however, who has got a beating says "I ate a killing.” | fiendish noise, and with quivering lances make their sudden flank attack on the passing caravan. Clearing the hill, they find a piece of ground admirably suited for their peculiar hostile operations. If the caravan is properly equipped and commanded, it forms instantly into a circular rampart, the animals being firmly braced the one to the other. The men who have guns fire away in succession as fast as they can over the backs of the mules, and from under the bellies of the camels, and those who have no firelocks stand by their animals with clubs and stones, waiting for the onset at close quarters. If the Bedawin have the caravan at their mercy, and no blood-feud exists to embitter their feelings, they are seldom wantonly cruel. They approach with such shouts as "Surrender, and we will spare your lives, and be content with the half of your loads;" "Give up your gun, and we will leave you your mule." If an easy victory is not certain, the Bedawin, chary of their own blood, but especially of that of their mares, gallop round and round the caravan, endeavouring to cut off stragglers, and making feints here and there at full gallop to break the living rampart, but in the moment of feigned assault wheeling their horses round on their own length, they gallop off. The affair generally ends with much curveting, much dust, and a horrid din. But we have evidence before us that these gazzas do not always end so bloodlessly, for the district around is a cemetery. Here and there are black mounds, where friend and foe rest heaped together, as in more civilised lands, "after a glorious victory;' and in other places are little mounds, and solitary head-stones, which mark the scene of insignificant skirmishes and foul murders. We now descend to the level plain. Here I have an exciting chase after a bustard (otis houbara?) about the size of a large fowl, called by the Arabs "hibari." My mare is so excited at being taken from the rest, that I cannot fire from the saddle, and so I spring to the ground and pursue it on foot. It keeps its distance, about 150 yards from me, and when I stop it stops too. At last I make a final effort down the hill, and have gained upon it till there is only about 100 yards between us, when it takes to its wings, flies about 500 yards, and so I leave it. The sun is sinking in the west when we reach the level plain. Before us a weird-looking dark wall crosses our path like a low, gloomy sea-coast. A thin strip of green corn scems to be sweeping like a sea around the headlands and up among the creeks. And the wondrous Leja (Argob of the Hebrews, Deut. iii. 14-Trachonitis of the Greeks) lies before us, having also the features of a sea—a troubled sea. From no place shall we have a more curious view of the Leja than from here. The setting sun touches the tops of the rocks and the bushes, and, in contrast with the black shadows, they shine like the crests of waves; and the dark shadows appear like the deep furrows of the waves. hard not to believe that the Leja, as spread out before us, is a heavy sea, rolling great billows from west to east. The sun goes down upon us as we near the edge of the plain, and in the brief twilight we see the heads of watchers looking out upon us from the rocks. We ride up a tortuous path into the edge of the Leja, and pitch our tent in the dark, among the ruins of Burâk. It is We are surrounded by a motley crowd of mule |