exotic plants of the rarest description breathed out odours the most pleasing, and spent their vegetable lives amid the music of a thousand fountains and the murmur of countless rivulets. It contained a grotto of the most rare device, in which, at the visitor's pleasure, there fell down showers of artificial rain, which, we may add, often wetted him through against that will. Water in this place put on the character of Proteus: it was now jetting up in a full round bore, and, dashing against the roof of the grot, came tumbling down in millions of sparkles; now it was streaming out into an elegant vase, brilliant, liquid, inconstant; and now it flew into the form of a great convolvulus, or radiated away into an aster. If we may take the good gossip's word for it, and we are fully disposed to do so, nothing but what was magnificent was to be seen in that paradise.' The gardens of the Vatican, at the same period, were laid out and ornamented, and be-whimsied to an extent even surpassing their Borghese rival. They abounded in curious fountains, many of which tossed their water to the clouds. There were also wonderful grottos of the most artificial' construction, and mimic lakes adorned the scene, on which floated diminutive men of war; and there also three bees poured from copper trunks three jets of water, under which was written some very witty Latin.

An estimate of the splendour of the Horti Matthæi may be obtained from the circumstance, that, on pain of forfeiture of the inheritance, an annual outlay of not less than six thousand crowns was necessary to be expended on them. The gardens of Frascati were of wide celebrity in the centre rose a hill covered with wood, and naturally carved into such a fantastic outline, as if it had been a work of art. From its summit fell a cascade, which precipitated itself into a noble theatre of water, and as it fell, shone with an iridescence, when gleaming in the sunshine, which might vie even with the rainbow. Here was nature. But under the falling waters there was a grotto upon which vast sums must have been spent; and in it was a variety of instruments, played by the unwilling waters of the cascade. There were hydraulic organs; grumbling, uncomfortable, out-of-breath contrivances, now bellowing away might and main, then, as the air-chest got hydrothoracised, sighing out some indistinct notes of nobody knew what; while a spasmodic Cupid, as leader of the band, would twitch his arms and baton in a distressing irregularity of time; and three Titans at the farther end pound with wooden hammers a sham bit of iron on a sham anvil of deal; and a dance of skeletons enliven with their monotonous gyrations the background of the apparatus. Besides these, there was a monster to frighten ladies and little children, by roaring through a terrific horn; and finally, the representation of a storm, with such a fury of wind, rain, and tempest, as one would imagine the elements might themselves envy.

Every one has heard tell of the famous garden of Tivoli. It seems to have been an exquisite place, and it cost altogether nearly a million. It was crowded with innumerable statues, and abounded in stately fountains. One long and broad walk was full of jets d'eau, and each fountain represented one of Ovid's metamorphoses. Its principal lion was a large model of the imperial city, when she sat a queen' over the kingdoms of the earth. It represented all her amphitheatres, shows, temples, aqueducts, arches, and streets; and through it wandered a little rivulet, the representative of old Tiber, which gushed out of an urn held by a statue of the god. Farther on, a fountain of dragons roared out water; and a grotto, by a strange misnomer called the Grotto di Natura, resounded with the melodious wind and water strains of a large hydraulic organ. The great Cardinal Richelieu had also expended an enormous sum in embellishing the gardens attached to his palace at Ruelle. These splendid gardens contained a piece of real nature in the midst of them, consisting of a corn-field, vineyards, neadows, and groves, which bare corn, and yielded grapes, and

grew grass and leaves, the same as an ordinary farm. Here reaping, and harvesting, and every agricultural occupation were served up for the cardinal's amusement But he was a great water wit also. In one of the walks was a basilisk of copper, near which some practical joker of a fountaineer was sure to be placed; and as the visitor was wondering at the metallic monster, he would be suddenly saluted with a powerful jet of water from its mouth; and if he fled, the wily basilisk would set to revolving rapidly, and shooting out its water to an inmense distance, so that it was a certain thing for him to get drenched to the skin. At the end of another walk was an admirable view of Constantine's arch, painted in oil upon the wall, with the clear blue sky appearing so faithfully, that birds were frequently found dead at its foot, having dashed against the wall in the attempt to fly through it. Artificial cascades filled the air with glittering spray, and sheets of water like glass gleamed in the summer's sun. There was a grotto here too, and this was a grotto such as nature never beheld. In the midst of it was a marble table, all round which a sort of water banquet was displayed, various jets continually playing in the form of crystal goblets, glasses, crosses, flowers, and crowns. The roof showered down an everlasting rain; and in emerging from this place of wonders, two sharp-shooting musqueteers took a generally successful aim at the visitor with their watercharges.

The Dutch gardens were mathematical whimsicalities. Triangles of orange-trees, ellipses of water, rhomboids of parterres, and parallel lines of groves, were the delight and glory of this taste. The very fountains partook of the same square-set character, and played with a sober steadiness altogether unlike the gambols in which that element generally wantons. The garden of St Germain was famous for its subterraneous artificial caverns, where scenes of various kinds were performed by the force of water. Here were mills revolving, men fishing, birds chirrupping, and sundry other devices of curious sort, especially an Orpheus, surrounded by dancing animals. The celebrated gardens of Versailles contained, besides numerous other remarkables, a series of fountains which represented Esop's fables. The animals were all of brass, and painted in their proper colours, and cast forth water, in different forms, out of their mouths. The fox and the crane were thus personated: upon a rock stood a fox, lapping something from a flat gilded dish; while the unhappy crane, whose length of bill offered a serious obstacle to its joining in the feast, spouted water up into the air by way of complaint. There were altogether thirty-nine such follies, occupying different walks. These gardens cost two hundred millions of francs, and altogether cover two hundred acres of ground. M. Girardin, who expended a fortune on his gardens, added to their attractions that of a little patch, desolate and neglected, which he called his 'garden in ruins.' He was very vain of the 'points' about his grounds; and to call proper attention to them, used to employ a band of music to wander from spot to spot, so that the eyes of visitors might be drawn in succession to the different lions of the place. In the ducal gardens at Gotha,' says the Quarterly, 'is a ruined castle, which was built complete, and then ruined exprès by a few rounds of artillery!'

At home, another sort of oddity disfigured our gardens. This was called the Topiary Art. Under the hands of Loudon and Wise, our evergreens underwent metamorphoses more wonderful than Ovid's. It was said they left the marks of their scissors on every plant and bush. The ingenious Dr Plot, in his Natural History of Oxfordshire, expresses himself in warm terms of admiration upon these feats of the primary shears. At Hampton Court were some remarkable animals and castles cut in box, and a mighty wren's nest, which was sufficiently capacious to receive a man on a seat inside. Box-trees were often cut into sun-dials and coats-ofarms, and now and then some venerable mansion gloried in a couple of giant guards, 'clothed in living green,"

which kept up a perpetual watch near the gates, looking as natural as branches and leaves could well look. Listen to Horace Walpole. The venerable oak, the romantic beech, the useful elm, even the aspiring circuit of the lime, the regular round of the chestnut, and the almost perfectly-moulded orange-tree, were corrected by such fantastic admirers of symmetry. The compass and square were of more use in plantations than the nurseryman. Many French groves seem green chests set upon poles.' Giants, animals, and monsters of horrible grotesqueness, were the pride of the day; and the Gog and Magog, which may still be seen in some of our suburban citizens' gardens, are but faint and feeble outlines of the colossal stature and ferocious features of their boxen and yew-tree ancestors. We had our waterjokers in England too. At Euston, in Oxfordshire, in the gardens of a certain worshipful gentleman, were the most artistic water ingenuities it has been our lot to meet a description of as existing in this country. They even drew down the marked approbation of royalty itself. On approaching the spot, a venerable hermit rose from the ground, and after entertaining one with a neat and appropriate' speech, sank down again like a Jack-in-abox. There was a small rocky island in the midst of a lake, which was full of watery tricks. The visitor was politely requested to walk up and view this spot; and after satisfying his curiosity, and proceeding to walk down again, the fountaineer would bob down, turn a cock, and send, we dare not say how many, jets d'eau flying on all sides of the victim, one stream having for its object his legs, another his loins, and another his head. After this funny reception, he was conducted to look at a spaniel hunting a duck, by the force of water the automata diving and pursuing each other by turns. Beyond was the grotto; a hedge of sparkling jets of water rose from the ground to guard it, mimic cascades foamed down in tiny cataracts, and countless streams shot up, and appeared to lose themselves by being caught in their return, and not suffered to fall down again. Here, too, a nightingale discoursed very liquid music, and arched jets of water played with one another, and now and then with the visitor, all hope of egress being destroyed by the sudden pouring down of a heavy rain in the doorway. The sport which this caused was thought to be well worth the wetting. Probably the magnificent gardens at Chatsworth are the only places where anything at all similar to the above is now to be found. There are some practical wet jokes even here; and country bumpkins, in their native innocence, may be found willing to pay a visit to the weeping tree. The visit is never repeated.

After a while we are growing out of these whimsies, and a purer taste is diffusing itself over our pleasuregrounds; but to this hour the Chinese are even more full of them than were we, or any other nation, at our worst. Macartney says, 'it is the excellence of a Chinese gardener to conquer nature,' and it must be confessed it is an excellence which is pretty common in China, for by no stretch of the imagination can nature be recognised, excepting in her productions in their gardens. The Chinese emperor's pleasure-garden contained, it is said, two hundred palaces, and was on a scale of great magnificence. Artificial rocks rose up out of flat plains; canals and serpentising bridges enlivened the scene; and here the emperor played at agriculture and commerce. A small corn-field was reaped and carried home right under his celestial eyes; and as an amusement for him within doors, shops were erected, and business done as in the city, with all its minutiæ, especially with the tricks of trade. Practical jokes are still in great vogue, and the walks are broken of purpose into holes and foot-traps, the fun being to get into them and get out again with limping, if not broken limbs. Nice, tempting, green, grassy little plots intersect some of them, on which, if the visitor plant his foot, he sinks to his middle in a bog. In these cases, however, the fun must not unfrequently become rather serious.

We might go on almost ad infinitum on this inexhaustible subject: we prefer to stop. Our object has been to expose the puerilities with which the childish taste of men has dishonoured what Lord Bacon declared to be the purest of all human pleasures.' At no time do the most exquisite works of man endure a comparison with those of his Maker-how much less so when it is a few childish toys, with their babbling and squirting absurdities, which are unnaturally united with the exquisite scenery and chaste creations which have proceeded from His hands!

MUSIC IN SWEDEN.

Ar a time when the sceptre of music is so gracefully swayed by a native of Sweden, it may not be unin teresting to our readers to receive a slight sketch of the early progress of that science in a country which has given birth to Jenny Lind-to her who possesses not only the rare and wondrous power of fascinating all ages and all classes in this unimaginative country, from the prince to the peasant-from the gray-haired man to the youthful stripling-but whose unobtrusive virtues have likewise commanded the respect and admiration of all those who know how to appreciate the difficulty of her position.

Apart from her glorious gift of song, and her great dramatic talent, Jenny Lind is a remarkable person, uniting, as she does, the naïve innocence of childhood and the gentle tenderness of woman, to that firmness and intelligence which are more peculiarly characteristic of another sex. But she is worthy of being praised by nobler and more gifted pens than ours; so having yielded our passing homage to the queen of song, we return to the proposed sketch of the early history of music in her native country, Sweden. And truly we have to tell of no lordly bower, wherein the bard was welcomed with reverence and love- High placed in hall, a welcome guest,' whose stirring strains impelled each listening knight to deeds of valour and renown; neither have we to speak of those lighter measures which wake up the joyous feelings of youth to the festive dance; for the ancient Swedes had, with regard to their amusements, some singular laws and customs peculiar to themselves. Amongst all the other nations of the earth--whether breathing the soft sunny air of the south, or living in the hardier atmosphere of our northern latitudes-dancing has ever been a favourite pastime; but the Swedes had no knowledge of this peaceful art, because their legislators had, from some mistaken conception, forbidden the indulgence of music, and had even branded musicians as infamous persons, and as being dangerous to the state. Even at so late a period as the beginning of the sixteenth century, a law was enacted banishing all musicians from the kingdom, and allowing of their being slain in what place soever they might be found. It is true that a nominal penalty was attached to this destruction of human life; but it was so slight a one, as to deserve the sarcastic observation of Archenholz, in his Life of Gustavus Vasa (vol. i. p. 113), wherein he says that the murder of a musician seemed to be regarded in Sweden rather as a joke than a crime. The only penalty imposed on the slayer was the obligation to bestow upon the heir of the murdered man a pair of new shoes, a pair of gloves, and a three-year-old calf. Even this poor indemnity, conceded oftentimes as the price of a father's or a brother's life, proved in general to be a mere mockery through the conditions attached to the gift; for the heir lost his right to it unless he submitted to a ceremony, which, in its absurd and humiliating accompaniments, was worthy of that barbarous period.

The calf's tail was anointed with grease, and the animal having been led to the top of a hill, its slippery tail was placed in the inheritor's hand. The murderer then seizing a heavy bludgeon, dealt some furious blows upon the creature's back, impelling it to flight; and if the injured person could retain his hold, the beast became his

such occasions.

property. If, on the contrary, the tail escaped out of his hands, he lost his right to it, and became the laughing-stock of the crowd who were wont to assemble on These barbarous customs continued until the middle of the sixteenth century, when Gustavus Vasa, resolving to abolish laws which would have been ludicrous but for their ferocity, summoned to his court several foreign musicians, and at the same time introduced into Sweden the art of dancing, hitherto unknown there.

orchestra.

By way of marking more effectually his royal approbation of the heretofore proscribed arts of music and dancing, Gustavus was wont, at the close of almost every evening, to lead the dance in his palace halls, being accompanied the while by the music of the royal The art of music is now regarded in Sweden as an important part of education, and especially amongst females; and its professors are held in such high estimation, that they are received with distinguished cour tesy in the highest circles of society. Nor is this predilection for music confined only to the more educated classes of the people; for on every occasion of social festivity the voice of song is heard among the peasantry, and their national ballads, so long proscribed by an ill-conceived policy, still live in the hearts of the people, and are remarkable for their simple pathos and beauty.

Among the mountains of Sweden a peculiar kind of trumpet, made of the bark of boxwood, is used by the shepherds, who call it mir. This instrument is about four feet in length; and although its blast is so powerful as to scare away the wild beasts, yet its tones, as they echo across the mountain lochs of that singular region, are by no means unpleasing to the ear.

Hitherto the Swedes, in spite of their taste for music, have not (with one brilliant exception) evinced much genius for this fascinating science; and in the Stockholm theatre, French and Italian compositions are those which are most in vogue. This capital has, however, an academy of music, founded in 1772 by Gustavus III.

A MESSAGE FROM THE MISSISSIPPI. An emigrant is no sooner settled in his new quarters,

than he becomes as anxious as Vanderdecken himself

to send a message home. It is usually a message of invitation. He describes his promised land as it appeared to him before his arrival, and thus claims credit from his friends for the judgment and sagacity he has exhibited in his choice. No one likes to own himself in the wrong. He conceals the fact even from himself; and if the emigrant does not all at once find himself in smooth water, why, this was only to be expected. It is a fine country, anything grows in it; and if people will only bring means, industry, knowledge, and patience into the field, they will come in time to live like princes, and die patriarchs. His correspondent at home in the meantime does his part: he disseminates the Message far and near; and in his own circle at least it tells to purpose. One might reasonably doubt a newspaper, whose writers have no substance, shape, or name; but when the message in question comes from our own, or a neighbour's acquaintance-in fact, from that John Smith whom we all know, or have heard of, we should be infidels indeed to disbelieve.

Emigrants, generally speaking, have no intention to mislead; and yet it so happens that the worst fields have always had their eulogists as well as the best. For our part, who have watched with the utmost attention the progress of emigration, we confess frankly that we now dread giving an opinion upon the subject at all. Every post brings us letters requesting our advice as

to the choice of a new home; and to every letter our answer is the same, that, under existing circumstances, we cannot take the responsibility of influencing so fateful a step. We are glad, notwithstanding, to make public from time to time such matters of information, as may come in our way; and in the present paper we lend our aid in disseminating a Message from the Mis- ! sissippi, which contains some practical details, and enough, besides, to show that the writer is not entirely blinded by his preconceived notions.

Our emigrant found himself in the first place at New Orleans, and in some employment, which is not described, when he was attacked by dysentery, and in six or seven days reduced to the brink of the grave. This disease, it appears, is very prevalent in the whole valley of the Mississippi; in which, we may remark, is comprehended the valleys of the Ohio, Illinois, and other feeders, and generally the country called the West. In temperate latitudes it is rarely fatal; but in the burning climate of the south, it is as deadly as the yellow fever, and more painful to the victim. The sufferer in question could not walk without support; and finding the idea disagreeable of dying in a bed at New Orleans, the net curtains of which were surrounded day and night by a full band of mosquitoes, he suddenly determined upon going west.'

'Going west' at home, with reference to a journey, may mean going from Edinburgh to Glasgow, or from London to Bristol; but in America the expression appears to apply exclusively to that part of the country which lies to the west of the eastern coast, but north of New Orleans. The particular part of the West fixed upon by our invalid was Cincinnati-a distance of some sixteen hundred miles; the voyage to which occupies from six to fourteen days, according to the swiftness of the steamer, and costs from ten to fifteen dollars in the cabin, including an abundant table. This, however, is barring accidents,' as our traveller found to his cost.

The morning after they left New Orleans, being the 21st of June last, while bowling gaily along, about three hundred yards from the shore, they felt the vessel bump against something in the river. A party of that it was as hard a lick as they had given the enemy volunteers from Mexico, who were on board, remarked at Monterey; but while all were enjoying the joke, a heavy lurch stilled their laughter, and presently a voice shrieked that the ship was sinking. And so indeed it proved; for she had struck upon a snag, and our invalid, who had before been hardly able to crawl along the deck, starting up with the energy of mortal terror, had little more than time to buffet his way through the struggling crowd, and throw himself overboard, when hind almost his whole baggage-and his dysentery. In she went down. He swam to the shore, leaving befact, the hydropathic treatment (assisted, no doubt, by the fright) cured him of his disorder. From that moment he began to improve rapidly, and he pursued his way to Cincinnati a poorer and a healthier man than before his embarkation.

He made his way to Baton Rouge, a small town situated on the first rising ground up the river from New Orleans; and there waited two days, with the heat at 93 degrees in the shade, till the arrival of an upwardbound steamer, in which he embarked. Five dollars of his passage money were returned by the owners of the lost vessel, and ten dollars charged by the new conveyance; so that, upon the whole, his trip cost him twenty dollars instead of fifteen. But he wisely balanced this by his renovated health, and pursued his journey in good spirits.

interesting only from the extreme beauty of the foliage, The lower part of the Mississippi our emigrant found with which the country on either side of the river was covered. The soil appeared to be nearly a continued swamp, the pestilential vapours of which rendered the

clearings of comparatively rare occurrence.

The tide of population was flowing past this abode of death; and at a distance of one thousand miles from New Orleans, turned up into the Ohio, to seek the wholesome breezes of the north. Our traveller is enthusiastic in his praise of the scenery of this great feeder of the Mississippi; which is thus characterised by a more eloquent pen than his The shores of the Ohio do not anywhere present that savage grandeur which often characterises our larger streams. No tall cliffs, no bare peaks, nor sterile mountains, impress a sentiment of dreariness on the mind. The hills are high, but gracefully curved, and everywhere clothed with verdure. There is a loneliness arising from the absence of population, a wildness in the variegated hues of the forest, and in the notes of the feathered tribes; but the traveller feels none of that depression which results from a consciousness of entire insulation from his species, none of that awe which is inspired by those terrific outlines that display the convulsions of nature, or threaten the existence of the beholder. It is impossible to gaze on the fertile hills and rich bottoms that extend on either side, without fancying them peopled; and even where no signs of population appear, the imagination is continually reaching forward to the period when these luxuriant spots shall maintain their millions.

'Approaching towards Cincinnati, the scenery becomes more monotonous. The hills recede from the river, and are less elevated. The bottom lands begin to spread out from the margin of the water. Heavy forests cover the banks, and limit the prospect. But the woodland is arrayed in a splendour of beauty, which renders it the chief object of attraction. Nothing can be more beautiful than the first appearance of the vegetation in the spring, when the woods are seen rapidly discarding the dark and dusky habiliments of winter, and assuming their vernal robes. The gum-tree is clad in the richest green; the dogwood and red-bud are laden with flowers of the purest white and deepest scarlet; the buckeye bends under the weight of its exuberant blossoms. The oak, the elm, the walnut, the sycamore, the beech, the hickory, and the maple, which here tower to a great height, have yielded to the sunbeams, and display their bursting buds and expanding flowers. The tulip-tree waves its long branches, and its yellow flowers high in the air. The wild rose, the sweetbrier, and the vine, are shooting into verdure; and clinging to their sturdy neighbours, modestly prefer their claims to admiration, while they afford delightful promise of fruit and fragrance.'*

The emigrant found Cincinnati a very healthy and thriving city, with some splendid buildings; but, like all other American cities he had seen, not to be compared with places of the same size in England. You will observe,' he says, 'alongside of as good a dwelling as can be put up, one made of timber in genuine backwood style, and occupied perhaps by one of O'Connell's peasantry, who thinks that all human felicity consists in filth and pigs.' Pigs and cattle, indeed, appear from his description to be the masters of the place, and must continue to be so, so long as the ruling passion of the citizens is the love of dollars and popularity.' A towncouncilman may desire to introduce plans for clearing the streets, and bringing their four-footed promenaders under some control: but what effect would this have on his chances of re-election ? That is the respect which gives him pause, and makes Cincinnati a filthy and pig-ridden town.

Another trifling inconvenience at Cincinnati is the custom of the sovereign people righting their wrongs with the gun and the knife. New Orleans and Galveston are reckoned the headquarters of the duellists: but the emigrant, while at the former place, did not hear of more than some half-dozen fatal rencounters; whereas during his nine weeks' sojourn at Cincinnati a score of such murders occurred.

*Judge Hall's Notes on the Western States.

'If Bessy was here,' says he-Who is Bessy? We cannot tell: but this would be the routine of her employment. She must get up at five o'clock in the morning, for by this time the whole population (with the exception, we presume, of some of the gentlefolks) is astir, and taking her basket on her arm, go out to cater for the day. In the market streets she will find country wagons ranged in interminable lines, with fruit and vegetables of all kinds, said by travellers to be among the finest in the world, displayed on their tail-boards; some of them having come to the town from a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. In three different market-houses she will have an opportunity of selecting meat, poultry, cheese, and other matters for the daily consumption, for the market is held here every day; for which she will have to expend but little money-the price of pork being only 2d., mutton 2d., and beef 4d. per lb.; and she may send home a barrel of flour of 220 lbs. for 18s. 9d., or about a penny a pound. Tea she will buy at 2s., coffee at 44d., and the best sugar at 4d. a pound. But all this is not done without a struggle; for the crowd is great, and the shoving and pushing of men, women, dogs, pigs, and cattle far from polite. Bessy will think to herself what sort of figure Miss Wilhelmina Scroggins of her town would make in the medley; and as she lugs her now heavy basket through the thick of the press, she will smile at the idea her imagination conjures up. And this smile, we will venture to say, will do more for her than all her struggles; for the pale American will soften as he looks at the rosy cheeks she has imported from the other side of the ocean; the lean, lanky, lengthy down-easter will shuffle awkwardly out of her way; and the short, chubby Dutchwoman, reflecting the good-humour in her own round face, will draw in her breath to let her pass.

When at length she gets home, she must tuck up her sleeves and set to work with a will, in order to have breakfast ready for the household by half-past six o'clock exactly, as the men commence their work at seven. At this meal 'everything that man need desire' is placed upon the table; and the same exhibition is repeated at twelve o'clock for dinner, and at half-past six or seven o'clock for supper. The wages which furnish this abundant housekeeping are good, considering the cheapness of provisions; mechanics receiving from seven to twelve dollars, according to trade and proficiency; and some old hands as much as fifteen dollars. House rent, however, is comparatively high, and the business therefore of house-building is a good one.

With a little capital, however, it is our emigrant's opinion-and this, in fact, is the burden of his Message -that great profits may be made in many ways, and with but little exertion. Good land, he tells us, sells for twenty dollars an acre; and a 'splendid country' it is; where the grape grows well, and pays handsomely for its cultivation. It was his intention, however, to go by and by into the neighbouring state of Indiana, or else Illinois; where, he says, the purchase of a farm will not cost him more than a year's rent of one in England! He could buy a good horse for twenty dollars, a cow and calf for eight dollars, a sheep for threefourths of a dollar, and a capital pig for almost nothing.'

In Indiana, the Indian reserve, it appears, is now in the market, of which the government price is only one and a quarter dollar per acre. But the drawback is, that the land is so heavily timbered, that a farmer could do nothing single-handed, and labour in that country is, as we have seen, very costly. Our emigrant, therefore, proposes that his brother shall join him, asserting that they could purchase one hundred and sixty acres of land for two hundred dollars, run up a log hut for twenty-five more, and be at once independent. While eulogising, however, the comfortable position of the farmers, he makes it clearly understood that its indispensable condition is ceaseless industry Every man

TASTES OF THE GUARDSMEN IN
LITERATURE.

A CURIOUS document has come into our hands, a manuscript list of the books forming a library for the use of the privates of one of the household regiments, with marks made at the particular works which are the most popular with the men.' The selection, we may remark, is much better in this case than it appeared to us to be in a regimental catalogue which we perused some time ago, and which, we were told, was of general application. In that case a vast number of the books appeared unsuitable to a singular degree. In this instance, where, we understand, a special care was exercised by one of the officers, the selection, though not incapable, we humbly think, of improvement, is on the whole good. With regard to the preferences shown by the men for particular books, it occurs to us that to learn what these are may serve not merely to gratify curiosity, but to guide others in making selections of books for persons of limited education. We therefore shall indicate them, as far as can conveniently be done in these columns.

Of books of history the catalogue contains twenty-five. Here we find the favourites are-Brenton's Naval History, The Wellington Despatches, Voltaire's Charles XII., The Siege of Gibraltar, Hume and Smollett's History of England, and Thiers's Revolution. On Gibbon, Plutarch, Josephus, Knight's London, Chambers's History of the Rebellion of 1745, The Pictorial History of England, &c. no remark is made. In biography, Scott's Napoleon, Clarke's Life of Wellington, The Buccaneers, Mackenzie's Naval Biography, Peter the Great, and Theobald Wolfe Tone, are marked with approbation; while Cromwell, Watt, Columbus, Exmouth, Hardy Vaux, Vidocq, Madame du Barri, Benvenuto Cellini, Kotzebue, &c. are to be understood as comparatively neglected. There are fifteen religious books, four of which are in esteem amongst the Guards-The Pilgrim's Progress (where is it not a favourite?), Hervey's Meditations, The Holy War, and Watt's Sermons. We are to suppose that less regard is paid to Williams's Missionary Enterprises, Paley's Evidences, Abbot's Young Christian, Richmond's Annals of the Poor, The Guide to Heaven, Religious Life, &c. The poetical department is very limited, only six books-Shakspeare, Dr Aikin's Selections, Milton, Southey, Scott, and Byron; whereof only Southey and

Scott are unmarked. Then follow the novels and remances, which may be said to form the bulk of the library, as was perhaps to be expected, however much it may be regretted. The marks of admiration are thick sown over this class: Scott, Bulwer, Dickens, are favourites, as a matter of course (Martin Chuzzlewit an exception, in the last instance); so are Mr Gleig and Captain Marryatt, as was also, in some degree, to be expected. But one is surprised a little to find James more in favour than Cooper. Galt has no marks; neither, as a general rule, have any of the older novelists, as Smollett and Sterne. The rollicking humours of Mr Lever are in good esteem; so are the exciting marvels of Eugene Sue; not so the quiet pleasantries of Washington Irving. We next come to voyages and travels, where, out of twelve books, but one is in favour-The Modern Traveller (a sort of essence of books of travels), in thirty-four vo lumes, by Josiah Condor. Then comes 'Philosophy,' limited to eleven books, whereof Combe's Phrenology and Constitution of Man, Lectures on Astronomy, Divine Dialogues, The Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties, and Bingley's Useful Knowledge, are distinguished as popular. Amongst a final class of Miscel laneous'-The Penny and Saturday Magazines, Chambers's Journal and Information for the People, The Tales of the Borders, The London Journal, and Bentley's and Ainsworth's Magazines, are in repute; while Hone's Year-Book, The Rambler, and even The Military Bijou, are undistinguished.

We cannot conclude without expressing the pleasure we feel in reflecting that the intellectual and moral condition of the poor soldier is now a matter of concern and regard to his superiors, and that even under arrangements which cannot be considered as complete, he in what will advance him in intelligence and as a rehas at his command a means of spending his spare time sponsible being, instead of being condemned, as formerly, to the idle promenade, the corrupting street, or the debauching public-house. We would, however, strongly press upon the officers the necessity of seeing carefully after the selection of the books for the regimental libraries. Many in the catalogues we have seen might as well not have been there, while many acceptable and instructive books are wanting.*

THE BACHELOR OF THE ALBANY. IT can hardly be supposed that the popular works of fiction of the present day are destined to occupy a permanent place in our national literature. Romance, considered as an art, arose by slow degrees to the elevation it assumed under Scott; but no sooner had the grave closed over that great master, than his legitimate way gave place to the wildest anarchy. It was no longer sufficient to be natural. Virtue and vice were no longer considered as conditions arising out of circumstances, but as independent qualities turned loose upon the world, like Harlequin and Pantaloon, to tumble their way through all sorts of impossibilities. Education, position, example, were of no consequence: the most sensitive delicacy, the most heroic goodness, were found flourishing in the very sinks of infamy. Its offspring under the new régime was generosity and Poverty, nay, want itself, had lost its chilling influence. high-mindedness; while, by the same rule of contrary. meanness and rascality were the sure concomitants of wealth and station.

Anything that promises to bring fiction back to a more healthy tone must be considered interesting, if not important; and, invested with this extrinsic dignity, a volume just now arrests our attention in a way which its own merits would hardly account for. The 'Bachelor of the Albany,' by some miracle or other, has escaped the epidemic fever; and though not particn

*A list of popular books, of which there are cheap editions, was 73, new series. given, with prices and names of publishers, in this Journal, No.