these world-famed pictures. We revelled in the joy of a new discovery, as artist after artist-Berghem, Van der Helst, Holbein, Snyders, Rembrandt, Paul Potter, and Van Dyk-unfolded their treasures in one gorgeous and magnificent procession.

Viâ Leyden and Haarlem, on which I cannot comment, we come to Amsterdam, truly one of the most wonderful cities in Europe. In its strange intermingling of land and water, it may be compared to Venice, though the splendour of its buildings may not equal that of the Sea Cybele. The whole city is founded on piles, and Erasmus on arriving there, once remarked that he had reached a city whose inhabitants, like crows, lived on the tops of trees. But notwithstanding the strength of the foundations, calamity has sometimes overtaken the city, and the enormous corn-houses of the Dutch East India Co., in 1822, sank into the mud with 70,000 cwt. of corn.

The city is one labyrinth of canals and quays, and there are some very fine streets and public buildings. As you walk along, you will observe curious little mirrors (spiegels) fixed at the side of every window, so that the ladies may sit ensconced behind the curtains and "take stock" of all the passers-by without themselves being seen.

Another of the essentials of comfort for a Dutch lady is the Vuur Stoof. It consists of a square box, open on one side to admit an earthen pan filled with hot embers of turf, and with perforations at the top through which the heat ascends and warms the feet. It serves as a footstool and is concealed by the dress. These warming stools are carried by servants to church, and piles of them may be often seen in the aisles.

The Dutch are deprived of many of the pleasures and amenities which we, who live in a beautiful and picturesque country, may enjoy, but they have some very good notions of convenience and comfort.

Another curious incident of Dutch life is the kermis or fair. The servants when hired, always stipulate for a certain number of kermis-days. On these festivals, they swarm in company with their sweethearts; indeed sweethearts are sometimes hired for these occasions, so that the damsels who have not one for love may have him for money.

But we must conclude our sketch, and will do so by a glimpse at the Stadhuis or Royal Palace at Amsterdam. It stands upon 13,659 piles, driven 70 feet into the ground, and was erected by Van Campen in 1648. The treasures of the once celebrated Bank of Amsterdam, which regulated the exchanges of Europe, were kept in its vaults. There are many fine sculptured bas-reliefs adorning the building, and one on the door of the room of the Secretary is a dog watching his dead master, and a figure of Silence with her finger on her lips, as emblems of fidelity and secrecy. The Bankruptcy Court contains a group representing Doedalus and Icarus. This classical representation is evidently in allusion to rash speculations, and its ruinous consequences; and in these days of commercial adventure and scheming, long firms, liquidations by arrangement and compositions with creditors, the old story may perhaps teach some lessons of prudence and foresight.

The Dutch have a large number of charitable institutions, and a great traveller once said that "in all his rambles he had not met with a drunken person in the streets, and had not observed a man, woman, or child in rags." They are also very industrious and thrifty, neat and cleanly in their habits, and simple in their belief and worship.

Every nation has some special characteristics and admirable traits, and excepting those who think that English life is the acme of perfection, I trust some useful hints may have been gleaned from this "Glimpse of Dutch Life." A. T. C.

The Duel.

THE moon looked out from a rifted cloud,

Bright was her face, I ween;

The grass did gleam as her head she bowed,
And the night winds woke and rustled aloud
Among the dewy treen.

The spot was silent where two did meet—
Two mortal foes, I ween;

One dark, one fair, with hurrying feet,
Met face to face with quick hearts' beat,
As they felt their rapiers keen.

The moon was lost in a cloudy sky,
Hid was her face, I ween;

The night was dark, and a lonely cry
On the chilly breezes hurried by,

Passing the trees between.

The moon smoothed off a cloud from her face,
Oh! fair was her face, I ween;

She saw but one in that lonely place,

And a dark red stream of blood did trace

From his side o'er the cool, bright green.

The moon sailed calm through the cloudless air,

Sleeping awhile, I ween;

Like a maiden fair with never a care,

Whose trembling breath o'er her starlit hair

Passes away unseen.

PERSEUS.

A Modern Critique.*

E have received a small fragmentary poem by our talented and rising young poet G. F. Chaucer, Junior, for criticism, and can best describe it as a weird and somewhat mysterious composition. At present there are only two lines and two "&c., &c.s" in existence, but from the grandeur of the conception, and the marvellous skill in execution, we can easily form an idea of the remaining verses when they are sufficiently nurtured in the fanciful imagination of their author. Το give our readers a kinder sorter general idea of our poet's style, we will quote the first (and only) two lines and the &c., &c.s.—

"The King paced up the lonely walk

With awe upon his face, &c., &c."

It will be seen with half an eye that our poet has a lofty imagination, and it is to be hoped his readers will be able to follow him in his flights of fancy. 'Tis a grand and noble, though somewhat saddening theme. By a clever stroke of the pen, which accurately interprets the author's intention, the reader is introduced at once, without hesitation and beating about the bush, to a King—and, mark you-a King with a capital K, thereby surely, yet clearly, showing that he was a great King, and a mighty and rich one, for not only does the King appear upon the scene but also his Capital.

Unfortunately it does not state where the capital or even the kingdom is, but this will doubtless be revealed when the &c., &c.s are more maturely developed. It is also to be observed that the definite article is used, which to our mind satisfactorily shows that there was only one king—at least in those regions and this is of great assistance, as it may (or may not) help readers to fix the locality of this mighty monarch; for even, as already pointed out, if the King is not definite the article decidedly is. Having then reviewed so far, and we trust to the enlightenment and information of the public, and established that a king-we mean the King—is the subject of this fanciful fragment, let us proceed to enquire what was the King's little game. And here the reader is again thrown back on his own resources, and is at full liberty to exercise a most fertile and vivid imagination, if he happens to possess one. If not, we are afraid we cannot throw much light on the subject, and we are

* That honour may be given to whom honour is due, it is but fair to the writer of this ingenious paper to say that, the adoption by him of the editorial "We" is entirely his own act and deed, and that the poem to which he refers has never been submitted to the Editor of the C. L. M.

convinced the poem does not. "Tis left in doubt. A hazy notion may be formed by carefully perusing the first line, which says, the King "paced"—— indicating, we presume, that the monarch was walking on foot, and not riding on horseback, or drawn in a state carriage or triumphal car, but simply "paced." The speed at which the King was pacing, and why he was pacing at all, are shrouded in mystery, and evinces one of those bold and telling passages by which our author has already earned, not only a British but even Continental fame.

However, we may vaguely endeavour to pierce through the cloud of mystery, and ascertain why the King was pacing, or walking on foot, and this we think will best be done by considering where he was pacing, and in which direction.

We peruse with bated breath to the end of the line, and find that the King paced up the lonely walk, which undoubtedly affords an imperfect clue to solving the difficulty, and removing any preconceived opinions. which may have been erroneously formed. And now a flood of light breaks in upon us. It is true the time of day or night (which latter we imagine is nearer the mark) is not mentioned, otherwise we might possibly be able to gather the reason for the pacing. Inasmuch as the pacing was up the walk, we may safely venture to suggest for our readers' guidance that the time was even. or even night, as it may be fairly assumed that in pacing up the walk the King was returning home to his palace (of course, always assuming that there was a palace at the end of the walk).

Here we must pause to pay a graceful tribute to our young poet's fervid imagination. Here by a stroke of the pen, we at once discover how much beloved was this monarch, and with what touching simplicity is the dignity and humility of this much-beloved monarch portrayed. He must have been much beloved, or we had heard of retainers, equipages, pomp, pageantry, and stalwart warriors to act as bodyguard. But no he was alone and unattended-or the poem lies. He was also a king whom humility dignified, for had he not been so, we should most certainly have expected to find that instead of pacing up the lonely walk, the King's High-way had been vividly described-but for such we search in vain. The mere mention of the lonely walk, however, detracts, to a slight extent, from our high opinion of this monarch's dominions; for the guarded selection of the definite article again would indicate that there was but one walk in the whole Kingdom, and that even that one was lonely. On the other hand it may be, perchance, that we have mistaken our author's meaning. Mayhap, there were numerous roads and walks containing the mansions and residences of all classes of this monarch's loyal and thriving subjects, and that this particular walk was the only one that was not so built up. However this may be, we offer no opinion, but merely throw out the suggestion for those who may be anxious to penetrate into the at present undisclosed geography of this kingdom, and so give it "a local habitation and a name;" for although, as a rule, we profess to be infallible when sitting in the critic's chair, we candidly admit the whereabouts of this undescribed region (?) surpasses our

comprehension. To resume and proceed to the next line which runs in beautiful and softly rhythm, " With awe upon his face." Again we are landed in the obscure-a sublimity in the general-a pointedness in the particular for although we should naturally expect to find awe to be depicted upon the regal countenance if the feeling exists anywhere, we do not quite see why it should be depicted at all!

Of course it is upon his face, and there we should look to ascertain the workings of the stupendous mind. Surely, when our young poet directs such particular attention to the facial expression, he did not dream anyone in his natural and ordinary senses would regard the regal jacket or other indescribable garments with a view to discovering the state of His Majesty's mind. Until we came across this poem containing this stumbling-block in the awe line of business, it had hitherto been our proud boast and conceit, that if we understood anything perfectly we understood our mother tongue; but alas for our peace of mind! how are the mighty fallen! and we can but meekly pursue the thread of our enquiry, Why, Oh! Why was awe upon his face? Does our poet mean that the King (of whom we thought so much until this line) was stricken with "reverential FEAR"-which we take to be the literal and real meaning of "awe," or that he himself was awe inspiring to all beholders. In the former case we are bound logically to enquire, Why was awe upon his face? Peradventure the King had seen a ghost. But no, this could not have been the cause for "awe," for have we not already seen that he "paced" up the walk?. Had there been a ghost, or anything resembling one in the question-with our unbounded knowledge of and confidence in, human nature--and even kings are human— we may venture to predict that his most Gracious Majesty would have been pleased to have adopted some other mode of locomotion than simply pacing unless indeed it had been at “a d*v*l of a pace.”

We would suggest-although in slightly unpoetical terms-that he would have rapidly "bolted,' 'skeddadled,' or otherwise have made himself scarce.' It could not then have been a ghost that frightened this royal gentleman.

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Peradventure, His Majesty had been dining out late, had forgotten to take his latch-key with him, and His Royal Consort was waiting up for him, ready, aye, and willing to give him a piece of her mind. If this be not the reason for the aweness upon his face, inasmuch as the poem discloses not, we cannot divine the cause, but must content ourselves by saying it must be buried deep within the recesses of one or other of the two "&c., &c.s" with which this fragment terminates, and may probably be divulged as the work unfolds.

And now our task, which has really been a pleasure, is finished, or will be when we have pointed out the masterly mind and hand which abruptly and ruggedly concludes a glorious poem by a couple of "&c.s." How much is thus left to the imagination of the reader to discover the latent though obscure meaning of so simple and comprehensive a word; for truly doth it not cover everything that the poet may have omitted from any cause whatever, whether intentionally or, which is more