there may be one or two individuals to represent the general public, while all around are officials and clerks, without whose aid the Board would not be able to do its work.

Let us remark in conclusion that the establishment of the Metropolitan Board of Works was a great step in advance and a real gain for the public. Up till the time of its establishment the metropolis, excluding the City of London and Westminster, was governed by vestries. There was no attempt at local government in the interests of the whole. The disadvantage of this state of things was manifold. What one parish did another undid. There

Vestries were supreme

was no harmonious action. within their local limits. They acted quite independently of another, often regardless of each other, often in a strong spirit of hostility. Sometimes they quarrelled with each other and went to law, to the increasing of the rates and for the good of the lawyers. This mischievous order of things is now gone, and in their place we have the more dignified, the more sensible, the more economical action, looked at in the interests of the entire community, of the Metropolitan Board of Works. J. EWING RITCHIE.

A

PEASANT was one day driving some geese to a neighbouring town where he hoped to sell them. He had a long stick in his hand, and, to say the truth, he did not treat his flock of geese with much consideration. I do not blame him, however; he was anxious to get to the market in time to make a profit, and not only geese but men must expect to suffer if they hinder gain.

The geese, however, did not look on the matter in this light, and happening to meet a traveller walking along the road they poured forth their complaints against the peasant who was driving them.

"Where can you find geese more unhappy than we are? See how this peasant is hurrying on this way and that, and driving us just as though we were only common geese. Ignorant fellow as he is, he never thinks how he is bound to honour and respect us; for we are the distinguished de

scendants of those very geese to whom Rome once owed its salvation, so that a festival was established in their honour."

"But for what do you expect to be distinguished yourselves?" asked the traveller.

"Because our ancestors-"

"Yes, I know; I have read all about it. What I want to know is what good have you yourselves done ?"

"Why, our ancestors saved Rome."

66

Yes, yes; but what have you done of the

kind?"

"We? Nothing."

"Of what good are you, then? Do leave your ancestors at peace. They were honoured for their deeds; but you, my friends, are only fit for roasting."

I might explain at length the meaning of this fable, but it would not do to irritate the geese too much.

-From the Russian of Kriloff.

En the Wood.

WHEN thou art weary, go into the fields,
Nor scorn to feel a child's joy to behold
The bowing buttercups bend in the breeze,
Dashing the green with gold.

Stand by the stile, within the green cornfields,
When early on some iron-gray clouded morn
The wind sweeps o'er the land, and listen to
The rustling of the corn.

And there is music, music rarely sweet,

From every hedge in early summer-time;
Each little bird seems helping all he can
To ring a summer-chime.

Oh, how they sing in early summer-time,

Those happy birds, with voices full of cheer! The chaffinch in his bowery elm all day Sings,"Tis the sweet o' the year!"

The bold blackbird, high up among the boughs, Where leaves grow thickest, whistles clear and strong;

The lark up-struggles thro' the dazzling air
In ecstacy of song.

I know a wood where tangled sunbeams lie,
Caught in the brambles; there the grasses grow
Untrampled, and at noon life seems to pause,
And sleepy airs breathe slow.

The honeysuckle twines about the briar;

The ivy and the mantling mosses climb Over old trees, and make the wrinkled boles

Fairer than in their prime;

The topmost branches hardly stir-so still
Is noon within the wood; the hazy sky
Seems near; and round the honeysuckle flits
One yellow butterfly.

Yet is not silence in the wood-the birds

Are sweetly piping all within the cover; Two thrushes, each one side an open space, Sing all their old songs over.

The nightingale sings now and then, as tho'

She thought her song too sweet for daylight ears; Bright dragon-flies, with wiry wings, dart swift Between the tall grass-spears.

Inland, at eve, the freshening twilight-breeze

Fills out the spreading boughs of every tree, And makes a sound in the close-clustered elms Like to a far-off sea.

There, while we listen, pacing slow to hear,

We find a thought that links the earth with heaven, Remembering once the Voice of God did sound Among the trees at even.

374

men to curl and paper up their hair in order to qualify them for posts in the Army.

It may be meant for a joke, but it is inserted between two paragraphs which certainly have no "joke" about them. I note invariably, however, that the humour of a hundred years ago, if it is not so broad as to be coarse and even worse, is so carefully wrapped up that we cannot without much consideration discover it.

June 24, 1764.-When a certain great Minister of State took his leave of some persons of distinction he did it in a fustian frock, and not à la mode de Paris, which put them a little out of humour, they deeming it a mark of contempt, and therefore returned the visit in the same manner.

Poor Minister of State! How he must have felt the rebuke!

Here is another scrap of fashionable gossip apropos of a well-known politician:

April, 1768.-So great is some people's veneration or enthusiasm for Mr. Wilkes, that we are assured a gentleman has lately had a coat made, on the button-holes of which are embroidered the words, Wilkes and Liberty.

The following deals with a subject of ever-recurring interest:

February 5, 1765.-Several eminent silk manufacturers of Spitalfields attended on Friday at the Treasury, and were examined by their lordships upon the decline of that valuable branch of trade. It is said a noble countess, highly distinguished for her public spirit, has declared her intention of wearing only British manufactures, and to encourage the manufacturer has allowed him to affix to his name and sign, "Weaver to Her Ladyship."

This surely must have been an ancestress of the great champion of English industry, Lady Bective. It is so annoying not to know her name. Whoever she was, the noble countess brought high influence to her aid; for see the announcement:

A stocking manufacturer at Doncaster, who lately sold twenty pairs of stockings at a guinea each pair, has got a commission from some of the nobility for six pairs at six pounds each pair, which he has undertaken to execute. To so great perfection is that branch of British industry arrived.

Rather a long price, is it not? Another paragraph says:

June, 1766.-We hear Her Royal Highness Princess Caroline Matilda has particularly requested that her wedding cloaths and Her Royal Highness's other dresses shall be made of the manufactures of England.

Poor ill-fated princess! I find close by the account of that marriage, which, until she died broken-hearted nineteen years later in the Castle of Lille, brought her only wretchedness and misery.

October 2, 1766.-Last night between seven and eight Her Royal Highness the Princess Caroline Matilda, youngest sister of our most gracious Sovereign, was married by proxy to the King of Denmark, His Royal Highness the Duke of York standing proxy for His Danish Majesty. The ceremony was performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury in the Council Chamber of St. James's. This morning about half after six the Queen of Denmark set out from Carlton House, attended by Lady Mary Boothby, Count Bothman, and several other persons of distinction, in three coaches-and-six and two post-chaises, escorted by a party of Horse Guards and a numerous train of attendants, for Harwich, to embark on board the yacht for Rotterdam, from

Their whence Her Majesty will proceed to Denmark. Royal Highnesses the Dukes of York and Gloucester, Prince Henry, and the Princess of Brunswick were at Carlton House between five and six in the morning to take leave of their royal sister, which was very affecting on all sides, and the Queen of Denmark shed tears when getting into the coach. I do not wonder at it. What a forlorn marriage! What an ordeal, to go all alone, at least without any of her own kith and kin, into a foreign country and among strangers to meet a husband who had not taken the trouble to fetch her from the land of her birth! Small wonder that she shed tears on getting into the coach.

In 1767 we find two very amusing letters from a lady and gentleman of fashion. Though rather long, they are both so laughable that I must give them in full.

October, 1767.-To the Printer of the "St James's Chronicle":-Sir,-It hath often been observed that we English people are remarkable for extremities—that is, that we are remarkable for acting in opposition to those wise maxims which tell us, In medio tutissimus ibis, or In medio consistet virtus. Though an Englishman, I have candour enough to acknowledge the truth of the accusation, and I think it was never more exemplified than at present by my countrywomen in the enormous size of their heads. It is not very long since this part of their sweet bodies used to be bound so tight and so amazingly snug that they appeared like a pin's head on the top of a knitting-needle. But now they have so far exceeded the golden mean in the contrary extremity that our fine ladies remind me of an apple stuck on the top of a small skewer. If I am not mistaken the head of the Venus de Medicis measures about one-tenth of her whole body. This, therefore, we may very justly conclude to be the just proportion. In proportion, therefore, as a lady deviates in her appearance from that standard, the nearer she approaches to our idea of a monster. How then is it pos sible that a fine lady can imagine herself agreeable in the eyes of a spectator when her head makes a full fourth of her whole body? I often frequent the playhouse, and between the acts am wont to regale myself with contemplating the charms of my fair countrywomen; but really their heads of late have become so enormous that, in order to behold them without disgust, I find myself under the necessity of imagining them to be so many Patagonians, and conse quently that the feet of those in the boxes are on a level with the floor of the orchestra. This I find to be a much more tolerable idea than to suppose them to be dwarfs, with giants' heads. Pray, sir, inform these fair ladies that without proportion there can be no beauty, and that an oyster-wench in puris naturalibis is a much more desirable object than a brocaded monster. But, cries her ladyship, it is the fashion. Fie! fie! my good lady, I expected a more rational answer. Ought a woman of your understanding to be led into manifest absurdity by a parcel of foolish ridiculous female coxcombs and French friseurs?—I am, Sir, yours, etc.

It is severe, and the writer seems to have held the popular belief that the Patagonians are the veritable sons of Anak. Little more than a year previous to the date of his letter had appeared a short account of the natives of that country, which our severe friend had evidently seen, and, seeing, believed. Here it is:

August 19, 1766.-There is no doubt of the Patagonians being as tall a people as has been represented-viz., between eight and ten feet. As a corroboration one of the ship's people (it does not, by-the-bye, say what ship) brought home, with him a skeleton of one of their hands, which measures sixteen inches from the joint of the wrist to the fingers' ends, and every way large in proportion. Their children are five feet high at two years old, and their women are adorned with bracelets of gold. They do not inter their dead, but by a preparation eat off their flesh and hang the bones in a box

up a tree, many of which were seen and might have been brought away easily.

Just a proof that travellers see strange things, and geese at home believe them. I find, on looking into the subject, that the Patagonians average five feet ten, but are known to reach six feet four. Not more extraordinary in height than the Englishmen we are accustomed to see every day. And here is the reply to the letter:

October 14, 1767.-Sir,-In your paper of Saturday I read a letter of criticism on the present taste of the ladies' head-dresses. I cannot help thinking it severe and indeed scurrilous to compare the fairest of the creation to monsters. Insufferable! it is an impertinence not to be forgiven by the injured sex. I must confess the extravagance of the present mode is ridiculous in a great degree and really ought to be corrected; but then, in a more gentle manner than your correspondent has done. We women, you know, are generally deemed weak; if this argument is allowed, our little foibles should be overlooked; and I think I may with justice vindicate my own sex, by saying they are not half so absurd in their dress as the men, who are supposed to have sense superior to us, consequently should not rush into such extremes. I am sure they deviate from their great sense when they make themselves such enormous figures as they do at present. What is there on earth that has a more ridiculous

appearance than a powdered beau? I would advise your satirical friend to compare a lady's and a gentleman's head together, then let him say which object is the most worthy of ridicule; if he speaks candidly, I am apt to think the verdict will be given in favour of the lady. For my part, I can compare a fine gentleman's head to nothing better than a roundcut yew-tree in a white-frosty morning. I could wish these very (would-be) wise beings did not make themselves appear such very great dolls by finding fault with those who are so very much more perfect than themselves.-I am, Sir, your friend, LEONORA.-Grosvenor Square.

A couple of nice, pleasant, complimentary letters, are they not? I really cannot tell which gets the best of the argument-both are somewhat too fluent to be very effective; a dozen words, terse and strictly to the point, would have been better. As an example, a man once said to a young lady, 2 distinguished-looking girl, who was accustomed to plenty of admiration, and had at times as keen a tongue as any one I know, “I don't like the way you do your hair." The girl looked him coolly up and down, from head to feet, and back again. "I should be very sorry if you did," she remarked, quietly. Of course there was a general laugh, and of course he left that young woman alone for the future.

H. V. P.

TH

"WRIGHT

HE acquisition of an art gallery by the corporation of Derby has been very appropriately signalised this year by an exhibition of pictures mainly the work of a Derby artist, or of engravings from his work. The experiment of bringing together a large number of the pictures of any one painter is sometimes perilous. Such collections have been very common of late, but then many of them have been put together by the artists themselves-the Doré gallery, for instance, the Millais collection, and the Alma Tadema collection-and of course would comprise only such works as would be likely to set forth the painter's powers in the most favourable light. The Derby artist whose pictures have just been displayed by his appreciative townsmen, himself exhibited a selection of twenty-five of his paintings just about a century ago. But a promiscuous gathering of all the available works of any artist is perilously apt to bring into striking prominence mannerisms and tricks of effect, and to show with painful clearness limits of scope and power. A painter whose works can bear this ordeal must be exceptionally gifted.

No doubt "Wright of Derby" was an exceptionally gifted man, even for a successful artist. He was gifted in many ways. A bright, genial nature, of exquisite sensibility, and a tenderness of heart and conscience, seem to have been characteristic of Joseph Wright. A man of undoubted genius, he was apparently entirely free from the affectations and follies and vices which a generation or two ago, more commonly than in our own day, were supposed to be intimately connected with genius, and have not unfrequently been accepted as natural indications of it.

Wright was a man of real talent. One of his

OF DERBY."

biographers speaks of him as being very mild and unassuming in his manner, and having the perfect carriage of a gentleman-generous, full of sensibility, and honourable and punctual in all his transactions. Such ought to be in an especial degree the characteristics of all men specially endowed with the perception of the beautiful. He is after all but a mental monstrosity who is keenly alive to beauty of colour and form and harmonious composition, and has no sense of the beauty of a wholesome and harmonious life. A man with George Morland's artistic instincts, and with George Morland's vicious and degraded life, is as much a deformity as a man with one arm fully and finely developed and the other shrivelled and shrunken by disease.

Joseph Wright was born at Derby on the 3rd of September, 1734. He was the son of a respectable attorney in that town, and the first indications of talent seemed to point to mechanics rather than art as his future line. As a child he was always curiously interested in any mechanical proceedings, and after closely watching the operations of any workman, would often go away and attempt the same thing himself. About the age of eleven, however, he became very much absorbed in drawing, and seems to have evinced rather unusual adroitness in taking likenesses, often, it is said, producing recognisable portraits of persons he had seen only once. Possibly if young Wright had been obliged to turn to the first employment that presented a chance of making a living, as many boys of twelve or fourteen years of age have to do, the world might never have heard much of him. We are apt to talk sometimes as though poverty were the foster-mother of genius, and now and then there are cases in which it really seems