The Aberystwith Observer

DRAWING FOR WORKING MEN. A most important lecture 'was recently delivered in the Mechanics' Institute at Keighley, by Mr. Walter Smith, Head Master of the Leeds School of Arts, and Art Master in Haddersfield College. It has since been published for general circulation, and contains such excellent advice on this important subject, that we gladly give it additional publicity. The avowed object of the lecturer was to give a sketch of the progress of art in this country, and to show how mechanics, carpenters, joiners, stonemasons, plasterers, weavers, pattern-makers, designers, and all other working men may improve their own positions as individuals, and thereby contribute to the prosperity and general welfare of their trade and country. We give some extracts from the lecture:- WHAT WE WERE IN ART. Forty years ago Napoleon called us a nation of shop- keepers. We bought, we sold, we got gain. But we were dead to the requirements of a civilised people; we did not say How beautiful a thing is, or how power- ful," but we asked "What does it cost? Is there a market for it ?" And so the Colossus that bestrode the world said we were money-grubbing shopkeepers, who knew nothing of art or war. Our fathers taught him to moderate his tone about war. It remained for this generation to falsify his estimate about England in the matter of art. But our fathers deserved his stigma. In art we were nowhere. When he said we were a nation of shopkeepers, he was probably aware that our designs for manufactures were the work of Frenchmen and Germans, and that in all, save the trade of the matter, we were deficient. In Manchester and Lon- don, designs were made by French artists and worked out by English workmen-i.e., France supplied the head, England the hands. Even now we have not got over this state of things; but this system of importing foreign designers is becoming a thing of the past. I say becoming, for disgraceful as it may seem, yet in your own neighbourhood, Halifax, the salary of 1,000?. per annum is given to a celebrated French designer, who directs the art-workmanship of the largest carpet factory in Halifax. And in London, at the most im- portant of our silver factories, Hunt and Roskell's, a foreign artist, Antoine Vechte, executes for us our race cups, plate, and even the national medallion, whereby we reward our art-students for success in our national competitions of School of Art. The staff of designers we imported and paid cost us an im- mense annual sum of money. And you will ask, Why did we pay it?" I shall answer you, because our workmen could not design; could execute, but not originate. And now if you ask me why this was, I shall tell you, the reason was because French workmen were taught to draw, whilst our English workmen were not taught. Here is the pith and secret of the whole matter. PROGRESS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. The Great Exhibition of 1851 infused a vitality into our art manufacturers which they never had before. There arose immediately a demand for art-education, to remedy the defects observed in our art-workmanship. From the surplus funds of profit arising on the Exhi- bition, it was determined to purchase the South Ken- sington estate, in London, and build upon it a Museum of Ornamental Manufactures; this was done, and now there exists at South Kensington a museum, which is open free to working men, in which they can see the very best specimens of their various trades, and the grandest and most beautiful works in every branch of industrial art, from the bootmaker's masterpiece to the engineer's triumph. This, however, was only one of the means employed for the elevation of our manu- facturers, for the museum could only be seen by Lon- doners, or visitors to the metropolis. The one grand effect of the Exhibition was to put in motion a, scheme of art-education, which should embrace every individual in England who was not too old to learn. The secret of the failure of the School of Design had been this: when good designs were made, the public would not have them, because people preferred what they were accustomed to. There was no taste for beautiful ob- jects. There was a supply before a demand existed; bankruptcy and failure followed necessarily. But the new plan was this teach every one to draw and be- come acquainted with beautiful forms. When this is done and a demand exists for a superior class of works, the supply is sure to follow, in the ordinary way of trade. The whole of the Schools of Design were massed together, and a new department created, called The Department of Science and Art." The task proposed was to teach everybody to draw, as upon the Continent; this is being fast accomplished. In the first place, every schoolmaster and pupil-teacher in public schools is morally expected to learn to draw, where the op- portunity is given to him. To stimulate the school- master, the Committee of Council on Education give twice the pecuniary advantages to schoolmasters for teaching drawing, than to any two other subjects; besides this, art-masters have to teach them for half the fees they receive from other students. The object of this is, that schoolmasters should teach drawing in their schools the same as any other subject, and upon the schoolmaster really depends the future hope of England in art. WHAT WE HAVE ALREADY DONE. With all the machinery of art-education at work since 1851, I will tell you what we have done. So entire and so thorough is our system of art-education becoming, that our old teachers, the French, have sent an inspector to England, to look on and report by what means we are making such mighty strides. Already, in competition with all the world, an English architect has been selected to build a town hall at Hamburg, a cathedral at Hamburg, and another cathedral at Lille. It is now unquestioned, that in architecture we stand at the head of the world, and the Continent acknowledges it by employing our archi- tects to make their public buildings. In iron and brass work, Birmingham, Sheffield, and London are above every town in the world; in encaustic tiles, Minton of the Potteries has no rival anywhere. Our architectural stone-carving stands now above all stone- carving. I have not time to show you by testimony the proofs of all these statements, but they are simple, patent facts, unquestioned and unquestionable. All this has been done by little and little; by a perseverance which ensures success; by a self-denial on the part of workmen employed, which leads to triumph over materials and difficulties of all kinds. THE ADVANTAGES OFFERED. Many persons suppose drawing is an accomplishment, and that working men and women have no need of it. As an accomplishment they can never have time to acquire it, but they have time to acquire such a know- ledge of simple line and object drawing as will give them a new power and a little taste. And this is all we can offer. We propose to carpenters that they should learn to draw tables, cupboards, and stools, when they have to make them; to give them a little taste in the execution of such works, and enable them to understand drawings when a builder or an architect has to explain them. To the weaver and the designer we offer the means of acquiring the knowledge of form that should lead to improvement in the works they have to execute. To enable them to add that one quality to our manufactures which is wanted in them, viz., superior design, and in which they are alone inferior to continental manufactures. To the engineer and machinist we offer such a knowledge of machine drawing as would make them take an intelligent interest in their occupations, and where such a thing was possible to improve the machinery they have charge of. To all we offer the means of improving their position or taste. And if "no direct benefit follows instruction in drawing to each individual, it will be, at the least, a pleasing and improving exercise of the mind and eye, and by adding to the taste, add also to the intelligence of every individual. MISTAKEN NOTIONS CORRECTED. And now I will anticipate a question that will arise in the minds of many working men in this room. Many of you are this moment thinking that you never had a taste for drawing, and that therefore you could not learn if you began now. To this I will say, Don't believe it." I will give you my verdict, and ask you to take it for what it is worth and no more. I have been engaged in teaching for five years, and during that time I have taught above four thousand individuals, of both sexes and every rank and age. It has been my fortune, or misfortune, to have been a pioneer in every appointment I have yet held, so that I have always had raw material and not picked raw material to work upon. Yet in all my experience I have never found one individual who could not learn to draw. There- fore, get rid of that misty notion that any of you may have, of not being able to learn to draw. Every one of you can learn if you will, though you are right in the belief that it is unlikely all of you might become artists.

THE AUSTRALIAN SHEPHERD'S LIFE. The demand for shepherds is necessarily continually on the increase, and as it is an employment which com- mands a fair remuneration, it is rather eagerly sought. It has one peculiar advantage—that of being suited to almost any man of respectable character. The wages of this class of persons have risen considerably since the gold discoveries. There have been emigrants who aspired to be at once flockmasters instead of shepherds, with very little knowledge of what they were about to undertake. A spirited" young gentleman, a short time ago arrived at Sydney with a large capital, and a desk full of introductions. At the end of a month of fetes and dissipation he bought 10,000 sheep, but when he had paid for them he found that he had forgotten to secure a run, and was obliged to re-sell them imme- diately, at an enormous sacrifice, to escape being ut- terly ruined. Many men of good education and re- fined tastes, who had no capital to lose, fascinated at first by the attractions of the gold-field, but disappointed in their hopes, or unable to bear up against the ex- hausting toil, have taken to the "bush," and found competence and peace of mind as veritable shepherds, -the fevered life of a gold-digger being succeeded by the repose of the silent plains! Life in these vast soli- tudes has in it, for many, an inexpressible charm. The shepherd rises just before the sun, and after making a breakfast that would be a substantial dinner to an agricultural labourer, he follows the sheep all day, just keeping them in sight, letting them wander wherever they please, except into the thick scrub at noon he directs them towards water, where they camp or lie still in the shade. As evening closes in he turns his flock homewards, and arrives at his hut just as the sun is sinking below the horison. If he has a hutkeeper, or an assistant, his work is done for the day, and he may attend to the little garden which he has fenced in from the wilderness, or prepare the evening meal. If the dogs are good, no special attendance is required before midnight, when a watchman takes his seat in a box beside the sheep. We have heard of a young Oxford undergraduate, who, under the pressure of family difficulties, struck out his own path to independence, and now has the management of 3,000 sheep in one of the remotest sta- tions of Australia. He kills and cooks his own mutton, saves nearly the whole of his salary, and lives in plenty and content. The love of literature, which he has car- ried with him from the University, cheers his days and nights, and an occasional newspaper, and the regular packet of letters from home, are read by the light of a tallow lamp with a zeal that only a gentle shepherd" in the Australian wilds can know. Many of the great frazier lords of Australia, the owners of seventy or a undred square miles of pasture, and the proprietors of hundreds of horses, thousands of bullocks, and tens of thousands of sheep, lived formerly in a state almost as barbarous as civilised man could sink to-" Ancient Britons," as was once said of them, "in everything but paint." There are now many squatter families of superior education, who, emulous of the old country, have their orchards, plantations, and ornamental gar- dens, and are setting a good example to such of the shepherd lords as remain in their bachelor condition, and consequently retain many of those_ uncivilised habits which a long residence in the bush is too apt to engender.- Quarterly Review.

IftisallitnMMs jKtelfipra. ERRONEOUS ESTIMATE OF BOYS.—Douglas Jer- rold was considered a dull boy; at nine years of age he could scarcely read. Goldsmith was a very un- promising boy. Dryden, Swift, and Gibbon, in their earliest pieces, did not show any talent. The mother of Sheridan, herself a literary woman, pronounced him to be the dullest and most hopeless of her sons. The father of Barrow is said to have exclaimed, "If it please God to take away any of my children I hope it will be Isaac." The injudicious parent regarded the lad as a miracle of stupidity, but he afterwards proved the glory of his family. A CAPITAL IDEA.—" Captain Thomas," said his lordship (Collingwood) one day, our expenditure of water in the fleet is tremendous, and terribly ex- pensive getting it from Tetuan or Tangiers. Now stand here, sir, and watch those fellows coming to drink; you observe every one fills the tin and empties it, and goes away. He would do the same if it were twice as large, and would do no more if it were only half now, sir, reduce the parish-pot one-half, and let me know what has been the consumption of water." The next morning after the reduction, my lord inquired what was saved on the daily expenditure, when Captain Thomas answered, "About fifty gallons, my lord. A Romance of the Atlantic. IMPORTANT.—-I asked my friend how he could remember the absurd words at the end of forty years, and his reply I well recollect (says a popular writer) "What we learn early we never forget,, therefore it is the more important that youth should acquire the smallest possible amount of rubbish, for it is never cleared away; and nobody but has mourned over the folly of the morning malaria, enduring to aggravate the burden and heat of the day, the tares of boyhood choking or, at least, obstructing the after-life wheat." A PARISIAN LANDLADY.—Madame eats little, but she is a delicate feeder, and she and I perfectly agree on one point-we both love a change dearly. The same dish never appears twice in the same week, ex- cept by particular desire. Women are very observing. Madame probably saw, from my habits of life, that my finances were not very flourishing; and when she gave me my bill at the end of the month I was almost ashamed to pay it. There were several things to be learned in the kitchen. I saw how M. Blot made a potage au gras and a maigre, a puree of vegetables, a vol au vent, and, above all, a salad. I also learned how, with a handful of coals or charcoal, and a fourneau or range 40 inches long and 34 wide, a dinner could be served hot and fresh for a party of eight. The fuel consumed in this kitchen in a year would not keep going the kitchen of an hotel of the same size in Eng- land for one week.-Once a Week. THE CHINESE IN AUSTRALIA.—It is to the Chinese that the greatest of all the recent gold dis- coveries is due. The immigration-tax drove them to a sur- reptitious mode of entering the colony; and landing in Gurchan Bay, in South Australia, and taking a course thence over the frontier across the Grampian ranges, they came upon a deposit of marvellous richness' in the neighbourhood of Mount Ararat. In one of their first encampments, while picking up the roots of grass and prying for gold,_ they found the celebrated China- man's hole," which yielded 3,000 ounces in a few hours. This led to the greatest "rush which had ever been known at the gold-fields, for 60,000 people congregated there in a few weeks, and before a month had elapsed an immense town was systematically laid out, and shops, hotels, and restaurants arose, like the mystic trees of Indian jugglers; these were quickly followed by theatres, billiard and bagatelle rooms, a daily mail, and a daily newspaper. Thus, within the space of two months, a wild mountain gorge was converted into a teeming city, where frontages were nearly as valuable as in the heart of London. It is believed that the golden lead is traceable all the way from Ararat to Avoca, a distance of sixty miles, through a country flanked by auriferous ranges.—Ae Australian Co- lonies," in the Quarterly Review. ETIQUETTE AMIDST THE CANNON,- There was in the room a lady who had been besieged in the Residency at Lucknow and who had just arrived in Calcutta. From her I heard some strange tales re- specting the internal condition of the garrison. Whilst some were starving, half fed on unwholesome food, and drinking the most unpleasant beverages, others were living on the good things of the land, and were drinking champagne and moselle, which were stored up in such profusion that there were cartloads remaining when the garrison marched put. There was a good deal of eti- quette about visiting and speaking in the garrison. Strange, whilst cannon-shot and shell were rending the walls about their ears-whilst disease was knocking at the door of every room, that those artificial rules of life still exercised their force; that petty jealousy and "caste" reigned in the Residency; the "upper ten," with stoical grandeur, would die the upper ten," and as they fell composed their robes after the latest fashion.- My Diary in India. THE PAINTER AND THE CENSOR.—George Mor- land was in the habit of meeting at a tavern, where he spent his evenings, a very discreet, respectable man, turned fifty at least. This personage had frequently assumed the office of censor-general to the company, and his manners, added to a very correct demeanour, induced them to submit with a tolerably obedient grace. George used now and then, however, to kick," as he said, and then the old gentleman was always too hard- mouthed for him. This inequality at length produced an open rupture between the two; and one night the painter, finding the voice of the company rather against him, rose up in a seemingly dreadful passion, and appear- ing as if nearly choked with rage, muttered out at last that he knew what would hang the old rascal, notwith- standing his cant about morality. This assertion, uttered with so much vehemence, very much surprised the company and somewhat staggered the old* man, who called upon George sternly to know what he dared to say against him. The painter answered him with a repetition of the offensive words-" I know what would ha.ng him." After a violent altercation it was agreed upon all hands, and at the particular request of the old gentleman, that the painter should declare the worst. With great apparent reluctance George at length got up, and, addressing the company, said—"I have twice de- clared that I knew what would hang Mr and now, gentlemen, since I am called upon before you all, I'll expose it." He then very deliberately drew from his pocket a piece of lay-cord, and handing it across the table desired the old gentleman to try the experiment, and if it failed he would be content to be deemed a liar by the whole company. The joke was more than the old man was prepared for, and the company for the first time laughed right heartily at his expense. WATKJI IN PARIS.—There is one all-sufficient reason why the French use as little water in their houses as they can avoid. It is paid for by the bucket. The system of igouts, or drains, for supplying water to cleanse the streets, to fill fire-engines, and to carry off the rain-water is complete but every drop of water for household purposes is brought to the door in butts, and retailed by the water-carriers, who are a powerful cor- poration, numbering 10,000, with whose privileges no Government, since water-works were invented, has been strong enough to interfere. The Emperor is strong, and called absolute but he has many masters, not the least of whom is the water-carrier of Paris. Nothing could be easier than to supply Paris with water to the very attics, for the Seine has a greater fall than the Thames at Richmond-bridge but every attempt to introduce water-works is opposed by the water-carriers, who will not allow water to be taken from the fountains in greater quantities than in bucket- fuls, except by themselves, and it is a hazardous thing for a touch-and-go dynasty to throw 10,000 able-bodied men out of employment.-Once a Week.

DANDY DISPLAY OF JEWELLERY. Jewels are an ornament to women, but a blemish to men. They bespeak either effeminacy or a love of display. The hand of a man is honoured in working, for labour is his mission and the hand that wears its riches on its finger has rarely worked honestly to win them. The best jewel a man can wear is his honour; let that be bright and shining, well set in prudence, and all others must darken before it. But as we are savages, and must have some silly trickery to hang about us, a little, but very little, concession may be made to our taste in this respect. I assure you that I am quite serious when I disadvise you from the use of nose-rings, gold anklets, and hat-bands studded with jewels; for when I see an incredulous young man of the nineteenth century dangling from his watch-chain a dozen silly "charms" (often the only ones he possesses), which have no other use than to give a fair coquette a legitimate subject on which to approach to closer intimacy, and which are revived from the lowest superstitions of dark ages, and some- times darker races, I am quite justified in believing that some African chieftain, sufficiently rich to cut a dash in London, might introduce with success the most peculiar fashions of his own country. However this may be, there are already sufficient extravagancies prevalent among our young men to attack. The precious stones are reserved for ladies, and even our scarf-pins are better without them. English taste has also the superiority over that of the Continent in con- demning the wearing of orders, clasps, and ribbons, except at court or on official occasions. If these are really given for merit they will add nothing to our fame; if, as in nine cases out of ten, they are bestowed merely because the recipient has done his duty, they may impose upon fools, but will, if anything, provoke only awkward inquiries from sensible men. If it be permitted to flaunt our bravery or our learning on our coat-collar, as much as to cry, like little J-ack Horner, See what a good boy am I!" I cannot, for my part, discover why a curate should not carry his silver tea- pot about with him, or Mr. Morison enlarge his phylacteries with a selection from the one million cases of "almost miraculous cures." mujmwii'n ii 'i >.wnnmwiag

A CANINE FILIBUSTER. I remember, several times on this march when the detachment had made some tempory halt (writes Samuel Absalom, in "Experience of a Filibuster," in the Atlantic Monthly), seeing a grim-faced dog, of the terrier species, trot along the line to the front of the column, where we rangers stood, and then, satisfied seemingly that all was well ordered, turned himself round and trot back to the rear again. He did this with such a look and air, that it struck me he felt him- self in some way responsible for our party. He was, indeed, if the tales current about him were true, the most remarkable character in all that very variegated conglomerate of characters which made up the filibuster army. He had appeared in the camp long before, -n coming, some said, from the Costa Ricans, with whom he became disgusted on account of their bad behaviour in battle on several occasions when he was there to see. After this desertion, if it were thus, he followed the Americans faithfully, through good and bad fortune, retreat or victory .always going into battle with them,—where he actually seemed to enjoy himself,— trotting about amidst the whewing of bullets, the up- tossing of turf, and the .outcries of wounded men, with calm heart, and tail erect,—envied by the bravest even. On an occasion when General Walker was attacking the Costa Ricans in Rivas, the dog entered the plaza ahead of the rest, and, finding there one of his own species, he forthwith seized him, and shook him, and put him to flight howling,—giving an omen so favour- able, that the "Greasers were driven out of the town with ease by the others. Even his every-day life was sublime, and elevated above the habit of vulgar dogs. He allowed no man to think himself his master, or attach him individually by liberal feeding or kind treat- ment, but quartered indiscriminately amongst the foot, sometimes with one company, sometimes with another, taking food from whoever gave it, but showing little gratitude, and despising caresses or attempts at famili- arty. He seemed, indeed, to consider himself one amongst the rest,-one and somewhat, as they say; and his sole apparent tie which his human friends seemed to be the delight which he took in seeing them kill or killed. With this penchant, it was said, he never missed a battle, and went out with every detach- ment that left the camp to see that none should escape him unaware. But enough of him, strange dog, or devil. He was afterwards shot through the head in the attack on Rivas.

A PERUVIAN LOVE STORY. Few creations of fiction are more thoroughly dramatic or invested with a deeper and more general interest, than the following episode in Peruvian history, related by Mr. Hill in his recently-published Travels in Peru and Mexico." The conjecture may be a rash one, but we have a shrewd suspicion that the old gentleman was aware of the plot from the beginning It is said that Huasca, the Inca of Peru, who reigned at the beginning of the sixteenth century, and who was remarkable for his love of the arts, especially those con- nected with the improvement of his capital, proclaimed that whoever would find means of conveying water with facility to his palace and to Cuzco should receive in marriage his youngest daughter, then a beautiful girl in the first bloom of womanhood. This offer was no sooner made than a young man appeared, called Hassan, who declared himself capable of performing the great work. He was immediately furnished with as many men, and all the materials which he thought proper to demand, and the work was commenced. While the work, however, was in progress an accident occurred, which damped the ardour of the youth for the accomplishment of what he had undertaken, and seemed to overthrow all expectations of its ever being completed. Among the numerous attendants upon the workmen for the preparation of their food, and the care of the camp in which they dwelt, there appeared a young giri of great beauty, who, while attending upon her father, was observed by the youthful engineer, who became so violently enamoured that his attention was distracted and turned aside from the object upon which his mind had been hitherto bent. He saw that the accomplishment of the work he had undertaken would result in his marriage with the daughter of the Inca, and this though accompanied by all the honours the sovereign could bestow, would deprive him of that which he valued more than life, and tie him to a bride whom he had never seen and had now ceased to desire to know. Owing to this state of Hassan's mind, neglect, lan- guor, and disorder reigned in the encampment of the workmen, which at first seemed to every one to arise from a conviction on the part of the engineer that, the accom- plishment of the work being beyond his power, all idea of carrying it to a completion was consequently aban- doned. Some time passed without any change, during which Hassan had frequent opportunities of meeting the young attendant to whom he had become attached. This, however, was by-and-by remarked by the people in such a manner as to induce the young girl to retire and return no more to the camp, distracting still more the mind of the engineer, who was unable to ob- tain any more information concerning her. The confusion into which everything was now thrown became known to the Inca, who soon learned also the real cause of the engineer's default, -and determined to take his revenge in a manner which we should think at this day among ourselves rather severe-namely, by putting to death the subject who had so grossly and so openly insulted his sovereign. The character of his offence, however, was such that Hassan was sent for before his execution, and appeared guarded in the pre- sence of the Inca, who sat upon his throne surrounded by his nobles. Huasca, happening to be a man of mo- derate passions, asked the culprit, in the presence of his nobles, whether he had anything to say before his execution, in extenuation of the crime he had com- mitted by treating his sovereign with contempt. To this the young man replied that he had only to thank his sovereign for all the favours he had received, and more especially for that which he was about to re- ceive, which would place him beyond the reach of such I suffering as he had endured since he had become ac- quainted with the innocent cause of his misfortune. At the moment that the Inca was about to commit him to the tender mercies of the executioners, the girl we have mentioned suddenly appeared among the crowd of nobles, dressed as she had been in the camp of the workmen, and rushing into the centre of the hall, ex- claimed Stay, Inca! Arrest the hand of justice for a moment, while I put one question to the unfortunate culprit. It shall be such as the Inca will not disapprove." From the moment of this strange apparition, until the demand of the girl, there was not a sound heard. The whole of the nobles present remained motionless and silent. But, had no embarrassment overwhelmed them, the presence of their sovereign would have re- strained equally their words and acts. Huasca, who seemed alone unmoved, nodded assent to the demand of the girl, who now marched up to the youth, and, laying her right hand upon his left shoulder, and standing a little on one side that his countenance might be well seen by the Inca, Young man of the hills where the Inca is ever known! Subject of Huasca! Hast thou chosen the child of the vales in preference to the daughter of thy sovereign ?" To which the youth, after steadfastly regarding the Inca replied. "The will of the great source of light be done! The sentence of the Inca is just." Then, turning to the girl, he added, I go now with joy to dwell where I shall await thy coming, to possess thee for ever." But wherefore could'st thou not," then said the girl, accomplish the work which thou had'st undertaken ?" "It had been done," replied the youth, "had the labour been accompanied with the hope of. possessing thee." At this reply the young girl, suddenly throwing off her upper garments, which had hidden those which would have betrayed her true character, and taking the entranced youth by the hand, advanced up to the foot of the throne of the Inca, and exclaimed:— Great father of the children of the sun, dost thou not recognise thy child ? I whom thou lovest as thy- self, demand the remission of the sentence against the youth now bowed down before thee, until it can be known whether the great work which he has under- taken can be accomplished or not." Inca Huasca, whose affection for his daughter was above all other feelings, electrified by the occurrence, signified his assent to the proposal. A few months after this the great aqueduct was completed, and the engineer and the princess became man and wife.

THE EXECUTIONER OF KING CHARLES I. The following curious dialogue, in metre, copied from a contemporary broadside in the British Museum, has been published in Notes and Queries, and is pro- bably unique. The date of publication assigned to it by Thomason, the collector of the King's Pamphlets," is the 3rd July, 1649. The sheet is surmounted with a rude woodcut of the executioner, Richard Brandon, in the act of striking off the head of King Charles, whose hat, apparently from the force of the blow, is thrown up into the air. Between the Dialogue and the Epitaph, there is also a representation of a coffin, bearing three heraldic shields on its side. Perhaps the long-disputed question, "Who was the executioner of Charles I. ?" may be determined by this curious, con- temporary broadside. Brandon died on Wednesday, 20th of June, 1649, and was buried on the following day in Whitechapel churchyard. The burial register of St. Mary Matfelon has the entry on the 21st, Buried in the churchyard, Richard Brandon, a rag- man in Rosemary-lane;" to which has been added: "This R. Brandon is supposed to have cut off the head of Charles I." It is said that the large fee (301.) de- manded by Brandon for his services on the fatal 30th of January was paid to him in crown pieces, the whole of which, upon reaching his lodgings, he immediately handed over to his wife. A DIALOGUE OR A DISPUTE BETWEEN THE LATE HANGMAN AND DEATH. HANGMAN What, is my glass run ? DEATH: Yes, Richard Brandon. HANGMAN.. How now, stern land-lord, must I out of door ? I pray you, Sir, what am I on your score ? I cannot at this present call to mind, That I with you am anything behind. DEATH. Yes, Richard Brandon, you shall shortly know There's nothing paid for you, but you still owe The total sum, and I am come to crave it; Provide yourself, for I intend to have it. HANGMAN. Stay, Death, thou'lt force me stand upon my guard! Methinks this is a very slight reward Let's talk awhile, I value not thy dart, For, next thyself, I can best act thy part. DEATH. lay down thy axe, and cast thy ropes away, 'Tis I command, 'tis thou that must obey Thy part is play'd, and thou go'st off the stage, The bloodiest actor in this present age. HANGMAN. But, Death, thou lcnow'st, that I for many years, As by old Tyburn's records it appears, Have monthly paid my taxes unto thee, Ty'd up in twisted hemp, for more security; And now of late I think thou put'st me to't, When none but Brandon could be found to I gave the blow caus'd thousand hearts to ache, Nay, more than that, it made three kingdoms quake: Yet in obedience to thy pow'rful call, Down went that Cedar, with some shrubs, and all, To satisfy thy ne'er-contented lust: Now, for reward, thou tell'st me that I must Lay down my tools, and with thee pack from hence Grim Sir, you give me a fearful recompense. DEATH. Brandon, no more, make haste, I cannot stay, Thou know'st thyself how ill I brooke delay Thou hast sent ten thousand to the grave, What's that to me, 'tis thee I now must have; 'Tis not the King, nor any of his Peers Cut off by thee, can add unto thy years Come, perfect thy accompts, make right thy score Old Charon stays, perhaps he'll set thee o'er. HANGMAN. Then I must go, which many going sent; Death, thou did'st make me but thy instrument, To execute, and run the hazard too Of all thou did'st engage me for to do, In blood for thee how oft did I carouse, Being chief-master of thy slaughter-house For those the plague did spare, if once I catcht' 'em With axe or rope I quickly had dispatcht' 'em. Yet now, at last, of life thou wilt bereave me, And as thou flnd'stme, so thou mean'st to leave me But those black stains, I in thy service got, Will still remain, though I consume and rot. Strike home, all conq'ring Death I, Brandon, yield, Thou wilt, I see, be Master of the field. EPITAPH. Who do you think lies buried here ? One that did help to make hemp dear The poorest subject did abhor him, And yet his King did kneel before him He would his master not betroy, Yet he his Master did destroy And yet no Judas In records 'tis found Judas had thirty pence, he thirty pound.

"LOOTING" IN THE INDIES. Just where we turned into the court there was a stone-topped well somewhat in the shade, and close to it was one store-room, the door of which had been left open or forced in by a marauder. On going in we found it literally filled with wooden cases, which were each crammed with nicely-packed china or enormous vases, bowls, goblets, cups of the finest jade. Others contained nothing but spoons, hookah mouthpieces, and small drinking vessels, and saucers of the same valuable material. I do not in the least exaggerate, when I say there must have been at least a camel-load of these curiosities, of which Stewart and myself, and one or two other officers, selected a few pieces, and put them aside near the well. It was well we did so, for, just as we had put them aside, the shadow of a man fell across the court from the gateway a bayonet was advanced cautiously, raised evidently to the level of the eye, then came the Enfield, and finally the head of British soldier. "None here but friends shouted he. Come along, Bill. There's only some offsers, and here's a lot of places no one has bin to Enter three or four banditti of H.M.'s — Regiment. Faces black with powder; crossbelts speckled with blood; coats stuffed out with all sorts of valuables. And now commenced the work of plunder under our very eyes. The first door resisted every sort of violence till the rifle-muzzle was placed to the lock, men rushed in with a shout, and soon they came out with caskets of jewels, iron boxes and safes, and. wooden bowls full of arms crusted with gold and precious stones .One fellow, having broken open a leaden-looking lid, which was in reality of solid silver, drew out an armlet of emeralds, and diamonds, and pearls, so large, that I really believed they were not real stones, and they formed part of a chandelier chain. What will your honour give me for these ?" said he. « m take a hun- dred rupees on chance." Oh, wretched fate I had not a penny in my pocket, nor had any of us. No one has in India. His servants keep his money. My Simon was far away in the quiet camp. He hunted through my clothes every morning, and neither gold mohur nor silver rupee was permitted to remain in any of my pockets, and so I said, "I will give you a hundred rupees but it is right to tell you if the stones are real they are worth a great deal more." Bedad, I won't grudge them to your honour, and you're welcome to them for the hundred rupees. Here, take them!" Well, then, you must come to me at the Head-quar- ters' camp to-night, or give me your name and company, and I'll send the money to you." Oh faith, an' your honour, how do I know where I'd be this blissed night ? It's maybe dead I'd be, wid a bullet in me body. I'll take two gold mores"—(mohurs at 32s. each)—" and a bottle of rum on the spot. But sure it's not safe to have any but ready money transactions these times." There was no arguing against the propriety of the views entertained by our friend, and he put the chain of nobbly emeralds, and diamonds, anoearls, into the casket, and I saw my fortune vanish (I have been told that these stones were subsequeiy sold by an officer to a jeweller for 7,500?.) As thman turned to eave the place, as if struck by compun;ion at his own severity, he took two trmkets from a tr? in the casket and said, There, gentlemen, I'd not ke to lave vou without a little keepsake. Take whicLver you like, and you can give me somethingmother the. Russell's DLarlf in India.

AN EVENTFUL AUGUST IOLlDAY. I am a Cockney, born an< bred, aid I don't care who knows it. My professki compels me to live for eleven months in the year ?ithin the sound of Bow 1 jells. It is not pleasant tooe so meved up so long, of course, but it is not a degidation, as some suppose it, nor even is it without its advantages. I think I appreciate the country durir; my August holiday to a degree which no one not "n city pent "the rest of i ^r+Caii ^ve an idea of. I have experienced six- and-tnirty Augusts, and all, ave one, of almost com- plete happiness Thevery extraordinary and eerie circumstance which it my purpose upon this occasion to record, did happeiin a legitimate locality- upon a mountain tarn far up irthe Western Highlands. Its occurrence marked the on exception that I made just now to my otherwise thre dozen happy Augusts. 1 spent my summer holiday in'28 with two very dear triends of my own age, mere Coneys like myself, but whom, like myself also, the sigh; and sounds of nature inexpressibly charmed, and tin cataracts and splen- < dours of the hill-tops "haunte like a passion." It was the fourth holiday that weroung fishermen-for fishing was our only sport—had spent together, and the scene of our enjoyment wa for the first time among the sea lakes of Argyleshir, It is pleasant to me to recall the memory of those ir-back sunny days, nor, though I cannot stand so iany hours in the creamy trout-streams as of old, noi throw a line with such precision, do I give up hope oiseeing others like them. That is to say, Collett and I ^ill, I trust; but as for poor Charley Falconer, our other companion in that breezy ramble of which I Speak, mm Death has heucked" him long ago, and he lies "1 the dark river. We three, then, staying' at the little Highland town, upon the sea-loch, where there was nothing but a Presbyterian church where they spoke Gaelic, thought it no sin to spend our Sunday on the moor- lands or elsewhere in that fair regitis with our dinners in our pockets, and with a fiasifull of moun- tain-dew, to mix with the water of he mountain- stream, which is said to be brackish. One splendid unlawful" morning we took an excursica longer than usual across the loch, where there is a Royal Ferry which must needs ply every day, and UTI the glorious two-peaked mountain opposite, whose n.me-since it was thus desecrated—I will not here divuge. Save for the bees that made solemn anthem to us f'3 we climbed the heathery slopes, and the whir of the stirtled grouse that sped occasionally athwart the cathelral arch of heaven, all nature was indeed "as quiet <s a church" -quieter even than some churches one rea(s of, such as St. George's-in-the-East. I am sure we 'elt so, and hat; we were doing no particular harm. Presen ly, and when we had got a great way up the mountain we came upon a still blue tarn, vith rushes at one end, betwixt which a little burn ran taping and laughing like a lad for the first time his oYn master, who longs to mix with the great world before him; but the other end was in shadow under crags. There was a small island in the middle with heathery linolls upon it, and Oh, that we had a boat!" cried CoLett, whose darling dream it always was-which, however, has by no means been fulfilled--to possess some little secluded territory of his own, where none but his friends could get at him. Let us three build a hut there, anl spend all our days." "We can spend to-day," saidl, "to begin with, at all events, for yonder is a boat among' the rushes." My own heart was set upon fishing, and I remembered with regret, I fear, that it was Sunday, and that, besides, we had no fishing-rod. It was quite a surprise to find a pretty pleasure-boat in such a place -put there, as I guess, by some rich man who owned the whole mountain-and holding three quite comfort- ably. It was only tethered to the shore by a little iron chain, but that was padlocked; so, unwilling to do violence, unless it was absolutely necessary—for to land upon the island we were thoroughly determined-we looked about us for some legitimate authority for un- loosing the boat, and, far away to westward, discovered a little smoke quite blue, which presently as we drew near it, proved to be from a peat-fire in a bothy, where there was an old weather-beaten Highlander cooking some rather disagreeable-looking food. Was he the keeper of that boat f' we asked. He knew enough of English to tell us that he was, and that he would not let us have it. "Was there no other boat ?" asked we, hoping to make use. of the great prin- •; ciple of competition. He' answered with a grim ijn- pleasant smile that there was not; and that one bo&t&i, on the Dhuloch was enough for all the people that w^t/; like to want it. Would he have a little whisky" e inquired; and would he let us have the boat y,rx" hour now?" No; not even now and he entered, Jj way of apology, into the various conscientious rea»s« £ that prevented him from doing so, which were far too numerous and obscure to be here repeated. In the end, it cost us a couple of shillings and some tobacco before we could get back to the tarn with the key of the boat-chain. He gave it to us, even thc-n, with some remark about the Dhuloch not being very canny for people to go out upon alone but we under- stood how to manage the sculls well enough ourselves, and did not wish to employ a boatman, which it was doubtless the intention of his remark to make us do. Collett and I unloosed the shallop eagerly, and jumped in at once; but Falconer, who had complained of the heat and fatigue of the ascent, and had not accom- panied us to the bothy, would not come in for awhile, but lay down on the bank and watched us as we paddled up the little sheet of water to the purple island, than which I never saw a fairer sight on canvas, or conceived in any dream. How awful look those crags," said I, "in contrast to this sunny middle of the lake." They do indeed," replied Collett; "as dark as death." But nothing was really further from our mind than any thought of death. Comel" hallooed we, tc come, Falconer* this place is such a jolly spot to sit in"—we were but cock- neys, as I said, and used strange adjectives—and when he nodded, as much as to say, I will," we rowed back again, and took him in. He said the sun oppressed him, and lay down in the bottom of the boat at the stern with his straw-hat over his eyes. I stood up in the bows and steered the boat by voice, shouting, "pull your right," or pull your left," to Collett, who was sculling, and had of course his back to me. There was not a ripple upon the water. The silence, except for the stroke of the paddles, was unbroken. The sun was almost directly over us but there was not a bird in the sky. Such noonday solitude and stillness I never before experienced, notwithstanding that I had two friends-or at least one friend—so close beside me. Presently, to my extreme wonder, I saw another skiff shoot noiselessly out from under the dark shadow of the crags, and make towards us. There were two men in her, one rowing, and one standing in her bows, as in our own. I called to Collett, who turned round and uttered an exclamation of astonishment. We have no business here," said I, "and I suppose there will be a row. Why, the old scoundrel deceived us; and there was another boat on the tarn, you see, after all." I pointed with my walking-stick as I spoke, and the figure in the bows of the advancing skiff seemed to do the same. Then I began to doubt its being a real boat; not that I had- the least notion of any- thing supernatural, but that I called to mind some strange stories I had hearclof, the effects of reflection or refraction, whichever it is (for I never was much of a scientific person), and concluded that the strange appearance was only a mirage of ourselves. I do not know how it was, but neither Collett nor I .was able to observe the figure very accurately, although they came quite near enough for us to do so. I do not know whether they were like my companion and myself or not, but I saw plainly enough that the man in the bows had a walking-stick similar to mine,. and while looking towards! us, was pointing with it to the bottom of his own boat. This action was so continued and striking, that I called Collett's attention to it/and bade him wake Fal- coner with his foot—who still occupied the position I have mentioned in our stern—because it seemed to me as if these strangers were making fu:a I was so occupied with the man standing up, that it never struck me to observe if there was a third person lying in their boat or not, nor, perhaps, from its position could I have done so. Falconer did not move when he was thus nudged; and when Collett, stooping down, took off the straw hat that concealed his features, we peaceived that our dear Charley was (l. dead man! He had passed away from us without making the least sign, poor fellow! Agonised as I was, I could not help casting one glance towards the towards the mysterious boat and her silent crew, iwho had brought us, as it seemed, this terrible news but she was no longer to be seen. There was not even the trace of her keel upon the placid waters. She could not possibly have got to land or out of sight, in such an instant. I looked do wit into the clear blue tarn involuntarily, but my eyes only met my own haggard visage and the refiex of our solitary skiff. t 'qi \Yc rowed ashore, and carried our dear tnend to the little bothy, where the old man received us with more of sympathy, if less of horrified wonder, than I had expected of him. He said he had warned us before we went that the tarn was uncanny. And so we three went down the mountain with our sad burden to the Ferry; and Charley halconer was laid in the Highland kirkyard, f»r 'rom mends and home. It is not, therefore, strange August holiday seems to have less of sun upon it m the memory of two old men, than our other summer rambles.— Chambers s Journal. No communications can be inserted unless authenticated by the nwrne and address of the writer.