mention. There were among them some fine specimens. We must also accord our praise to the geese and turkeys, which were in fine condition. On the whole, this exhibition ranks high. Competition is evidently putting breeders on their mettle; and every season will add to the real value of the animals shown. We were exceedingly pleased to observe the interest excited among the visitors, male and female, at the earlier part of the exhibition. Women are now beginning to see that these things are not so contemptible; and that a love of nature may be cultivated without a loss either of time or money. Oh, if we could but kick fashion, and a love of finery, out of this country; and let the heart be studied before the outward personwhat a happy people we should be! But as this never will be the case, let us be thankful for any (the smallest) instalment towards "the consummation so devoutly to be wished." If to breed animals, and show them, be a "fashion" among our women,-may the fashion ever prevail! It will tend to soften their hearts homoeopathically; and cannot but effect some good. THE TENCH AND THE PIKE, We find in a late number of the "Zoologist," a few curious Notes on the Tench and Pike. They are from the pen and observation of W. H. Slaney, Esq., of Hatton Hall. They are as follows: It is generally considered amongst keepers and fishermen, that the tench is a fish which all others of a voracious nature-such as pike, perch, trout, and eels, equally avoid feeding on; and the reason given is, that the slime of the former possesses a healing quality of which other kinds of fish are aware; and that, when wounded or ill, they resort to this physician of the waters, and, by rubbing themselves against the tench, extract a remedy for their ailments; for which, instead of paying any fee, they all agree in considering the former so great a benefactor that it ought to go free, and be protected from all harm. How far it becomes one to doubt the truth of this belief, it is unnecessary to state; but I may be excused in relating the following circumstance which I witnessed a few days since, and leave the conclusion to be drawn from it to others, as to the sentiments imputed to the other kinds of fish in abstaining from feeding on the tench. In a pit or small pool at the back of the house, it is the custom to put such fish of different kinds as are likely to be wanted for the table during the summer, and consequently there is a pretty good store of fish kept in the pit; amongst which are some carp, and many good tench, varying from 1 to 4 lbs. in weight; and there are also a few pike put with them, of from 4 to 9 lbs., as well as some perch, and but a few roach, for the pike to feed on. but These different kinds of fish can be easily seen swimming about in the clear water; and the loud splash of the pike indicates that he has seized some victim, and brought it to an untimely end. side of the pit, and deep in the water, a bright The other day I saw, at some distance from the shining substance slowly moving about, and which I could by no means satisfactorily make out; after watching it for some considerable time, and endeavoring to discover its nature, I at last perceived that across the middle portion projected a dark band, looking as if it were fastened to it and pushing it along and this turned out to be the head of a large pike. The latter, having seized a tench of about 3 lbs. weight, crossways, which it was totally unable to swallow, was gently swiming about with its head somewhat elevated and its tail sunk lower in the water; vainly endeavoring to get the tench down its throat, or to twist it round so that the head of the tench might the more easily lead the way for the rest of its body further into the capacious jaws of its captor; but this could not be effected. The latter therefore continued to carry its prize slowly about the pit, as a dog would a bone. After watching the two fish for some time while engaged in this way, I saw the pike approach the side of the pond; and the keeper, happening to be near at hand, brought a casting-net and threw over both; but unfortunately a bough in the water kept the net from closing, so that the two fish escaped, and were afterwards seen in the pit still in the same position as before, the pike retaining a firm hold of the physician. At last, however, I thought I perceived the latter freed from the tenacious grasp of the pike, who probably finding it impossible to devour so large a prize, let it go free, and the tench, no doubt, rejoicing at its timely escape, considered the attack of its foe a most ungrateful return for favors conferred. This is the only instance I ever met with in which the tench was attacked by any other fish; though I have constantly had them put, together with pike and perch, in small stews and other places, where the absence of food for the predatory species has induced them to seize upon almost every other living thing: all other kinds of fish, rats, young ducks, and moor-hens, have fallen a sacrifice to the all-devouring pike, but not the trimmers or trolling for pike with a tench for a tench; and keepers always avoid setting their bait, alleging as a reason that no other fish will touch it. ON A VIRTUOUS GIRL SLEEPING. Thou liv'st! yet how profoundly deep Like death it almost seems; Thy soul is filled with gentle thought, Unto its shrine by angels brought From Heaven's supreme abode; Thy dreams are not of earthly things, But borne upon Religion's wings They lift thee up to God! THE UNFINISHED PICTURE. THE spider's most attenuated thread T HAS BEEN SAID BY A SHREWD, OBSERVANT, AND TENDER-HEARTED 66 an only child, I need not say how dear he during his absence from the cottage, over these early productions of his pencil; and dear to his aged grandmother were the rude praises bestowed upon them by her rustic neighbors. AUTHOR, that "the loveliest thing in life is the mind of a young child.' The most sensitive thing, he might have added, is the heart of a young artist. Hiding in his bosom a veiled and unspeakable beauty, the in spired neophyte shrinks from contact with the actual, to lose himself in delicious reveries of an ideal world. In those enchanted re- their home, and a view of the Solway, the A beautiful rural landscape surrounded gions, the great and powerful of the earth; Irish Sea, and the distant coast of Scotland, the warrior statesmen of the Elizabethan era; doubtless had its effect upon the mind of the the steel-clad warriors of the mediaval; gor-young painter. Many were the gossipings, geous cathedrals, and the luxuriant pomp of prelates, who had princes for their vassals; courts of fabled and forgotten kings; and, in the deepening gloom of antiquity, the nude Briton and the painted Pict-all pass before his enraptured eyes. Women, beautiful creations! warm with breathing life, yet spiritual as angels, hover around him. Elysian landscapes are in the distance; but ever arresting his steps-cold and spectral in his path-stretches forth the rude hand of Reality. Is it surprising that the petty miseries of life weigh down his spirit? Yet the trembling magnet does not seek the north with more unerring fidelity than that "soft sentient thing," the artist's heart, still directs itself amid every calamity, and in every situation, towards its cynosure -perfection of the beautiful. The law which guides the planets attracts the one. The other is influenced by the Divine mystery which called the Universe itself into being; that sole attribute of genius-cre ation. Few artists escape those minor evils which are almost a necessary consequence in an exquisitely sympathetic organisation. Fortunately these are but transient,-often requisite; bringing forth hidden faculties and deeper feelings, which else might have laid dormant. But iterated disappointments will wear even into a soul of iron; sadly I write it, there have been such instances. True and touching is the tale I have to tell; although it relates to an early period :-- its only charm, in sooth, meeting was delightful to both. The enthuAt last the squire called upon him. The siasm and innate refinement of the young man-the delicate taste, simplicity, and manly benevolence of the squire, were mutually attractive. A commission to paint a picture was given to Stanfield; and a large to his use. You may be sure he was untiring apartment in the manor hall was appropriated in his efforts now. Room to paint-materials to use-studies on every side-patronage to reward-happy artist! Nor was the waut of sweet companionship felt by him. At times a lovely face startled him at his doorway. Sometimes music, "both broad staircase. Sometimes he found a chance of instrument and singing," floated up the handful of flowers resting upon his palette. his dreams; waking or sleeping. Happy, A golden-haired, blue-eyed vision haunted happy artist! The squire had an only daughter. Her name was Blanche. The picture was at last completed. * It so happened that the great Sir Joshua Reynolds at this time paid the squire a visit. Ah! that young heart throbbed then,-not less with dread than joy. No doubt it was a crude production, that picture. But youth. with all its misgivings, is full of hope; and the young artist, in spite of the wise admoIf any, will be sad and simple truth." nitions of his patron, insisted upon concealing In one of those little villages in the north himself behind the canvas, that he might of England which still preserve the antiquated hear the candid opinion of the great painter. pastimes of bygone times, there lived, about a It is scarcely necessary to refer to the fact century ago, a young artist by the name of that Sir Joshua was deaf, and his voice in Stanfield. A small freehold estate barely consequence had that sharpness usual in sufficed to support himself and his aged grand-persons so affected. mother. They resided in a cottage entirely The expected day arrived. The squire and by themselves, and as he was an orphan and his guests stood before the picture. A sweet VOL. V.-4. E voice, like a thread of gold, sometimes mingled with the praises of the rest. At last Sir Joshua spoke. Stanfield listened intently. He heard his picture condemned. Still he listened, his heart beating against his side almost audibly. There might be some redeeming points! Like an i exorable judge, the old painter heaped objection upon objection; and that, too, in tones, it seemed, of peculiar asperity. Poor Stanfield felt as if the icy hand of death were laid upon his heart; and then, with a sickening shudder, fell senseless upon the filcor. They raised him-he recovered—was restored to life; but what was life to him? From that time he drooped daily. At last, his kind patron sent him to Rome. There, amid the eternal monuments of art,— avoiding all companions, immured in his little studio, he busied himself steadily, but feebly, with a work which proved to be his last. It represented a precipitous cliff, to the brink of which a little child had crept. One tiny hand stretched out over the abyss; and its baby face was turned, with a smile, towards its mother, from whose arms it had evidently just escaped. That playful look was a challenge for her to advance; and she, poor mother! with that deep, dumb despair in her face, saw the heedless innocent just poised upon the brink,-beyond her reach; and knew that if she moved towards it a single step it too would move-to certain death. But with Heaven-taught instinct, she had torn the drapery from her breast, and exposed the sweet fountain of life to her infant. Spite of its peril, you felt it would be saved. The Such was the picture! Day after day, when the artists, his friends, gathered at their customary meals, his poor, pale face was seen among them,-listless, without a smile; and seemingly wistful of the end, when he might retire again to his secluded studio. One day he was missing. second followed; but he came not. third arrived,-still absent. A presentiment of his fate seemed to have infused itself in every mind. They went to his room. There, seated in a chair before his unfinished picture, they found him dead-his pencil in his hand. MUSIC AND SLEEP. The Come then,-A SONG! A winding, gentle song, "LOVE AND CHERISH ONE ANOTHER." CREATION will be incomplete, Never will it reach perfection, While the poor from rich men meet Cold and feelingless rejection. Nature's aim will ne'er be gained, Till each practise with his brother The law by God himself ordained,— "Love and cherish one another!" Heart with heart must join in peace, Envious state must disappear; War and tumult then will cease To rack the human breast with fear: Pride must be dismissed the soul, Man all angry feelings smother; Both in the palace and the cot;— (Oh! obey the general mother,) "Men, the law of Heaven prize,Love and cherish one another!" LUXURIES OF THE SEASON. SNOW-BALLS. F. N. THERE IS, IF WE ERR NOT, a statute (or a clause in a statute), against throwing snowballs. A great tyranny this; albeit the public wrong may have hitherto escaped the indignation of the patriotic. Painful is it for the philanthropic and benevolent mind to reflect upon the misdoings of lawgivers! To consider their ignorance, their persevering waste of golden time, their stubborn, stiffnecked despotism! They, in the hopeless hebetude of what they deem their souls, consider snow as merely a natural substance, ordained to do a certain good to the earth that feeds us; being altogether unmindful of its moral uses. No! Now, snow was made to be rolled into balls: the best instincts of our nature prove it. True it is, that as we grow older we lose somewhat of that ecstatic zest which, in the days of boyhood, made us rejoice in snow-balls. Nevertheless, we cannot wholly subdue the best impulses of our being. Sure we are that all men-at least all not wholly lost to natural promptings-do, in some hilarious moments, feel a strong and almost invincible desire to snow-ball their fellow-creatures.* The impulse may now and then lie dormant; but very sure we are it exists in the large heart of the human kind. In evidence whereof, we refer to the late extraordinary_gambols on the Liverpool Stock Exchange.-ED. K. J. The man who-even at threescore-has not on some cheerful occasion, at some golden moment, yearned to throw a snow-ball, is utterly dead to one of the purest enjoyments of life. Such a man would not pluck a rose, nor gather a peach. The law of the land, however, does not recognise this universal impulse of our being. Nay, it will not even wink at the offence; though often prone to fall fast asleep and snore lustily over greater evils. The law of the land puts a price upon snow-balls, selling them at not less than five shillings a-piece. We believe such to be the statute. We do not pride ourselves upon a very subtle knowledge of the laws, having always considered such knowledge as a very suspicious possession. Many folks study the laws as certain misdoers study the wires of springguns, that they may still do wrong, and yet safely avoid them. We think, however, that Parliament sells snow-balls at five shillings each. One snow-ball for-five shillings. Well; it is dear. But then, Madam Law was ever costly. Otherwise, how could she maintain her swarm of lackeys; her many gentlemen of the chamber; her scores of snoring porters, seated on softest cushions, stuffed with fees? One snow-ball for-five shillings! It is no matter. There are times when, not to enjoy the luxury of the season-be it what it may—is to be dead to the beauties of this beautiful world. We feel our mouth water at the first compassable strawberries. They are dear. We know they are dear. Their costliness gives to them the lusciousness of forbidden fruit-of fruit forbidden to the pocket. And, therefore, shutting our eyes to the expense, we twitch out our purse, and dearly pay for the sweet temptation. Nevertheless, we eat, are filled, and feel no remorse. On the contrary, if our mind be in proper harmony, we feel that, as rational creatures, we have only rendered rightful sacrifice to the genius of the season. may Green peas-asparagus-early potatoes-seem also expressly sent to dally with the heart and pocket of man, and finally to subdue the sneaking economy that commonly lodge within him. The man may be (what the world calls) a "good husband" --a kind father-a respectable friend. Yes; he may be all this, yet if he have not-for the especial delectation of the dear creature at the fireside-sometimes sinned in the face of Plutus, appearing at the conjugal hearth with some unthought-of dainty-green peas, asparagus, or infant potatoes-that man may, indeed, according to all ecclesiastical formula, be a husband. Yes; a church-bound, ironbound husband. Yet, to our mind, does he lack the sweetest grace of conjugal life,-the dignity and heroism of best uxoriousness. If, however, he want not these qualities, then does he sit him down and sup more daintily than Lucullus. He and his wife know the dish is dear,-very dear. They have committed a sin against household economy; but the sin is sweet, and they fall to and fall together. We flatter ourselves that we know something of human nature-quite as much at least as the kitten, who, whilst we sit penning this essay, knows of the movements of the watch, at the chain of which she is jumping. And so knowing, we say we have but little faith in that man who, in all times, and under all temptations, can, with stoic, stony grin pass a lobster-a very dear lobster! His heart may not be of the color of the fish,-new from its native seas; but sure we are it is not of the beautiful red, investing the crustaceous dainty steaming from the cook's pot. No, if his heart be of the right color, the real humanising hue, he willafter some fitful struggle-march boldly up to the counter, like a stout soldier to an enemy's battery; and in a twinkling carry off the prize, the dear-bought trophy. He will carry it to his homestead proudly, exultingly. He will feel that to be sometimes extravagant, is to follow a magnificent impulse-is to act up to one of the unpenned chapters of the Whole Duty of Man. Yes; to be at times a lit-tle prodigal, is the lex non scripta of our moral being. And therefore-seeing the price that is put upon them-do we class snow-balls as Îuxuries; and therefore are we anxious to instruct the world in the proper use of the seasonable dainty. Now,-listen friends! If, at this season, you meet a man who, with crammed larder and bursting cellar at home, will give no crumb, no drop, to the miserable poor around him,-we then say to you, snow ball him! True, the missile will cost you-if detected-five shillings; but think of the season! Should you not enjoy yourself? If there be a cold-hearted cousin who, with turkey and port on table, has sent not even the smallest bit of beef to a poor and fasting relative-snow-ball him! If a landlord, who has torn the last rag from a shivering tenant-by all means snow ball him! If you meet the shining face of outside respectability-the cunning, decorous, wellto-do man, who being well-to-do, does only well to himself, the man whose heart, even others than an addled egg,-pause not, but at this season, has in it no more life towards incontinently snow ball him! And, in fine, if you fall in with any of the hundreds of smirking, easy folks, who think themselves Christians, simply because they they go to church on Sunday, stick holly on their shelves at Christmas, and most religiously eat plum-pudding; think not, pause not, but-vehemently SNOW-BALL THEM! Oh, reader-if, indeed, you are the sort of reader we desire-you have enjoyed the first strawberries of summer, the sweet early pea, the tender potato. Wherefore then should you not taste the luxury of winter? Why not enjoy your snow-ball? Consider this, if it be found out, it is only five shillings! A. B. THE CRYSTAL PALACE, SYDENHAM. MUCH ANXIETY was felt by certain parties about the strength of this building, when the late heavy fall of snow took place. It was feared that it would be quite unequal to sustain the pressure. However, to the surprise of all, it has survived the trial, and is not apparently much injured by the strain. Time will test this. the latter, as one of the earliest ideas for securing great effects within the building, to place at the north end of the nave, the colossal seated figure of the god Rà, with the head of which every visitor of the British Museum is familiar. This figure, which is seventy feet high, and painted in the striking colors which give so peculiar a character to Egyptian art, would have completely extinguished the fine-winged, and humanheaded bulls with which Mr Ferguson guards the main entrance of his Assyrian hall. The question, however, was-what was to be done? A solid pile of masonry, more than thirty feet high had been constructed as the seat of the deity. Mr. Jones, having made up his mind to have him there, was not to be driven from his purpose. The west end of the north transept was, however, offered; and the privilege of erecting there two gods instead of one, with a double row of sphinxes leading up to them, provided the site at the end of the nave was given up. This was too great a temptation to be refused; and, accordingly, when in July (for it is now ascertained that it cannot be earlier) the doors of the Crystal Palace are to be thrown open to the public, next to the building, and the fountains (surpassing in size even Mr. Waterhouse Hawkins's primæval monsters)-the largest objects, and those most likely to fill the minds and eyes of the Londoners with astonishment, will be these two wonderful representations of the scale upon which the sculptors of ancient Egypt wrought out of the rock the objects of their Pagan idolatry. over The glazing not being properly looked to, a considerable quantity of snow and rain found its way into the interior; and portions of the flooring and plaster casts ranged near the garden front were covered with a thick coating of snow. The principal sufferers by the inclemency of the weather were the plants and exotics, which have been arranged in large beds at the southern end of the building; but the influence of the weather told upon more than the plants. The works were necessarily suspended; and palace and park a dreary silence reigned. This was augmented by the snow wrapping every external object. A huge mass of scaffolding still fills up the entire area of the centre transept; and, although a large proportion of the ribs are now up,and the glazing at the west end commenced, some time will elapse before this, the most striking architectural feature of the building, can be completed. The internal decorations, less affected in their progress by the weather, proceed apace. Egypt, Greece, and Rome, are now so far advanted as to speak for themselves; and the decorator is concentrating his chief energies towards the restoration of the Alhambra. Upon the opposite side of the nave, Mr. Wyatt is vigorously at work. The decoration of the Pompeian House is nearly completed; and Mr. Ferguson is making rapid progress with his Assyrian Court, which promises to be not the least successful part of the palace. Both he and Mr. Owen Jones may congratulate themselves upon a new arrangement; the result of a compromise on a disputed point, which may be worth mentioning. It was originally, it seems, proposed by SONG. THE SOWER TO HIS SEEDS. SINK, little seed, in the earth's black mould, What grief make known for loss of the day ; Have faith, little seed-soon yet again So Thou'lt be so fair, With thy green shades so bright, Waving in air. must we sink in the earth's black mould, There must we stay, |