for, in whom, also, Mr. Tennyson became much interested, finding him converse in private with an intelligence not less remarkable than his acting showed in public. In the end, Mr. Tennyson proposed to send the MS. of his drama, when completed, to Mr. Irving for his opinion on its suitableness for representation on the stage, asking Mr. Irving to suggest such omissions as he thought necessary, or other alterations. This was done, and it was done in a way creditable to both Mr. Irving and Mr. Tennyson. Mr. Irving is a conscientious as well as cultured artist, with a knowledge of dramatic literature not common on the stage or off it, and understands perfectly the practical requirements of the stage. Anybody could see that the length of the poem was far too great for actual performance. Mr. Tennyson was aware of it; possibly he was not aware how much would need to be cut out. Mr. Irving did his work thoroughly-so thoroughly that I hear the MS. was rather a spectacle when it came back into Mr. Tennyson's hands, who, nevertheless, took it all in good part, and accepted his revision as the basis of its dramatic representation. Then came consultations between Mrs. Bateman, now sole lessee and manager of the Lyceum, and Mr. Tennyson. Visits were paid to the poet at Freshwater, in the Isle of Wight. The business arrangements were settled amicably, and on terms which secure a very liberal remuneration to the author if the play succeeds, while protecting the manager against loss should 'Queen Mary,' by possibility, fail to draw. Mrs. Bateman has become the owner of the exclusive right to perform Mr. Tennyson's drama during five years, both in England and America. pays the author a fixed sum per night for each representation-nothing when not performed, nor any lump sum for the whole right secured."

She

The

M. AUGUSTE LAUGEE has just published in Paris a collection of biographical essays, entitled "Grand Historical Figures." subjects chosen to represent political philosophy are William of Orange, John of Barneveldt, Josiah Quincy, and Charles Sumner. . . . "Ac

French literature, but incapable of its distinctive merits. What the French chronicler of vice paints with a few master-touches, Quida stipples up with tiresome elaboration; and her attempts at mental analysis are generally failures. Her forte lies in description, which she overdoes, and in situation, which is sure to be vicious and unnatural, however strong. If her books were easy and pleasant reading, they would be extremely objectionable, but tediousness is a great, redeeming virtue." The Athenæum has discovered that one of the most popular, and often disastrous, forms of speculation in the United States is that of starting newspapers.

A French transla

tion of Poe's "Raven," by Stéphane Mallarmé, with original illustrations by Edouard Manet, has just been published by Richard Lesclide in Paris, in folio form. The English verses are placed side by side with the translation, and the illustrations are said to be of a highlyfantastic character. . . . The Athenæum thinks Mr. Frank Lee Benedict a แ smart " writer, but does not like his last novel, "St. Simon's Niece." "An atmosphere of tobacco-smoke from cigarettes smoked by feminines," it says, "of champagne and absinthe, palls a little; and we think our author is rather too fond of sailing near the wind. Mr. Benedict's craving for touches of impropriety is probably incurable, and his style certainly does not show much promise. At the same time his book is not dull; we have burstings of bubble companies and railway-accidents, and comparatively few lurid sunsets and flashings of liquid eyes.

If he could correct faults which we fear are incorrigible, he might yet write a tolerable novel." . . . Mrs. Arthur Arnold has nearly completed her translation of Castelar's "Life of Byron." . Prince Gortschakoff, the Russian Chancellor, who is a great proficient in French, is said to have been taught the language by a brother of the infamous Marat.

The Arts.

tor Hugo's new volume. A correspondent of the Tribune says of it: "Excepting an occasional editorial note, marking the causes and occasions of this or that speech, the only new matter of this new volume is an introduction entitled Le Droit et la Loi.' This piece, of only fifty pages, serving in some sort as preface to the eventful life of the author, and to the discourses of the orator, is notably characteristic of the writer and the man. It presents sample ends, so to speak, of his most generous sentiments, of his broad humanity, and his curiously - narrow Chauvinism; and with these a little biographical episode of his childhood, in which a beautiful scene of idyllic repose and the truest spirit of large charity are combined by the harmony of truth with Hugo's unique master-hand." . . . Auerbach has published a new volume of short stories which, it is said, excel in poetic fancy, originality, and hearty geniality any of his earlier compositions. . . . Mr. George Henry Lewes has in press a little book" On Actors and the Art of Acting," which will be sure to be read with interest. . . . Reviewing Ouida's "Signa," the Saturday Review says: "In every page-style, story, and detail-we seem to hear an echo of something we have heard before, and to see a copy of something we have seen before. Ouida, eccentric as she is, never seems original; embodying as she does many of the characteristics of the worst kind of

Art dwells on its abuses. A good many ignorant people, he tells us, suppose that the odd, the cheap, and the peculiar, are necessarily excellent, a supposition than which nothing could be more mistaken. To make common materials attractive requires a trained taste and a mature judgment, and, as the chaff and the grain ever recur to be divided in human experience, it is not every girl nor each amateur artist who may hope to secure good results in this range of subjects more than in any other.

The same writer, very sensibly, we think, condemns the indiscriminate use of cheap materials in the adornment of houses, and warns inexperienced young persons against pinning too much faith on the prescriptions for making charming apartments that are to be found in fashion-books and sensational newspapers. He tells us that deal - tables, covered with pink chintz and white cambric, though they may be attractive at the outset, soon become tawdry; and that the chromo, that looks bright and cheerful at the start, possesses fewer of the attributes for enduring charm than a plain black-and-white photograph of a fine picture or building.

This side of the subject, we think, should be seriously dwelt upon, and in this new fash

ion everybody, from the artist to the ignorant school-boy, should take great care not to go further than he knows what he is about, and not "o'erstep the modesty of nature."

A recent collection of Oriental articles.in New York, and a small exhibition of artistic articles in a neighboring city, each showing the marked distinction between the artistic goats and sheep, brought the remarks of the writer we have cited very vividly before us. In the pages of the JOURNAL we have often dwelt on the importance of not despising the " days of small things," and we have endeavored to show the charm of the simplest materials and designs when fittingly used. But ever and anon one's head comes hard against the wall, and the end of Household Art, like all other ends

"Like the horizon bounding earth and skies, Allures from far, yet, as we follow, flies." And this matter in unskillful hands fulfills Tennyson's lines, which tell us that

"All experience is an arch, wherethrough gleams that untraveled world Whose margin fades forever and forever as we move."

Little means in the hands of a true artist or a magician become immortally charming, as witness some slight accessory of a torn glove, a string of beads, or a bit of stuff in a great picture. A privileged few possess from the start a pure instinct for such things, which enables them to cull simples that are a Visitors to Tiffany's a delight to every one. few winters ago may recali some stray bits of summer-time that had been gathered and condensed in stray pieces of silk or crape, embroidered by the hand of an unknown artist. Folded away in little boxes on the shelf, to some individual here and there who had an inkling of their existence, these magic fabrics were unearthed. Of them we recall a section of a grape vine, such a portion as a person might catch a glimpse of through one pane of a window, when the yellow sunlight shining through them should make luminous the outer leaves and the tendrils and the angular shape of the stems. In the cool, shady recesses of this grape vine other leaves appeared gray-green and dusky against their bright neighbors, and, by suggesting a world of light outside, a background of yellow satin symbolized the very concentration of summer glow and warmth. Blue, gossamer - winged flies buzzed in the spaces between the leaves, and the fine threads of a spider-web caught the light.

Another of these fairy pictures, made with needle and thimble and floss, on a bit of dullgray crape, that was the softer and more broken in its tender, vaporous haze, that it had been worn and faded by sun and weather, was a group of willow-buds on pinkishyellow stalks. The swelling of the larger buds was just breaking their polished sheath, and those at the end of the stem, fine as a dart, showed the different stages of the development of this early growth of cloudy April days and damp meadows-this neighbor of running brooks, but lately ice-bound, and now bordered by a margin of faint - green grass.

One more of these pieces of embroidery was redolent of sweet-smelling arbutus, whose

pink flowers peeped forth from amid brown skeletons of leaves and the earthy mould filled with roots and scraps of moss. In yet a fourth, apple blossoms, with birds alilt among the leaves, shone bright against a deep-blue sky. Many others of these simple pictures furnished episodes of Nature, true and beautiful.

The works of this artist arose no one knew how, and have ceased or now come rarely. As we have before had occasion to remark, the Japanese artists work in a similar vein to these pictures, and uniformly, so far as we know, they keep a certain level of excellence, through the good training and positive ideas of the artisan. There has searcely been a better opportunity of judging of their work and its artistic excellence than in the rich and varied collection of it recently sold at Leavitt's. One is sure, in this Oriental handiwork, of significant and thoughtful expression, be it in an enamel vase, with its colors the result of centuries of experiment, or in the shape of flowers, birds, and objects of Nature reduced, if not to their most preRaphaelite, at any rate to their most characteristic ultimates of expression. But by no means are these merits found in young American taste, striving vainly for Household Art in ignorant expression. We have referred to an exhibition in a sister city of various household articles, made by women mostly, and showing native design and ingenuity. There was a very good side to this display, and some needle-work that deserved to have been made in the ideal realms of King Arthur's court indicated the same taste and feeling and artistic conception as our summer pictures at Tiffany's. Then there was stained glass, and one rose-window in particular was formed of three cherubs' heads in different shades of flesh-color and of amber, with streaks in their little wings rich and subdued as forest leaves tinted in autumn, and with faces as soft as Carlo Dolci's angels. Unconventional in touch as charcoal drawings rubbed in with the fingers, this stained glass, in its original treatment by a young lady who was an artstudent in painting and drawing, besides being charming as a bit of color had interest and originality of its own. Many other pieces of industry were here, kept within genuine artistic limitations, but beyond these were works that were a lesson and a caution in this department, as in all others, of the danger of going beyond one's depth.

Scattered among harmonious and pleasing decoration, were strange results of wasted time-purple grounds whose material had no meaning nor bearing on disjointed designs scattered confusedly upon them. Solidlycovered, striped bed-tick, simple and agreeable in itself, was worried up into a meaning. less web by party colored worsted wasted prodigally upon it. China that, left white, would at least have been negatively agreeable, became offensive by an ostentatious pedantry of industry. It is often remarked that, for women who have no taste in dress, black clothes are a positive blessing, and we know of many a blank canvas more valuable than its bedaubed mate. The limitations of art are inflexible, and, as a caution to persons who now threaten to overwhelm the world

with their ignorant, good intentions, we would warn them, for their own sake and for that of other people, not to go beyond their depth. As a matter of household taste, if you don't know what to do, do nothing. Almost any plain color is better than an ignorant mixture, and time can be better spent than in showing ignorance. Art resembles music, inasmuch as what is not surely right in it is surely wrong. Only a few people have the gift of genius like our artist of Tiffany's. And at present few Americans have the trained instinct of the Orientals.

Natural objects in the original or faithful copies are usually, perhaps always, safe; one color is so, or time will make it so, and plain forms are at least inoffensive. Further than this, one must know by science or instinct secondary and tertiary tints and their complements, and the theory and mystery of lines and of light and shade, before he can rightly attempt their use. But, outside of this solid basis, empirical experiments are almost sure to be wrong.

MANY readers will be surprised to learn that the humorous artist, John Leech, has only just been introduced to the French public. The Gazette des Beaux Arts for June has a paper upon him, in which the writer affirms that the name of John Leech, which has been almost a household word in English homes for the last quarter of a century, is scarcely known in France. Several fac-similes from the "Children of the Nobility" are given in illustration of his artistic powers, and a long quotation from Taine's "Notes on England," in which that eminent critic analyzes minutely the Punch illustrations, in which he finds reflected so many traits of English national character, is made to do duty instead of any original criticism on the part of the writer. . . . The Louvre has bought for twelve thousand francs the statue of the Virgin recently discovered at Touraine, which is said to be a fine specimen of French art of the sixteenth century. . "One of the most memorable and graceful acts of Señor Castelar, when in power at Madrid," says the Athenæum, "was to establish upon a permanent and liberal basis a fine-arts academy in Rome. Great interest was taken in its progress by the late Señor Fortuny and other Spanish artists profit by the instruction supplied. Whether working there. It is said that the students or not this academy has aided to produce the modern school of Spanish art, it is difficult to say; but the academy exists, and Spanish artists working in Rome produce pictures which realize high prices in Spain, England, and France." . . . A fine specimen of Jules Bréton is now on exhibition at Snedecor's Gallery, Fifth Avenue, New York. It represents a group of peasants in a rude tavern. There is also a showy and strong picture by Dubufe, the scene being a gleaner in the harvest-field, who has fallen asleep on a pile of wheatsheaves. The strong, sober earnestness of Bréton is well contrasted with the brilliant glitter of Dubufe, whose gleaner looks like a lady masquerading in a park.... Church's "Valley of San Isabel' is still on exhibition at Kuoedler's, where there are also some good specimens of French painters. French ladies dazzling in silks and laces show forth their splendor in a canvas by Baugniet, and in one by Bouttibonne. Millais seems to be getting it severely from the London critics. The Saturday Review, in its Academy article, says: "Mr. Millais again abuses his acknowl

edged genius; his portraits are daring and dashing; they manifest what in trade is known 'Miss as the economy of manufacture.' Eveleen Tennant' is singularly opaque and plastered, while Eveline, Daughter of Evan Lees, Esq.,' appears unwashed, especially in the bare legs and feet; the eyes of the poor child, who is seated almost like a pauper by the wayside, have urgent need of an oculist. We are bound to say that, in an experience pretty widely extended over galleries ancient and modern, we have never seen a pair of eyes, not to speak of other features, so utterly careless in the drawing." . . . The same journal says: "Landscape-art has in recent years-consequent in great measure on the brilliant example of Turner-received a wondrous accession of light, and it may not be altogether fanciful to draw an analogy between this modern manifestation and a well-known development in architecture. In the first beginnings buildings were cavernous and shadowy, but with the advance in structural skill interiors exchanged the gloom of twilight for the sunshine of the day. Landscape-painting has passed through a like transformation. In Mr. Brett's 'Spires and Steeples of the Channel Islands,' the effort has been made to paint actual sunlight sparkling on a summer sky and sea. The effect is very lovely; and in such hazardous attempts we recognize in some measure the reversal of the long-recognized principle that the highest light casts the deepest shade. The supposed law applies to interiors, especially when illuminated artificially; but in the open air sunshine may be so superabundant as to bring reflected lights and colors into gray nooks and corners. This is especially the case in Italy and other southern climates. These exquisite phenomena are transcribed sensitively and sympathetically by artists who each year gain in ardor and in knowledge."

THE

OUR PARIS LETTER.

June 29, 1875. HE weather has been of late the oddest for June that I have ever experienced. Cold, showery, and only not variable because it never clears up, there are great complaints being made against the Paris climate. The bright open-air existence which is so pleasant in Paris at this season of the year has been entirely quenched by the perpetual showers. The cafés chantants and open-air halls are deserted. Per contra, the theatres are doing a thriving business. People are delaying their departure to the country, and water-proofs and umbrellas are the height of fashion. The grass and trees in all the gardens, and parks, and avenues, are green as emeralds, with that fresh, rich verdure that is characteristic of English scenery. We hear, on the other hand, from London, that the weather there is lovely, with cloudless skies and balmy breezes. As for myself, I like this weather. It is fresh, bracing, and invigorating, and it is not warm; for which last boon Heaven be praised!

Quite an important debut has taken place at the Grand Opera, and a successful one at that. It was that of a young Hungarian girl, a Mademoiselle de Reszké, who made her first appearance on any stage the other day in the role of Ophelia in the "Hamlet" of Ambroise Thomas. She is only eighteen, and has much to learn in the way of acting; but she possesses a noble soprano voice, powerful, sweet, and sonorous, and most thoroughly cultivated (she

was, I believe, one of the pupils of Madame Viardot), and she achieved a great success. She is a tall, handsome girl, with blue eyes and a profusion of lovely fair hair; but she possesses a little "tip-tilted" nose, of which the critics are inclined to make much fun. But, notwithstanding her nose, she is, I think, destined to become a prominent member of the troupe of the Grand Opera. As to the opera itself, "Hamlet" without Faure is "Hamlet" without Hamlet, though Lasalle, who replaces him, acquitted himself fairly well of his difficult task. The scenery, the chorus, and the ballet, were all beyond description magnificent. There was a touch of real poetic effect in the scene on the ramparts (called the Esplanade in the French libretto) where the ghost appears. The snow-capped turrets, the brilliantly illuminated castle in the background, and a vast, sullen mass of buildings, with frowning towers and gloomy portals, at the right, rising dark against the moonlight, prepared the mind for some weird and supernatural event. Yet, strange to say, though the Esplanade was covered with snow, the next act showed a blooming and rich-foliaged garden, wherein Hamlet and Ophelia had a little talk. However, most things are strange in the "Hamlet" of the operatic boards. Once you admit the possibility of a wine-bibbing, drinking-song-singing Hamlet, you will have but little difficulty in accepting the idea of a winter's night being followed by a summer's day. The last act, which has never been produced upon the American boards, is very wonderful to behold. The two grave-diggers enter, and, after imbibing much spiritual comfort from a pocket-flask, sing a doleful duet in a minor key, to which Hamlet listens with great edification. Then Laertes comes in, and he and Hamlet instanter fall to fighting a duel, which is interrupted by the arrival of the funeral-procession of Ophelia, a very beautiful and impressive pageant, by-the-way, including a band of young girls clad in white and crowned with white roses, and any number of guards, courtiers, etc. The body of Ophelia, in white robes and white-rose wreath, was borne on an open bier, only shrouded from view by a covering of white lace; the effect was beautiful, and would have been very impressive had not the living Ophelia possessed very fair hair and her supposed corpse very dark tresses. Then, in the midst of the funeral rites, up pops the ghost (a very substantial-looking spectre, by-the-way) from behind a bush, and Hamlet, being thus recalled to a sense of his duty, at once draws his sword and slays his uncle beside Ophelia's grave, afterward declaring solemnly that he means to live for the good of his people, or words to that effect. I regret very much that the authors of the libretto did not see fit to resuscitate Ophelia and marry the lovers at last, winding up the piece with their coronation as King and Queen of Denmark! There were some comical inaccuracies visible in the costumes. The dress adopted throughout was that of the reign of Henri IV., which did as well as that of any other period; but the ghost of the king was attired in Scandinavian armor with a winged helmet, and Ophelia in the play-scene fanned herself with a pointed nineteenth-century fan with gilt sticks. So much for the accuracy of the Grand Opera. The night that I was there a huge piece of plaster, detached from the mouldings of the ceiling by the heat of the extra gas-jets encircling the dome, fell with great violence into the amphitheatreseats (which correspond to the last twelve rows of the parquet-seats at home). It struck an old gentleman on the arm, and injured him

so severely that he nearly fainted with the pain, and had to be removed from the theatre. Had it fallen on his head it would doubtless have killed him instantly. A fresh appropriation of two million francs (four hundred thousand dollars) is asked for in order to finish the Opera-House, many parts of it, notably the refreshment-rooms, still remaining incomplete.

And now that I am on the subject of the Opera-House, let me ask you, O sapient JOURNAL! how many operas you imagine have been produced at this costly temple of art during these first six months of its existence? Five only-namely, "La Juive," "La Favorita," "Guillaume Tell," "Les Huguenots," and "Hamlet." In two weeks the Vienna OperaHouse presented nine operas, and in six weeks the one in Berlin gave fifteen. Was it worth while to spend twelve million dollars on an opera-house merely that it might serve as a shrine for a staircase and a foyer, or as a conversation-hall for the French aristocracy?

Gossip from London on the subject of the Italian opera in that city informs me that Nilsson's voice has been greatly injured and worn, some say by her recent illness, and others by her exertions in singing in "Lohengrin," the noisy instrumentation of Wagner being fatal to the voice. She is also (alas for the inæsthetic rumor!) reported to be getting very stout. "She is nearly as large as was Parepa-Rosa," quoth my informant. O fair and angelic Christine! is it to this complexion thou hast come at last? Patti still reigns unquestioned queen of the operatic boards, untiring and adored, with powers and voice that mature with wear and time, and are not in the least impaired.

As an instance of.her vigor and energy, I am told that, a few weeks ago, during the preparation of the revival of Gounod's "Bomeo and Juliet," she, one evening at the close of the evening's performance, turned to the manager and said to him:

"We are all here; let us have a rehearsal of Romeo and Juliet' at once."

"But, madame," remonstrated the astonished manager, "you have just got through a long opera, and it is one o'clock in the morning-are you not tired?"

"Tired!" quoth the indefatigable little Queen of Song, "I am never tired!”

However, the suggestion of the energetic prima donna was not adopted. Patti now receives the highest prices ever paid in London to a prima donna, namely, one thousand dollars per night in gold for each performance at the opera, and two hundred and fifty for every song she sings at a concert, with one hundred and fifty for each encore. In one day she made seventeen hundred dollars. I hear that Madame Titiens is positively engaged for an operatic and concert tour for next season in the United States. I do not think that the engagement will be a successful one, great artist as the lady is, for she is growing old, is not at all prepossessing in appearance, and her voice is much worn. Miss Abbott's debut in London has been postponed til next season. The rumor that I before mentioned, namely, that she had studied the opera of "La Fille du Régiment," in which she was to have appeared, from the original score and not as it is now performed on the Italian boards, was correct, so that when she came to rehearse the opera it was found that she would have to relearn it entirely before attempting to sing it in London. So, on the night appointed for her debut, Mademoiselle Marimon took her place. Miss Blanche Tucker has signed an engagement for five years with Mr. Gye, but is to study for another year in Italy before ap

pearing in opera. Mrs. Knox (Miss Florence Rice that was) is positively to make her debut next season at the Grand Opera in Paris, either as Leonora in "La Favorita," or as Selika in "L'Africaine." Miss Montague, who is reported to be the most promising of the young embryo prime donne of the present day, is said to be engaged to sing in English opera with Miss Kellogg next season.

There has just been brought out a new style of jewelry, which is very lovely and very effective. It is carved out of the pink shell from which those pink cameos were cut that used to be the delight of our mothers and grandmothers. Set in a rim of dingy gold, their appearance used to be more suggestive of scented soap than of any thing very artistic or precious. But the skill of the carver, joined to the exquisite tints of the material, has resulted in ornaments of the greatest beauty. The styles are precisely those adopted for coral jewelry, namely, sprays of flowers and leaves, groups of birds and flowers in high relief, etc. A necklace of sea-shells was very beautifully carved, as were also bracelets of roses, composed of rows of the flower, linked together with a fine gold chain, without buds or foliage. Sprays and coronets of flowers and leaves for the hair were shown, as well as sets of every size and style. Nothing can possibly be imagined more beautiful than the coloring of this new jewelry, shading from the most vivid yet delicate rose-color to purest white, exquisite in tint as the edges of the petals of a rose or the sun-flushed snow of an Alpine peak rising against a summer sunset. Pink coral has a yellowish tinge, but this new material might be composed of petrified roseleaves for purity and delicacy of hue. Imagine a radiant blonde, attired in palest blue, and with a parure of these new ornaments - the effect would be delicious! Unfortunately, the fine workmanship and the beauty of the material make this new jewelry almost as costly as coral. It was in the show-rooms of Tiffany & Co., on the Rue Châteaudun that I saw this charming novelty, so that it will speedily be introduced to New York.

Laferrière, in the last published division of his memoirs, gives an anecdote of Châteaubriand, which was related to him by the Viscount d'Arlincourt, and which places the author of "Atala" in no very favorable light. To thoroughly understand the story, it must be stated that the cherished vision of Madame Récamier in her later days was to be called, even in her dying hour, Madame de Chateaubriand. In 1846, the Viscount d'Arlincourt met Châteaubriand and Madame Récamier in Rome. They were traveling together, the recent death of Madame de Châteaubriand having left the illustrious widower perfect liberty of action, and the great age, both of himself and his celebrated friend, being a thorough protection against scandal. All the prestige which had once surrounded Madame Récamier had long since faded, her marvelous beauty had completely vanished, and she was almost blind. M. d'Arlincourt went to pay them a visit. He says:

"I found Madame Récamier motionless in her arm-chair, and following with her clouded gaze the voice of Châteaubriand, she was listening to him, poor woman, she who cradled in adulation had listened so little to her flatterers.

"I protested warmly against such a determination.

"Oh, can a poet thus profane his own renown!' cried Madame Récamier, in a troubled voice; 'I implore you, d'Arlincourt, tell M. de Châteaubriand that he has no right to break his pen, and that his glory will but increase with every fresh line that he writes.'

"Châteaubriand stopped before Madame Récamier, shrugged his shoulders, and then began to pace the floor, saying, in a tone of whose cruel hardness the most vitriolized pen could convey but a faint idea:

"Do not listen to her, d'Arlincourt-'tis but an old woman's dotings!'

"Madame Récamier turned livid; she bowed her head, crushed by this insult, which was the first she had ever received, the most cutting that could have smitten her, for in that moment she was forced to bid adieu to all hope of ever becoming Madame de Châteaubriand."

Barye, the celebrated sculptor and designer in bronze, died the other day, at the age of seventy-nine. Carpeaux is very ill, having been smitten with paralysis of the lower limbs, and he will probably not long survive the attack. LUCY H. HOOPER.

OUR LONDON LETTER. MR. FRANK BUCKLAND'S "Log-Book of a Fisherman and Zoologist" will be the delight of many a student of natural history. Mr. Buckland ever writes in a lively vein: he discourses to you of scientific matters in the most pleasant way. One of the editors of Land and Water, and an inspector of salmon-fisheries (his father, the late Dean of Westminster, was the author of a "Bridgewater Treatise"), he goes to and fro with his eyes and ears open to their widest, and whatever he sees or hears that is strange or peculiar in the animal world at once makes a note of. And these "notes," by-the-way, are mostly jotted down in railway-trains. Mr. Buckland's duties as inspector necessitate frequent and long journeys; as he is being whirled along by the "ironhorse" he writes his articles. Most of the papers which go to make up the present volume-in size, a goodly one-first appeared in the paper he helps to edit. Very amusing some of them are. Among these papers is one descriptive of a dinner of American game given at that fashionable English hostelry, the Langham Hotel, by your countryman, Mr. Morton C. Fisher. This dinner took place in 1871, and on the occasion our author sat next to Mr. Leland, who, says he, " gave me much information about the various dishes put before us"-dishes fit for a king. There was terrapin-soup, which Mr. Buckland thought was "exceedingly good," and wonders it has not been introduced into England; there was buffalo, which was "exceedingly tender," more so than any rump-steak he ever tasted; there was wild-turkey, more tender," in our epicure's opinion, "than the English turkey;" there were sweet-potatoes, "literally what their name professes;" there was cranberry-sauce, which "has a nice, sharp semiacid about it which goes well with turkey, and would probably be found a great adjunct to roast-pheasant;" there was-but it would be easier to tell what there was not than what there was. Suffice it to say that Mr. Buckland was highly delighted with his repast, and not less so with the cigarettes that were provided during one of the intervals. Regarding this dinner custom of yours, Mr. Buckland remarks: "If cigarettes were introduced at an early period of English public dinners, I feel certain that

the host would keep his guests together much longer than at present, and that the speeches would be much more eloquent. Medicinally speaking, I feel convinced that there is no greater adjunct to digestion, and no greater prompter of good-fellowship than a whiff of tobacco." Coming, as these words do, from one who, in his younger days, had a great deal of experience as a medical man, his utterances have weight. The other papers in Mr. Buckland's "Log-Book" are very various. Here is an article on "The Emus and Kangaroos at Blenheim Palace;" there one on "SingingMice;" here, again, is another on "The Woodpecker and the Bittern;" yet a fourth

on

66

Habits of the Fur-Seal;" and a fifth on our author's own monkeys, whose ways were certainly "peculiar." A most curious contribution is that on "Sir Edwin Landseer's Favorite Red Spot," in which Mr. Buckland shows that nearly all that great painter's pictures have a bit of red introduced into them for the sake of effect. Doesn't Turner enliven up one of his dullest sea-pieces with a vermilion berry?

Our critics-" reviewers" I always prefer to call them, for there are but few real critics now-are waxing most enthusiastic over Mr. Tennyson's just - published drama, Queen Mary." The "leading journal" hints that it is the greatest piece of its kind since the time of Shakespeare; the "leading journal" also says that one of the finest passages in the volume is the following, as, by-the-way, does also the Daily News:

"He hath awaked! he hath awaked! He stirs within the darkness;

O Philip, husband! now thy love to mine Will cling more close, and those bleak manners thaw

That make me shamed and tongue-tied in my love.

The second Prince of Peace

The great unborn defender of the Faith,
Who will avenge me of mine enemies-
He comes and my star rises.
The stormy Wyatts and Northumberlands,
The proud ambitions of Elizabeth,
And all her fieriest partisans-are pale
Before my star!

The light of this new learning wanes and dies;
The ghosts of Luther and Zuinglius fade
Into the deathless hell which is their doom
Before my star!

His sceptre shall go forth from Ind to Ind!
His sword shall hew the heretic peoples down;
His faith shall clothe the world that will be his
Like universal air and sunshine! Open,
Ye everlasting gates! The king is here!
My star, my son!"

The unfortunate Queen declaims, I need hardly say, these lines herself, what time she is under the impression that her cold husband is softening toward her, and that, after all, she is likely to become the mother of a race of Roman Catholic kings. I am certain, however, if I were to look very carefully, I could find a grander passage than that. Fine though it undoubtedly is, surely it is not natural. What a power of language is there! A too powerful flow, it seems to me. The various char

made a speech to the brillian. audience assembled. In this speech he referred modestly to his great success, dwelt lovingly on the death of his benefactor-for a benefactor he was-Mr. Bateman, and then proceeded to make two announcements. One of these was that Miss "Leah" Bateman is about to join her mother's company; the other was-and here's the point-that Mr. Tennyson's "Queen Mary" will be played at the Lyceum next season, with Miss Bateman as the Queen, and himself, perhaps though this is not quite settled-as Philip. Before "Queen Mary," however, "Macbeth" will be played. Some wit, hailing from ayont the Tweed, has said that when Mr. Irving appears as the Scottish king he will be "kilt" entirely. But you mustn't believe it, though the fact remains that Mr. Irving's legs are undoubtedly slim.

Mr. Buckstone has also, I may as well tell you here, been addressing a theatrical audience. He has just taken his annual benefit at the "little house"-Mr. Buckstone himself always calls it lovingly the little house-in the Haymarket, when he of course spoke his usual "few words." As usual, too, these "few words" were well ordered; they are ever worth listening to, even apart from the unctuous way in which they are delivered. Henceforth, the venerable comedian told his listeners-and they crowded the house-that Mr. Sothern will administer the theatre in his stead both "before and behind the curtain," he himself, however, still figuring as an actor and the lessee. Further, he intimated that Mr. J. C. Clarke, regarding whose artistic merits I am glad to see you and I, Mr. Editor, are at one, is engaged for next season, as is also Mr. H. J. Byron, who will play the hero in a new piece of his own.

Rossini's "Semiramide" has been the great attraction at both our opera-houses during the last few days. A notable fact this, seeing that when the piece was first produced in Venice, fifty years ago, it was a complete failure. It was Méry, the poet, was it not, who used to button-hole his friend Rossini and say to him, "Now, my dear maestro, sit down and let me tell you-I am sure you don't know it-what your genius has conceived and executed in the music of 'Semiramide?'" How French! Yet Méry himself could hardly have foreseen how popular the opera would become.

In a recent letter, I told you that Mr. Black and Mr. Blackmore were running, as it were, a race together. The race continues. "Three Feathers" and "Alice Lorraine " are now both in their fifth edition. Issued as they are by the one publisher, and advertised as they invariably are together, novel-readers are beginning to look upon them as companionworks. So much the better for Mr. Blackmore, whose stories have hitherto had a very limited sale, and this notwithstanding that all of them are characteristic and full of color. WILL WILLIAMS.

as a whole, "Queen Mary" is a notable work. It has humor as well as pathos-a fact that will be a matter of wonder to none of Mr. Tennyson's admirers now, though it would have been quite a surprise before the publication of his "Northern Farmer."

"Queen Mary" reminds me of Mr. Irving. I will tell you why. A few days ago the two hundredth performance (mark that, ye sneerers at the legitimate drama!) of "Hamlet" took place at the Lyceum, on which memorable occasion, as in duty bound, the young tragedian

genuity displayed in the construction of these machines are the zeal and enterprise which in so brief a period have brought the work up to so high a standard of excellence that it shall successfully compete with that accomplished by the long-established and perfected methods.

In these illustrations, both of the plates and globes, the dark portions represent the ground or depolished surfaces, the light portions being untouched or transparent.

Before describing the special processes by which glass plates and globes may be ground and engraved, we would refer to several other departments of labor where the blast is made to render efficient service. Among these may be mentioned the cleaning of metal castings and sheet-metal; the graining of zinc plates for lithographic purposes; the frosting of silver-ware; the cutting of figures on stone and glass for jewelry; and the cutting of letters and devices on monuments, tombstones, etc. As a practical example of what is now being actually accomplished under this latter head, we are informed by Mr. Blake that a contractor is now filling a large contract for marble head-stones designed for the several government cemeteries. In this work, which is being conducted at Rutland, Vermont, three machines are used. These are tended by one man, who employs a dozen boys to sort out and attach the cast-iron letters, which act as stencils, to the smooth slabs. By this method there may be turned out handsomely-cut inscriptions, averaging eighteen raised letters, at the astounding rate of three bundred stones a day. It thus appears that, though young in years, the sand-blast is an accomplished and demonstrable success. Although in this and several other departments great progress has been made, the signal and most marked achievement, as has already been stated, is in the several departments of glass-cutting and engraving. The work under this head may be divided into two classes -that of flat glass and of curved surfaces. The former includes all plain ground or ornamental plates for doors, offices, windowscreens, etc., while the main work in curved

We will now enter the room where this work is done, and follow the glass plate through the several processes by which it is first prepared and then cut. Having been laid down on a low, flat table, the plate is covered over its whole surface with a thin layer of tin-foil. Upon this bright metallic surface the artist sketches lightly any desired design such as here indicated. The lines of this sketch are made with a pencil, and thus appear black. The plate with its coating of tin is then removed, and placed over a gently-heated surface, where it receives over its entire face a thin layer of melted wax. This latter is sufficiently transparent to permit of the lines of the sketch being seen beneath it. When the wax has hardened, a third artisan, by the aid of a sharp knife, cuts down through the wax and zinc along the lines indicated. This being accomplished, the zinc, with its coating of wax, is pulled off from that portion which it is desired to grind or depolish, leaving the rest covered. It is now only needed to place the plate with its stencil surface up on the bands or carriers of the machine, and the whole rapidly passes under the sand, and, the work is finished-that is, the exposed portions are ground, while those parts covered with the zinc sheet and its wax coating are still untouched. This, in brief, is the general method at present in use for accomplishing such work as that of the

surfaces is illustrated in the ornamentation of globes and shades. To these may be added the engraving of tumblers, decanters, and all kinds of table furniture, vases, etc.

portion which has received the rubber ink is untouched, and thus the surface beneath it is unground. It may be seen how by this method work may be rapidly duplicated.

The task of ornamenting globes is one requiring a more complicated mechanical device, though the general methods are the same. After the pattern has been put on the globe, it is placed on a revolving spindle attached to a frame which brings every part of it over the blast-this blast being of the general character illustrated in the smaller of the figures given last week. The globe is thus engraved in less than a minute. By this method it is estimated that three gross of globes may be ornamented a day. The process of ornamenting tumblers, etc., is of this same general character.

Though these illustrations, prepared with special attention to truth, in no way exaggerate the beauty of this work, yet the delicacy of the effects here produced has been greatly exceeded. The department best illustrating the delicacy with which the sand may be made to do its work, is that of copying engravings or even photographs. From an authority before quoted; we learn that photographic negatives in bichromated gelatine from delicate line engravings have been thus faithfully copied on glass. In photographic copies in gelatine, taken from Nature, the lights and shadows produce films of gelatine of different degrees of thickness. A carefully-regulated sand-blast will act upon the glass beneath these films more or less powerfully in proportion to the thickness of the film, and the half-tones or gradations of light and shade are thus produced on the glass.

If we apply the sand-blast to a cake of brittle pitch or resin, on which a picture has been produced by photography in gelatine, or drawn by hand in oil or gum, the bare surface of the material may be cut away to any desired depth. The lines left in relief will be well supported, their base being