not to be silent, she did not know what to say, so she would ask me, "Herr Doctor, is not the master of the ceremonies, in Prussia, the brother of the Margrave?" She was an odd woman.'

Froude's 'Times of Erasmus and Luther.'

BENVENUTO CELLINI.

Benvenuto Cellini tells us that once when in boyhood he saw a Salamander come out of the fire, his grandfather, forthwith, gave him a sound beating, that he might the better remember so unique a prodigy.

THEOCRITUS.

'That which distinguishes Theocritus from all other poets is the inimitable tenderness of his passions, and the natural expression of them in words so becoming of a pastoral. A simplicity shines through. all he writes; he shows his art and learning by disguising both. His shepherds never rise above their country education. Even his Doric dialect has an incomparable sweetness in his clownishness, like a fair shepherdess in her country russet, talking in a Yorkshire tone.' John Dryden (1631-1701).

STONEHENGE.

'That huge dumb heap, which stands on the blasted heath, and looks like a group of giants, bewildered, not knowing what to do, encumbering the earth, and turned to stone while in the act of warring on Heaven.'

William Hazlitt.

THE ST. PETER MARTYR' BY TITIAN.

'Yet why not describe it as we see it still in our mind's eye, standing on the floor of the Tuileries, with none of its brightness impaired, through the long perspective of waning years? There it stands, and will for ever stand in our imagination, with the dark scowling terrific face of the murdered monk looking up to his assassin, the horror-struck features of the flying priest, and the skirts of his vest waving in the wind. The shattered branches of the autumnal trees that feel the coming gale, with that cold convent spire rising in the distance amidst the sapphire hills and golden sky, and overhead are seen the cherubim, bringing with rosy fingers the crown of martyrdom, and (such is the feeling of truth, and soul of faith in the picture) you hear floating near, in dim harmonies, the pealing anthem and the heavenly choir.'

William Hazlitt.

When I last saw this glorious picture it was also

on the ground, but in the sacristy in SS. Giovanni e Paolo. It was destroyed by fire in 1867.

LUDOVICO CARRACCI'S PICTURE OF 'SUSANNA.

'Our heart thrilled with its beauty, and our eyes filled with tears. How often have we thought of it since! How often spoken of it. There it was still, the same lovely phantom as ever... The young Jewish beauty had been just surprised in that unguarded spot, crouching down in one corner of the picture, the face turned back with a mingled expression of terror, shame, and unconquerable sweetness, and the whole figure shrinking into itself with bewitching grace and modesty.'

William Hazlitt.

C. E. VON kleist.

Kleist, the Poet, killed at Kunersdorf, laughed loudly just before he expired, at the recollection of the very extraordinary grimaces a Cossack, who had been plundering him on the field of battle, made over the prize he had found.

A COMPROMISE.

Fudge. Your client had better make a compromise, ask her what she will take.'

Counsel. My good woman, his Lordship asks what you will take.'

Old woman.-'I'm obliged to his Lordship' (curtsey) as he's so kind (curtsey). 'I'll just take a glass o' warm ale.'

You try to talk-how hard you try!—

You cannot run;

You're only One.

Ere long you won't be such a dunce ;

You'll eat your bun,

Were only One.

And fly your kite, like folk, who once

You'll rhyme, and woo, and fight, and joke,

Perhaps you'll pun!

Such feats are never done by folk

Before they're One.

Some day, too, you may have your joy,

And envy none;

Yes, you, yourself, may own a boy,

Who isn't One.

He'll dance, and laugh, and crow, he'll do

As you have done:

(You crown a happy home, tho' you

Are only One).

But when he's grown shall you be here

To share his fun,

And talk of times, when he (the dear!)

Was hardly One?

Dear Child, 'tis your poor lot to be

My little son;

I'm glad, tho' I am old, you see,—

While you are One.

1876.

LITTLE DINKY.

(A RHYME OF LESS THAN ONE.)

The hair she means to have is gold,

Her eyes are blue, she's twelve weeks old,

Plump are her fists and pinky.

She fluttered down in lucky hour

From some blue deep in yon sky bower

I call her LITTLE DINKY.