a charge against a poacher, but who, as the judge happens to know, has killed his aunt, whose sole heir he was-not by poison or knife, be it understood, but by a plan evidently borrowed from "La Joie fait Peur" of Madame Girardin. He merely gave her to understand that her son, who is absent in China, has suddenly returned, and then he comes into her presence and cries, without a word of warning, "Your son is dead!" which happened to be actually the case. The unhappy mother died from the effects of the shock, and her adroit assassin inherited her estate. The judge taxes the young man with his crime; he becomes infuriated, and, seizing a pistol that is lying on the desk, he fires at his accuser, and misses him, whereupon the judge orders him into custody for an attempt at murder. "Twenty years of the galleys!" exclaims the judge, exultingly; "and now for my breakfast-je déjeune à midi." As will be seen by the above outline of the plot, this little piece possesses a good deal of force and originality. The dialogue also is terse and telling. The "Million de M. Pomard" resembles too much the "Bons Villageois" of Sardou. Like that brilliant comedy, it treats of the miseries of a wealthy proprietor from Paris, who seeks to establish himself in a rural district. It was very well acted, and is quite amusing, notwithstanding the lack of novelty in the leading idea.

The other theatres are gradually awakening from their summer lethargy. A new piece called "The Man with the White Rabbit" has been brought out at the Palais Royal. It is simply a broad farce, without any pretensions to literary merit. Such a play must be very funny to be successful, and "The Man with the White Rabbit" is not very funny. The Comédie Française has at last announced a semi-novelty, in the shape of a revival of "Baron Lafleur," a comedy in three acts, and in verse, by Camille Doucet. Coquelin is to play the leading role in this revival, which is to take place the latter part of this week. Membrée, the composer of those very heavy operas, "L'Esclave" and "Les Parias," has finished two more, which are entitled respectively" Colomba" and "The Red Monk." The libretto of the former is taken from Merimée's novel of the same name.

LUCY H. HOOPER.

OUR LONDON LETTER. THAT of late best-abused of artists, Mr. Millais, must have made a tidy little sum by his brush, and he seems to be laying it out in a substantial way. Just now he is building a fine mansion not far from the Duke of Bedford's at South Kensington, and it will cost, it is said, over twenty thousand pounds before it is finished.

There are misprints and misprints. Some are laughable, others are merely irritating. One of the most amusing I have ever seen appears in a London weekly this week. The paper in question contains an article on present-day chivalry, and in the course of it the famous lines of Lovelace

"Yet this inconstancy is such
As you, too, shall adore:

I could not love you, sweet, so much,
Loved I not honor more "-

are printed as follows:

"Yet this inconstancy is such

As you, too, shall adore:

I could not love you, sweet, so much, Loved I not Hannah Moore!"

Some wag of a compositor is obviously responsible for the last two words; maybe he has been revenging himself on the contributor for his illegible handscript. But imagine that gentleman's feelings!

The successful young songstress, Mademoiselle Thalberg, is, I am told, about to undertake an operatic tour in the English provinces in conjunction with Mesdemoiselles Albani and Belocca, and with the indefatigable Sir Julius Benedict as conductor. "Indefatigable Sir Julius," I may well say. There never was a more favorite musician among the fair sex than he. Early in the day he gives lessons at any number of young ladies' private schools, and in the evening we find him wielding the bâton at some concert or festival miles and miles away.

Messrs. Hamilton's panorama of America is at present" located" at the Great St. James's Hall, but I am sorry to say it is not drawing good houses. The fact is, the days of panoramas are past, just as are the days of menageries and Punch-and-Judy shows. Yet many of Messrs. Hamilton's views are very cleverly painted, and they have, moreover, secured a right genial and versatile "guide," Mr. Arthur Mattheson, the librettist, a gentleman pretty well known, I am given to understand, in your Empire City.

"I had at that time done little else dramatically than compositions of a comic character, which, supported as they then were, produced far more effect than their intrinsic merits in any way warranted, and I felt considerable timidity in approaching the presence of the manager. However, I opened out the subject, dilated on its attractive qualities, suggested a suitable cast, and was altogether getting on swimmingly when the inevitable 'terms' came on the tapis, together with the no less inevitable disclosure of the day of the week. I shall never forget the sudden change in the countenance of my hitherto most amiable friend. He rose, shut-to his desk with a bang, and-well, he did not exactly order me out, but he so convincingly let me see that the interview was closed, that, like the sensible dog in the play, I descended the managerial staircase with alacrity.

"The following day I received a summons to the great man's presence. He was once more all geniality. It was Saturday, and, despite its being the one day in the week on which one would imagine a manager would not smile, my friend in question did smile, and handed me a check with the blandest cordiality.

"And now,' I ventured to remark, having pocketed the check as a sage precaution- and now, may inquire what there is so terrible about Friday as a-'

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'Don't!' he exclaimed, loudly; ' don't mention that day to me. I hate it. I never produce a new piece on a Friday; I never-’

"Oh, indeed!' I replied, rather knowingas I thought. How about Boxing-day? The Christmas pieces come out on that day, I believe. When it falls on a Friday, do you postpone your production?'

"I shall never forget the look of mingled contempt and scorn which overspread the manager's countenance at this question of mine. We didn't speak for months.

As I write, the first promenade concert (atly, Covent Garden) of the season is on the point of being given. This year, as last, the concerts are to be under the direction of the wellknown refreshment contractors, Messrs. Gatti. For the opening night, Signor Arditti has arranged "a grand selection "-as the advertisements put it" from Wagner's 'Lohengrin,' for full orchestra and military bands," while the principal vocalists are Mesdemoiselles Bianchi and Christino and Mr. (not Signor, mark you!) V. Fabrini.

Miss Florence Marryat - or rather Mrs. Ross-Church-the editor of London Society, one of the best paying of our magazines, has a daughter who is taking to the stage. The young lady's name is Eva, and very shortly she will make her debut at London-by-the-Sea, otherwise Brighton. If she is only as clever an elocutionist as her mother, she will soon make her way.

The French edition of Poe's "Raven," by Stéphane Mallarmé, which you referred to a week or two ago, is a ponderous tome, indeed. My friend Mr. Ingram has had one of the volumes (only two hundred and forty have been printed) presented to him; this, like its fellows, is two feet high by eighteen inches broad. Manet's illustrations are wonderfully weird and imaginative; they remind one of Doré.

By-the-way, Mr. Ingram's edition of Poe is in its third edition.

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A few days hence Mr. John S. Clarke will appear as star" at the Haymarket, and, byand-by, Miss Neilson will appear there as Juliet. The veteran author of "Box and Cox," Mr. Madison Morton, is busy on a three-act comedy for the same theatre, and Mr. Henry J. Byron and W. S. Gilbert are likewise writing pieces for it. In his piece Mr. Byron will himself take part. From all which you will see that Mr. Sothern intends to inaugurate his management thoroughly well.

I mentioned Mr. Byron just now-a fact which reminds me that he has written a most amusing article on "Professional Superstitions" for the first number of the forthcoming London Magazine. Let me give you a "plum" out of it. Describing an interview with a certain manager, whose unswervable rule was never to transact any theatrical business on a Friday, he says:

"I have since then never met but one manager who would hear of producing a new play on a Friday, and he did so because it was his benefit. It was a melodrama of my own, and it ran seven months. But, of course, that was only the exception that proved the rule."

Mr. T. Adolphus Trollope has given us, within the last few days, two volumes of his short tales. The first is called "Diamond cut Diamond; a Story of Tuscan Life." There are others entitled "Vittoria Accoramboni," "The Golden Book of Torcello," "The Duchess Veronica," etc. Messrs. Chapman & Hall are the publishers. Another work which has just been issued is "The Abode of Snow: Observations on a Journey from Chinese Thibet to the Indian Caucasus, through the Upper Valleys of the Himalaya." This is by Mr. Andrew Wilson, and is published by Messrs. Blackwood. I should tell you here that an anonymous novel recently issued by Messrs. Bentley-it is called "Comin' thro' the Rye" -is rumored to be by Miss Broughton. The Athenæum says there is a great deal of power in it; so there is-and it is certainly RhodaBroughtonish power, which is by no means easy to imitate. Who can depict fashionable lovers so well as she?

The Scotch folk remain as "unco guid" as ever-that is, the few of them who still reside ayont the Tweed. When they come over here their intense piousness is soon rubbed off in their desperate struggles to get on, and it is not long before they fall into our wicked ways. However, in "the land of the mountain and the flood" itself, they still have a strong objection to theatres, as you will guess when I tell you that they have at the present moment only eight or ten in their midst. There are, for instance, three in Glasgow (but then Glasgow is a very "fast" city), one in Edinburgh, one in Greenock, one in Dundee, and one in Aberdeen. Perth has no theatre at all, and within the last few days it has been agitated to its very centre because a couple of daring and ungodly individuals have been en

Melter Moss in "The Ticket-of-Leave Man" at

the Olympic, told me a little while ago. At the time the Edinburgh Theatre Royal was burnt down he was the lessee of the local operetta-house, the only other place of amusement in "Auld Reekie." Naturally, he was not over-sorry at the calamity; I won't say that he actually rejoiced, but some of the "pros" under him did, for they argued, you see, that the canny inhabitants were now bound to come and see them. As for his friends outside, they poked him slyly in the ribs, called him "lucky dog," and hinted jocularly that he himself had applied the match which had set the rival house in flames. In the end, Mr. Eldred was so impressed with the idea that his fortune was about to be made that the evening after the conflagration he had his doors barricaded, hired extra money-takers, box-keepers, and check-takers-in short, made every necessary preparation for the grand "rush" and "crush" that was expected. Ah, at that time he little knew how superstitious Scotchmen are! The curtain rose to the worst house he ever had; he could have counted the audience on his fingers! The good folk of Scotland's capital looked upon the destruction of the Theatre Royal as a warning to them. "It's a visitation of the Almighty," declared they. "Na, na," said one worthy old shopkeeper, "I'll ne'er gang to a theatre again; it's the deil's hoose, that is it!"

This is an age of testimonials. Why, was it not only the other day that a society was founded, the members of which were each to receive at stated intervals a service of plate, a valuable gold watch, or something of that kind, subscribed for by the other members? The latest testimonial talked about is one for Dr. Charles Mackay, the well-known song-writer and journalist (who does not know his "Cheer, Boys, Cheer?"). The learned doctor is well on in life (I need hardly remind you that he lived in New York for some years), and few in their literary capacity have served their country better. Doubtless the testimonial will be a substantial one; indeed, the names of the committee would insure that. Here are a few of them: the Dukes of Westminster and Sutherland, the Marquises of Lorne and Hartington, Earl Russell, Professor Tyndall, and Mr. Theodore Martin.

Mr. Norman Lockyer, the distinguished astronomer and editor of Nature, is, I am told, about to start on a very pleasant mission. He has been deputed by our government to visit the various courts of Europe and lay before them the advisability of their sending exhibits" to the forthcoming exhibition of scientifie instruments at South Kensington. As he will have carte blanche, our astronomer rejoices muchly, to use Artemus's phrase.

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Didn't I tell you, some weeks ago, that Mr. Ingram is engaged on a lengthy life of the author of The Raven?" Any way, such is the case, and I think Mr. Stoddard will be

somewhat disconcerted when it appears. For why? That gentleman has declared positively that Poe was never in France; but it so happens that Mr. Ingram has in his possession a full account of the poet's adventures there. He dictated it to a lady-friend as he lay, as

AN IMPROVED SCREW-PROPELLER.

AMONG the numberless inventions upon

the merits of which naval engineers and architects are called upon to decide, those relating to improvements in the form or general construction of the screw-propeller occupy a prominent place. In spite of the active efforts of mechanics and inventors, however, it rarely occurs that their plans possess sufficient merit to commend their adoption; hence, when any worthy plan is submitted, the traveling public, together with

those who are directly interested in all improvements in mechanical engineering, would do well to inform themselves regarding its special merits. Among the earliest and most forcible of the many objections raised against the screw or fan-propeller was, that it occupied a place so directly in the wake of the ship as not to be able to utilize the full resisting power of the waters-in other words, that the screw, from its very location, must needs act upon a current of water flowing away from it. Nor is this objection without force, and hence it is that many of the inventions to which we have alluded are designed to meet it. Another serious objection to the screw as a means of propulsion is, that when broken, as it is liable to be by contact with ice, floating spars, or even large fish, there is no remedy but to return to port and go upon the docks. An instance of this character is just at hand, foreign dispatches having within a few days announced that one of the ocean-steamers so injured her screw, by com

ing in contact with a whale, that she was unable to proceed on her voyage, but returned to Liverpool for repairs. It was with a view to overcome these objections that Mr. Griffiths suggested the plan here illustrated, and as the English Admiralty regarded it of sufficient merit to deserve a thorough trial, and as that trial proved a success, we are induced to direct the attention .of our readers to the subject.

As described in The Engineer, Mr. Griffiths plan is to put the screw into a casing of fifty by seventy-five per cent. larger area than that of the screw-disk, and provided with an opening underneath, so that the screw is not supplied with water that would otherwise flow into the space left by the ship, nor does the ship rob it of any of the water which it requires to force back in order to give the full forward thrust. Then, as is evident by an examination of the accompanying illustration, the screw-there shown by the dotted lines-is completely protected from

contact with foreign objects such as we have mentioned. Another argument in favor of the casing is, that when adapted to war-vessels it will act the part of an armor-plate about the screw, thus protecting it from shot and shell, and, what is a more probable source of danger, the bursting of torpedoes.

The arguments in favor of the plan were regarded as of sufficient force to justify the naval officials in authorizing a practical test, to which end H. M. S. Bruiser was placed at the service of the inventor. Of course, the only question to be definitely determined by a trial-trip was the value of the casing as an aid to the speed of the vessel, its use as a guard or armor being self-evident. The report of this trial reads as follows:

"The Bruiser was first tried on the 26th of

February with her propeller fitted in the ordinary way, her course being over the measured distance within the breakwater at Plymouth.

The force of the wind was two to three, and its direction east-southeast, and tho

sea smooth. The draught of the ship was eight feet, both fore-and-aft, and she was in every way fully equipped and ready for sea. The screw fitted was one of Griffiths', with two blades, having a diameter of six feet and eight feet pitch; with sixty nominal horse-power, and a mean pressure in the cylinders of 35.79 pounds, her mean number of revolutions, after six runs, was eight hundred and eighty-one per mile, and her true mean speed 8.016 knots. Having been docked, and the casing fitted to her, as shown in the accompanying illustration, she was again tried on the 2d instant, under almost similar circumstances to those of the first trial. The force of the wind and the state of the sea were the same, though the direction of the former was southwest instead of east-southeast. She carried one more ton of coals, and her trim was a little different, being seven feet ten inches forward, and eight feet one inch aft. With the same nominal horse-power, and only .4 more indicated, the mean number of revolutions was only eight hundred and thirty-six, whereas the speed gained was 8.274 knots, or rather more than a quarter of a knot beyond what was realized without the casing."

From these results it is evident that the claims of the inventor were fully justified, and that, by means of a very simple improvement, both the speed and safety of steamships are likely to be enhanced. In the present connection we learn that Mr. Griffiths's scheme, when fully perfected, involves a far more decided innovation than that above described. This is nothing less than the use of two small screws instead of one large one, and putting one of the screws at the bow of the vessel, the other being, as usual, at the stern. Already certain experiments have been made with this bow-screw, and the results seem to have been most favorable. At least the success of the casing, as shown by the Bruiser, was so marked, that the government have placed a screw-launch at Mr. Griffiths's disposal, by the aid of which he proposes to test the system of bow and stern screws. We shall await the results with interest, and report them to our readers as soon as they are laid before us.

From this table it appears that, up to the 18th of the month of August just passed, the rainfall was three times that of the whole month of the previous year, and the record of a single day's storm gives over three inches, or as much as fell during the whole of the preceding months of May and June. With these facts in mind, and with the reports from abroad and the West, that a like condition exists there, the question as to the true cause of this undue

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precipitation " becomes one of general interest; and, now that we have a bureau whose special function it is to know all about the weather, an answer may very properly be demanded from that quarter. This answer, as given by Lieutenant Beall, the officer in charge of the Signal Bureau in New York, is as follows: "Two months ago, in June, we observed winds coming into the Southern States from the Gulf of Mexico. These winds, coming from such a large body of water, brought with them heavy quantities of moisture, and, passing over the Appalachian range, blew into the Alleghany Mountains, and forced this moisture up into colder strata of air, which condensed it, and produced the rain. These southern winds are continuing still. In sections of Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi, which are south of this range of mountains, and where the moisture has not been condensed, there has been less than one inch of rain. But we, here in New York and all over the Middle States, get the benefit of it so long as these southern winds continue. Since Monday morning (August 16th) there is a decline in the atmosphere in the northwest, first in Dakota, yesterday in Leavenworth, to-day in Nashville. I am hardly satisfied yet that it will reach us here; it may not be felt in this section, but, if this cool wave does continue to go eastward, it will produce cooler weather and a cessation of precipitation." When further questioned by an enterprising "interviewer" as to the cause of the inundations in Hungary and France, Lieutenant Beall stated that, as areas of high pressure had been observed over the northern coast of Africa, the result would be southern winds; these, passing northward over the Mediterranean, would become saturated with moisture, and when the cold heights of the Alps and Apennines were reached a condensation and enormous precipitation would naturally occur. From these facts and deductions we reach the disheartening conclusion that when it rains we must be content to let it rain, thankful, however, that we are wiser than our fathers were, and, though that knowledge is of no avail to avert the catastrophe, we may yet be in a degree prepared for its advent.

made the subject of extended observation, the results of which we have from time to time reported, attention is now directed to certain kindred experiments on animals. These were conducted by M. Thury, and may be briefly reviewed as follows: Two separate batches of frogs'-eggs were placed the one under colorless and the other under green glass, all the other conditions being identical. The method and rapidity of growth were carefully noted, with the following results: The development of the eggs under the colorless glass, where they were exposed to pure sunlight, was rapid and normal, and at the end of May these creatures were over an inch and one-half in length, with well-developed hind-legs. With those under the green shade the growth was stunted and abnormal, being at the end of May but threequarters of an inch in length, of a blackish

color, and without a trace of hind-legs. By the 10th of June, many of the first batch had their fore-legs, and were changed to frogs, while in the latter no legs appeared, and they breathed still through their gills; and on the 2d of August all of the first were frogs, while the second batch were dead, never having attained even to the first stage of development in which the hind-legs are formed. It thus appears that conditions which, in the case of certain vegetables, may prove favorable to growth, are fatal to animal life; and, while grapes may thrive in blue light, frogs grow best under the full influence of all the solar rays. It is true that we have as yet no report regarding the possible influence of the other colored rays, blue, red, and yellow; still the effect of the green ray would seem to suggest like or kindred results from any other partial exclusion of the full white light of the sun.

In a brief notice made many months since of certain novel uses of electricity, our readers may recall the fact that we then urgently advocated the formation of a company which should agree to furnish all our houses with standard time by the aid of electric clocks. These were to be placed on our mantels, or in niches constructed for them and were to be operated by electric currents conducted into the house along wires imbedded in the walls, the whole circuit to be regulated by a standard clock at the company's office. So feasible is this plan, and so much would be gained by it in securing accurate time without the repeated winding and regulating of the household clocks, that the wonder is that in this age of invention and enterprise the scheme has waited so long for the capital needed for its furtherance. We pay for water and light, and in our large commercial buildings heat is also furnished from a central reservoir. How long must it then be before we are waited upon by the agent of the coming electric clock company? We have been prompted to make this reference to the subject in view of the announcement received from Paris that M. Leverrier has proposed to the Prefect of the Seine to put all the public clocks of that city in connection with the clock at the Observatory, which instrument is placed in the Catacombs, so as to be as free as possible from all surface vibrations. Although this scheme is limited to the public clocks, there is no reason why it should not be extended to include all private as well as public timepieces.

As an immediate and almost essential consequence of the recent advances in the methods of torpedo-warfare come plans and devices either for guarding against the disastrous effects of these submarine enemies, or for removing them before they have been exploded. To this latter class belongs the invention of Messrs. Denarouze, by which a diver is enabled, without communication or connection with the surface, to remain for a long time under water. Directing his movements by means of a compass and lamp, which may be lighted or extinguished at pleasure, the diver can either place or remove torpedoes with no fear of being observed from above. While no detailed description of this apparatus has yet reached us, it is evident that the air for breathing is taken down in a compressed form, while the light may be an electric one, obtained from a battery attached to the person of the diver. Certain experiments recently made before the English torpedo committee are said to have been very satisfactory.

THE English Mechanic states that a new "log" has been invented and patented by

Mr. W. Clark Russell, which is said to indicate the speed of a ship at a glance without any preliminary timing. It consists of a dial placed on deck and connected to a line and log thrown overboard. As soon as the line becomes taut the index points to the rate of speed at which the vessel is traveling through the water. Presuming that the new log is as trustworthy as others employing a line, etc., towing in the sea, it has a great advantage in that its indications are read on an instrument fixed on deck.

Miscellany:

NOTEWORTHY THINGS GLEANED HERE AND THERE.

IN

the last Fraser an article by Mr. W. Longman, which he calls "Impressions of Madeira," contains a great deal of interesting information, well told, about this strange and picturesque island of the Atlantic:

It was getting dusk as we neared Madeira, and had become quite dark when we landed at Funchal. When I awoke the next morning and looked into the beautiful garden of Miles's Hotel, I could not but admire the richness of the tropical vegetation with which it is abundantly filled. The remoter scene was also fine. The mountains rose in the background, and the houses crept picturesquely up the steep sides of the hills on which the town is built.

It was not long before I had an opportunity of seeing more of the island, for the friends I found at the hotel were determined I should lose no time. After breakfast we went, some on horseback, some on foot, and another in a hammock, to one of the volcanic ravines by which the city is intersected, and which descend from the central group of mountains. We went up the steep, paved street, between walls, until we arrived at a watercourse, by the side of which we entered the ravine. In the afternoon we rode to a small, prettily-wooded hillock, lying to the northwest of Funchal, called the Pico do Funcho, from which we had a glimpse of the mountainview it often commands.

But the first impression produced on my mind was, I confess, one of some little disappointment. This was, perhaps, partly produced by the presence, on my arrival, of one of those too frequent mists which veil the mountains, and descend so low as to form a canopy hardly above the highest quintas-as the brilliantly-gardened country-houses of the Funchal residents are called. I can well imagine the striking beauty of the island when first seen after a voyage from the Cape, should the mountains be unclouded or covered only sufficiently to veil a portion of their loveliness. But I was not fortunate enough to see them in this state, and even had I thus beheld them I should still have felt some disappointment. On the south side of the island, especially, there are many defects in natural beauty, and in all that combines to produce the feeling of satisfaction and delight which is derived from the enjoyment of Nature in all its various details. Some of these defects are common to the whole island, but others are especially characteristic of its southern portion. There is, in that part of it, a striking and lamentable deficiency of trees, and of all really wild flowers. The volcanic ravines are arid and repulsive. There is no comeliness or

beauty of form in them. They are seams which Nature may not have had time to clothe with decency; for Madeira, geologically, is not only very young, but, being a selfformed island, and having never been a part of a continent, it has never enjoyed the advantages of physical continental intercourse. Man, indeed, has built up terraces to hold the soil, and covered every nook and vantageground with vines and sugar-canes, yams, and other useful vegetable products; and man, too, has imported and transplanted into his quinta garden many a gorgeous flower, and many a splendid tree and shrub from tropical and other climates; and many of these have become wild, and grow profusely on walls and other separating boundaries of cultivation. Scattered plentifully in these arid ravines are many naturalized species of cactus, more remarkable for their singularity and ugliness than for any other quality, and vines cover every available patch of soil. But of really indigenous and beautiful wild-flowers there is a mighty dearth, and the general effect is an uninteresting bareness.

He who loves the beauty of an English flowery lane, the varied colors of an English wood, the emerald and golden hue of an English pasture, or the richly-painted loveliness of a many-flowered Alpine mountain-slope, will not find such charms in the neighborhood of Funchal. Elsewhere, in the island, he will find some of these beauties, along with others partly making up for the absence of the rest. But he will not find them in the southern districts of Madeira. A brilliant sun, which no doubt is far more frequent in Madeira than in our northern climes, also compensates, to a considerable extent, for the loss of some of these elements of natural beauty. But it does not entirely supply their place and the bareness of the neighborhood of Funchal, combined with the difficulty of escaping from high-walled thoroughfaresand, indeed, of locomotion altogether-was no doubt the cause which produced at first a feeling of disappointment with Madeira.

On the other hand, the gardens of the quintas which are almost peculiar to the south of the island - are often exceedingly beautiful. They are usually a blaze of color. Every thing grows and blossoms with a luxuriance unknown to the more temperate and, may I add, more friendly-north. Geraniums grow to a height of twenty feet and more in a few months, and must be cut down yearly to prevent their straggling into useless exuberance. Strange tropical exotics are here naturalized. Bananas, camphor-trees, nettletrees, palms, and gum-trees, with many others, are found in these delicious gardens, while lilies, daturas, bougainvilleas, and flowers too numerous to mention, decorate the neighborhood of every house, however humble.

But even here-even in these quinta gardens-Nature is niggardly, or rather has not had time to do for Madeira what she has done for larger areas. All is silence! or so nearly so that the sounds one hears serve rather to increase the oppressive feeling of want of life than make one perceive its presence. Hardly a bird carols forth its joyous song, or even twitters in the trees; hardly a butterfly flutters among the flowers, hardly a beetle crosses the path. The hum of bees is almost unknown, and the mysterious harmony of myriads of buzzing insects' wings-so charming in an English wood-in Madeira is never heard. All seems silent, all seems dead!

Madeira, we are told, has no lakes and no permanently flowing rivers:

The ribeiros, or rivers, are, except after heavy rains, mere water-courses, of which many are usually quite dry, and the others contain nothing more than a mere rivulet of water. During the whole of my excursions in Madeira I never saw a stream which deserved the name of any thing but a brook. I, however, crossed many substantial bridges, which showed that these brooks occasionally become dangerous torrents. Nor is there a single lake in Madeira, and indeed I did not see even one single pond in the whole island.

The cause of this absence is evidently the porous character of the volcanic soil. There are, as I shall describe, water-falls and watercourses. None of the former are really copious, except after rain. The latter, called levadas, must to a certain extent rob the rivers, for the water which would naturally run into the ribeiros is almost entirely diverted into them. The inhabitants rely on them for irrigating the cultivated soil, and principally also for the water-supply of the houses, both in and out of the capital and the villages. Every house with a garden or cultivated plot of ground is supplied with water for a definite number of hours weekly from the levada. The scanty remnants of the streams which find their way into the water-courses are used for washing.

It has been a popular impression that Madeira is the finest of sanitariums, where one with his lungs half gone may breathe freely a glorious atmosphere, with a scenery and a civilization peculiarly adapted for invalids, but, according to Mr. Longman, this idea of the island is only partially true:

The island is well worth visiting, but I think there are but few people who would care to return to it. To those who are in good health the climate is not agreeable. It is too relaxing. To a certain extent one becomes used to it; still, however, it is enervating, and renders one indisposed to pedestrian exercise. But, unquestionably, to one who is not an invalid, the great drawback is the difficulty of getting about. I have often been asked whether one can take walks, and my answer is always that in the neighborhood of Funchal, and with but few exceptions elsewhere, it is impracticable. There is nowhere to walk, and the walking everywhere—if you should walk-is most disagreeable. Wheeled carriages are practically unknown; there are three pony carriages in Funchal, but they are almost useless, and it is said that their owners intend to give them up. They can be used only in some few of the streets of Funchal, and along what is termed the New Road, which is a mixture of a Rotten Row for riding and a very fair road for carriages. It extends for about three miles from the western end of Funchal toward the village of Cama de Lobos.

The universal mode of getting about is either to ride on horseback or in a bullocksledge on runners, or to be carried in a hammock. There is, however, a fourth mode of descending from the mountains for three or four miles on a few roads, and this is by sledges. A car, to hold either two or three persons, is placed on wooden runners and descends the steep, wall-inclosed roads principally by its own weight. At starting, and where the inclination is not great, it is dragged down by two of the wonderfully active Madeira peasants, who run by its side at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour, each guiding it by a leathern thong attached to its front

on either side. It requires but little or no exertion to draw it along, for the road is everywhere steep, and always smoothly paved with pebbles or long stones, to which additional smoothness and even polish, beyond that produced by mere friction, are given by the constant application of grease to the runners of the bullock-cars. When, however, the road becomes very steep, the men stand on the framework of the car with one foot, while with the other they guide or check it, and the car then shoots down by its own weight with a velocity that is not a little exciting, and, after the first dash off, extremely agreeable. The speed is often more than twenty miles an hour. It is wonderful how the angular corners are turned, the car lurching up first toward one wall and then toward the other; with what ease speed is slackened or arrested, and how seldom any serious accident happens. Merchants living in their quintas often make use of these sledges to go to their counting-houses in the morning, returning in the afternoon usually on horseback.

To invalids, for whom a bracing air is not required, the remarkable stability of the temperature is a great recommendation.

To men in health the utter absence of any occupation or amusement beyond that of visiting is wearisome. To those fond of scenery or of mountain exploration there are of course those additional sources of interest; but they are greatly lessened by the almost utter want of lodging accommodation. Out of Funchal, with the exception of the neighboring seaside village of Santa Cruz-and this possesses only one small inn-there are but two places in the island where travelers can find a lodging. The first is Santa Anna, where there is little fear of disappointment; the other São Vicente, where there are only three decent bedrooms, and whither it is very desirable to take food. The comfort of Miles's Hotel at Funchal, and the beauty of its garden, must not be omitted among the recommendations of Madeira.

MR. JOHN LATOUCHE, in his "Travels in Portugal," from which we have previously quoted, gives a somewhat striking picture of the habits of the middle-class Portuguese, and their method of love-making:

There is nothing that would strike a traveler fresh from England, Germany, or France, more than the great rarity of real countryhouses in Portugal. It is entirely against the genius of the people to live a country-life. The Portuguese is too sociable to endure to be surrounded only by woods and fields and mountains. He has many of our Northern tastes he likes field-sports in moderation; he rides, in his own style, better than any nation in Europe except ourselves; he has a sincere delight in country-life and country-scenery, but he cannot long support the utter solitude of the country. A Portuguese nobleman, if he be rich enough, lives in Lisbon or Oporto, and if he has a country-house will visit it for a month or two in the autumn; even then he will often rather endure the misery of a sea-side lodging among a crowd than go inland. The larger of the country towns have streets full of gentlemen's houses; and here vegetate, from year to year, families who are just rich enough to live upon their incomes without working. To live, indeed, as the Portuguese do in such towns, need cost but little. A large house with a plot of cabbages (a kale-yard) behind it; with whitewashed walls, floors un

carpeted, a dozen wooden chairs, one or two deal-tables; no fireplace, not even a stove, either in sitting-room or bedroom; no curtains to the windows, no covers to the tables; no pictures on the walls, no mirrors; no table pleasantly strewed with books, magazines, newspapers, and ladies' work; no such thing visible as a pot of cut flowers; no rare china, no clocks, no bronzes-none of the hundred trifles and curiosities with which, in our houses, we show our taste, or our want of it, but which either way give such an individual character and charm to our English homes. All these negatives describe the utterly dreary habitations of the middle-class Portuguese.

For occupations, the women do needlework, gossip, go to mass daily, and look out of window by the hour. Except the one short walk to church at eight o'clock in the morning, a Portuguese lady hardly ever appears in the streets. As for the men, they lounge about among the shops, they smoke innumerable paper cigarettes, they take a siesta in the heat of the day. If there is sunshine, they stand in groups at the street-corners with umbrellas over their heads; in winter, they wear a shawl over their shoulders, folded and put on three-cornerwise, as a French or English woman's shawl is worn: for this is a fashion in Portugal, and the Spaniards laugh a good deal at their neighbors on the score of their being a nation who invert the due order of things, and whose women wear cloaks and the men shawls. In these towns there is never any news, and if two men are seen in eager discussion of some matter of apparently immense importance, and if one happens to pass near enough to overhear the subject of conversation, be sure that one of them is plunged in despair or kindling with enthusiasm at a fall or rise of a halfpenny in the price of a pound of tobacco. An American gentleman of my acquaintance told me that he had never passed two Portuguese in conversation without hearing one of two words spoken, "testão " or "rapariga"-finance or love.

There are not even fashions for them to think about; young men and old men dress alike, but the younger ones wear exceedingly tight boots, and" when they take their walks abroad" it is obvious that they do so in considerable discomfort. The young men, however, have one occupation more important even than wearing tight boots, and which almost, in fact, goes with it-that of making the very mildest form of love known among men. The process, indeed, is carried on in so Platonic a manner, and with so much proper feeling, that I doubt if even the strictest English governess would find any thing in it to object to. The young gentlemen pay their addresses by simply standing in front of the house occupied by the object of their affections, while the young person in question looks down approvingly from an upper win

dow, and there the matter ends. They are not wihin speaking distance, and have to content themselves with expressive glances and dumb show; for it would be thought highly unbecoming for the young lady to allow a billet-doux to flutter down into the street, while the laws of gravitation stand in the way of the upper flight of such a document-unweighted, at least, with a stone, and this, of course, might risk giving the young lady a black eye, or breaking her father's window-panes. So the lovers there remain, often for hours, feeling, no doubt, very happy, but looking unutterably foolish. These silent courtships sometimes continue for very long periods before the lover can ask the fatal question, or the lady return the final answer. I heard a story of one such protracted courtship which an ingenious novelist might easily work into a pretty romance.

About forty or fifty years ago, before the suppression of convents in Portugal, a young lady was engaged to be married. For some reason or other, the marriage did not come off, and the girl was placed in a Benedictine nunnery at Oporto. Soon after came the abolition of convents; but, while the monasteries were absolutely dissolved, and the monks scattered, the nuns who were already inmates of religious houses were suffered there to remain. The young lady, accordingly, on the suppression occurring, did not leave the Benedictine convent. It is to be presumed, however, that the rules of this particular establishment were somewhat relaxed, for the young gentleman who had been engaged to this nun was observed to take his constant stand before the barred window of his former mistress's cell, while she would become visible behind the grating. Here the romance I have imagined would perhaps rather lack incident, and, except in a master's hand, might grow monotonous, for this hopeless courtship lasted no fewer than four-and-thirty years, till a bowed and middle-aged man paced the pavement, and looked up to a gray-haired mistress. It only ended with the death of the lady, a few years ago. Many persons have assured me that they have often been eyewitnesses of what I have described, and I found that the fact was quite notorious in Oporto. It will, of course, be understood that the stagnating life I have described, with its narrow circle of interests and its little meannesses of household detail, is confined to the half- educated, middle-class inhabitants of small country towns. The higher native society of Lisbon, with its courtly influences, and that of Oporto-which holds the same relative position to Lisbon that Edinburgh did to London before the days of steam-can compare with that of any capital of Europe. The men are high-bred, courteous, and intelligent, and the ladies have a charm of manner and talents for society which all foreigners admit.