forthwith transferred to her face, while putting back her hair with the bristles, that she might see and comprehend the scene more intensely.

Look at this lobster!' said Mr Magnus Smith imperiously.

'Oh yes, sir; I know by the small coal it is all right. Don't you remember yourself it was to be a little un', and cheap of course?"

"You hear, sir? Your lobster indeed!'

'And the bread and butter?' said Mr Thompson; answer, girl!'

'Oh my!-oh gemini!-oh gracious!' cried Jemima, as she looked over the table, and even peeped under the tablecloth for the missing viands. Well, to think of that! If somebody hasn't been agoing and sweeping away the bath-brick and carrot clean off the dresser!' 'Bath-brick and carrot!' growled Mr Thompson. 'Did you not receive my orders, stupid?'

Oh yes, sir; and you know yourself it was to be only a little butter, as the good lady was particular in the article, and would see about it herself in the morning. But that missus is always a ruining me!'

on the desire of returning, as it were, home, after finishing the affairs of incubation. A remark often made,' says Mr Couch, appears to be correct-that the swallow tribe go away earliest in the warmest seasons; but whether there be any physiological reason for this, is a matter of doubt. The principal cause of their early readiness for migration seems to be, that less interruption has been thrown in the way of the formation of the nest, and there has been a greater abundance of insect food for the support of the young, which has accelerated their growth. In an unfavourable season in these respects, or when other causes have occurred to retard the maturity of the brood, the birds have not only been kept later, but in many instances the migratory instinct has grown sufficiently strong to overcome the force of parental affection, and the brood has been left to perish in the nest. To attend on a helpless young one, a single swift has been known to remain for a fortnight after the departure of its race; and it is a frequent occurrence for the swallow to leave its late brood to perish in the nest.' After many particulars of the migration of the swallows and swifts, Mr Couch adds some remarks on a

Oh no, mum; that's the good lady.' Then who is this-individual?' said Mrs Thompson. "That's the other good lady.'

'And who, in the name of wonder, then, is your missus?'

Here I am, ladies and gentlemen,' said Mrs Plumley, sailing into the room with her husband; and sorry and ashamed we are of all the trouble you have had. But the truth is, Mr Plumley let the room to one party, and I to another; and all because we were not on speak ing terms!'

The explanations that ensued may be imagined. Mr and Mrs Magnus Smith consented to be put into the drawing-room floor for that night; and liked it so well, that on the Plumleys making a slight reduction in the price, they took the apartments permanently. These good people took special care to be on speaking terms for the rest of their lives; and Mrs Plumley entered into a treaty with Jemima, whereby the latter agreed to evacuate the dresser, in consideration of the former ceding up for ever to her hieroglyphics the lid of her box.

JONATHAN COUCH ON INSTINCT.* MR COUCH is a naturalist, well known amongst men of his own order, but hitherto not known in the field of general literature. He has here produced a volume of anecdote and speculation about animals-better in the anecdote than in the speculation, yet not without some good ideas in the latter department, mingled, however, with a good deal of what appears to us very inconclusive matter. He inclines to the modern views of animal psychology, and regarding man as possessing similar qualities to those of the inferior tribes, with the superaddition of an internal consciousness making him responsible for the rectitude of his actions, counsels that we should study the science of mind through what he rather happily calls Comparative Metaphysics. It is a great hint to throw out; but when and whence is to come the John Hunter who shall realise the idea?

Feeling it to be vain to attempt to follow Mr Couch through the loose texture of his speculations, we shall take him up in one of the branches of animal economy, which he illustrates by facts. We pitch upon the chapter on animal migrations, because it is the subject which has been least treated of in these pages.

The principal migrators are birds. The object in coming northward evidently is to obtain a moderate temperature for the business of bringing forth a family; the going southward seems to depend less on an anxiety to escape the rigours of the winter season, than simply

*Illustrations of Instinct, deduced from the Habits of British Animals. By Jonathan Couch, F.L.S. London: Van Voorst. 1847.

tery. The invariable direction,' he says, 'in which migration is prosecuted, is not the least interesting portion of the proceeding: for though it is known to us that southern climates possess the warmest temperature, and the most nutritious and stimulating food, at the time when the summer haunts of migrants are becoming deficient in these particulars, still it cannot be supposed that a bird is in possession of this speculative knowledge; or, possessing it, that, without compass or guide, it should unerringly pursue the route that leads to it. Yet they rarely deviate to any great extent in the journey, uninfluenced by mountains or oceans that intervene; and even the young cuckoo, new from the nest of a foster-parent who is itself indisposed to the effort, and destitute of any guiding influence besides its own instinctive feeling, quits the land of its birth, and fails not to reach the country of its search.

'Inscrutable as this directing skill appears to our duller perceptions, it is not only constant in its manifestation among our little summer insect-hunters, but it is also possessed by birds whose opportunities of using it are only occasional. Domestic pigeons have been taken to remote distances from their home, and that, too, by a mode of conveyance which must effectually shut out all possibility of recognition of the local bearings of the direction; and yet they have returned thither with a rapidity of flight which marked a conscious security of finding it. I have known some of the most timid and secluded of our birds, as the wheatear and dipper, to be taken from their nests, and conveyed to a distance, under circumstances which must have impressed them with feelings of terror, and in which all traces of the direction must have been lost; and yet, on being set free, they were soon at the nook from which they had been taken. Even the common hen, which has been carried in a covered basket through a district intersected by a confusion of hills and valleys, in a few hours was seen again scraping for grain on her old dunghill.

The only explanation, in these cases, must be sought in the existence of perceptions to which the human race is a stranger; their possession of which is proved by the exquisite and ready susceptibility of most animals to changes of weather, long before the occurrence of anything which our observation can appreciate, or which can be indicated by instruments. While the atmosphere seems to promise a continuance of fair and calm weather, and the wind maintains the same direction, the hog may be seen conveying in its mouth a wisp of straw; and in a few hours a violent wind fulfils the omen. The cat washes, and some wild animals shift their quarters, in compliance with similar indications; and even fish, at considerable depths in the sea, display in their motions and appetite sensibility to the coming change. The latter circumstance especially, which

is well known to fishermen, is a proof that mere change of temperature or moisture is not sufficient to explain the phenomenon.'

Animals much below birds perform occasional migrations, attended by extraordinary circumstances. We are told, for instance, of streams of butterflies and dragon-flies, which go on without intermission for days, no one being able to comprehend whence they have come or whither they are going. The flight of the locust is a too well-known phenomenon. Mr Couch quotes a curious account of a procession of caterpillars (bombyces) observed by Mr Davis. They were crossing the road in single file, each so close to its predecessor, as to convey the idea that they were united together, moving like a living cord in a continuous living line. At about fifty from the end of the line, I ejected one from his station: the caterpillar immediately before him suddenly stood still; then the next, and then the next, and so on to the leader. The same result took place at the other extremity. After a pause of a few moments, the first after the break in the line attempted to recover the communication. This was a work of time and difficulty, but the moment it was accomplished by his touching the one before him, this one communicated the fact to the next in advance, and so on till the information reached the leader, when the whole line was again put in motion. On counting the number of caterpillars, I found them to be one hundred and fifty-four, and the length of the line twenty-seven feet. I next took the one which I had abstracted from the line, and which remained coiled up, across the line. He immediately unrolled himself, and made every attempt to get admitted into the procession. After many endeavours, he succeeded, and crawled in, the one below falling into the rear of the interloper. I subsequently took out two caterpillars, about fifty from the head of the procession. By my watch, I found the intelligence was conveyed to the leader in thirty seconds, each caterpillar stopping at the signal of the one in his rear. The same effect was observable behind the break, each stopping at a signal from the one in advance. The leader of the second division then attempted to recover the lost connection. That they are unprovided with the senses of sight and smell, appeared evident, since the leader turned right and left, and often in a wrong direction, when within half an inch of the one immediately before him: when he at last touched the object of his search, the fact was communicated again by signal; and in thirty seconds, the whole line was in rapid march, leaving the two unfortunates behind, which remained perfectly quiet, without making any attempt to unrol themselves.'

Mr Couch devotes several chapters to the habits of birds, as illustrating a combination of instinct and reason; but they are of too desultory a nature to admit of extracts. The following regarding the mole is more concentrated, and also more original:- The habits of the mole will vary with the soil, and particularly with the structure of the ground, as it is rich and deep, or shallow, level, rocky, uneven, or intersected with raised mounds or hedges of earth, five or six feet high, and of the same thickness, such as divide fields in the west of England. The presence of this animal is known by the heaps of fine earth, or hills, thrown up during its subterraneous operations. In deep ground, little of its labours can be traced, except when thus marked; but in a thin soil, or in hard ground, a ridge is often driven along, which is distinctly raised above the ordinary level of the surface; and the mole-hill is only elevated where the earth is so fine and friable, that the removal of some part of it is necessary to give the creature a clear course in its runs backward and forward. The creep or run is in a zig-zag direction; and when the neighbourhood is very productive of its prey, exceedingly so, as if the animal were unwilling to pass out of so fertile a district. But for the most part it takes a straightforward course; and in the open space of a down, it passes through more than fifty paces of distance without lifting a heap, with a progress amounting to two or three human paces in a

day, and the whole run is two hundred feet in length. | In the course of this passage, advantage is taken of any obstructions which occur, as if conscious of the probability of pursuit; and the run is made to pass among the roots of dwarf furze, and even under a large stone, while, at irregular distances, openings are made to allow of excursions on the surface, and the free admission of air. There are many lateral branches from the principal passage; but none of them extend to any great distance: for it seems wisely to avoid forming such a labyrinth as might confound itself in its daily course, or in its efforts to escape from an enemy, to whose depredations it is exposed even in its retreat. Its time of labour is chiefly at an early hour in the morning; but if everything be still, it may be seen at work at other seasons. The slightest sound or movement of an approaching foot stops the work, and no further lifting of the earth will be attempted that day. These runs are mostly made towards the end of autumn; are this creature's hunting-grounds for food; are abandoned when the soil has been thoroughly searched through and through; and though they are formed with so much toil as to make it desirable not to desert them while there is anything to be done there, yet in a month or two the animal quits them for new ground, perhaps at a great distance, where the hunting promises better success. A favourite spot for its winter-quarters, and one it prefers at other seasons, is in enclosed fields, under the shelter of a hedge of high-piled earth, along the middle of whose base the run is carried, and in whose mass of mould it finds security from cold and from its natural enemies. The heaps it throws up are cast on the sides, and at intervals a lateral passage is driven into the field, to which, when the inducement is powerful, it transfers its principal operations; and there encounters its greatest hazards from the traps of the mole-catcher, and the pursuit of the weasel and the rat, with whom it fights furiously, but without success. When undisturbed, the mole often shifts its quarters; and in making a new selection, its choice seems to be much influenced by caprice. It makes these changes especially in the months of July and August; but I have known it to take excursions of removal to such distances, that no mark of its presence could be detected in the month of January, if an open and moist season. A large part of such a journey must be along the surface; and it is probable that, at all times, this is its mode of emigration to distant places. In summer, much of its time is thus passed in migrations from one field to another, because the hardness of the ground renders it difficult to throw up the soil, and follow up the worms, which have sunk deeper down into the soil. It shows the same love of change in moist weather, when the ground is more workable.

'If not to its mind, the mole repeatedly changes its quarters; and though shut up in darkness, it reluctantly continues on the northern declivity of a hill, where it has little light, and less heat, unless its other advantages are unusually great. Its migration from one district to another exposes it to great danger, as it is slow to escape, and little prepared to defend itself.

The run is differently formed in spring, in consequence of a difference of object. Where fields are not large, the hedge is still the selected spot; on which account its nest is not often discovered. Mr Bell has given a sketch of the skilful arrangements made for its safety at this time; but in districts where the hedge is chosen for defence, no other departure from its usual form is made than an enlargement of the space, and a more comfortable lining. Fourteen young ones have been discovered in one nest; but though the mole is not a social animal, it is hard to believe that they could have been littered by one mother.

ing, like many wild animals of that character, it is not easy to say how its wants are at this time supplied. A dead or living bird, numbed with the cold, is always a welcome morsel; but its track has not been seen in the snow in pursuit of it. It perceives the earliest approach of a thaw; and after long seclusion, a heap may be seen protruding through the thin covering of snow, as evidence of its sensibility to change of temperature—a circumstance more easily understood when we recollect that it is the radiation of heat from the inner parts of the earth which exercises the first influence in the change; and that it is because the air abstracts this heat more rapidly than the earth supplies it, that frost and snow are produced and continued. When, from changes in the atmosphere, this rapid abstraction ceases, the heat below becomes more sensibly felt; and this is first visible at the surface of the soil.

'A good supply of drink is essential to the mole's existence; and its healthy condition is marked by a softness and moisture about the snout, where its most perfect organ of sensation is placed. The flexibility of that organ, and its command over it, are indeed exquisite; but it is not used in the operations of excavation and lifting. This is the work of the feet, neck, and the hinder part of the shoulder; and in these parts the mole is perhaps the strongest quadruped in existence, in proportion to its size. The heaps it throws up are not made simply by lifting; for the superfluous earth is collected at easy distances, and thrust along, until so much is accumulated, as compels it to convey it out of the way, and then its work in tunnelling goes on again.

The mole has more enemies than it is supposed to have; for though its disappearance from a district is sometimes due to emigration, there must be other causes at work to account for their extirpation in particular localities. They may destroy each other in their burrows, for they are exceedingly quarrelsome; the fox and weasel, too, are formidable foes; but the ceaseless war waged against them by man, the least excusable enemy they have, is the most destructive. Admitting that mole-heaps, and loosening of the soil by the runs made through a field, are inconveniences, and even injurious, and that it is unsightly to see a gentleman's lawn disfigured with these tumuli, such annoyances may be either removed or turned to advantage; and it must not be forgotten that their destruction of more injurious creatures is considerable. If it is desirable to expel them from their haunts, it may be done effectually without destroying them: for their extirpation is sure to be followed by a fresh invasion.'

While we do not think that the reasoning in this volume will greatly advance philosophical zoology, we feel tolerably sure that the volume itself will be found readable, entertaining, and, in a modified sense, instructive.

THE CORNISH ALEWIFE.

A SKETCH FROM LIFE.

BY MARY BENNETT.

FAR from the town, where Tamar's waters flow,
An alehouse stood, a hundred years or so;
Quaint was the porch, with ivy clothed about,
And many a comely fowl marched in and out,
Graceful, and plump, and smooth, of glowing hue,
The pride of Molly, and her profit too;

Nor less her pigs, that were so white and clean-
Pigs so precisely trained were never seen.
She was a matchless housewife-sooth to say,
A better never met the face of day.
Full fifty years she kept this hostelry,
Hiding itself in orchard greenery;
And graced with flowers, in rustic garden set,
And shaded pasture-slopes that round it met:
Here the frog leaps, and here the robin sings,
And here the new-fledged linnet tries its wings;
Here Molly's cows regaled on scented clover,
Till night and Kitty called them under cover.
Well they knew Kitty-thrifty and fair was she,
And second mistress of the hostelry.

Few were the guests that brought the hostel gain,
But cheese and butter were not made in vain ;
And Molly's clouted cream was known, I wis,
To fame as far as the metropolis.

'Twas true, though trite, things might have been much worse-
Old Molly might have had a lighter purse;
She might have had a heavier too, but that
She had a mind for charity and chat.
Oft to her porch the wandering beggar came,
With all the news that he could find or frame,
The vagrant gossip of the town and dale,
To charm old Molly for a draught of ale.
And oft his mite, the little that he can,
Brings to the hostel the poor quarryman ;
And finds a large return in warmth and ease,
Kind words, good home-brewed ale, bacon and cheese,
Beans, peas, what not-from Molly's ample stores;
And oft the wind-worn seaman from the shores,
And oft the swarthy miner from the caves,
Old Molly hailed-but never harboured knaves.
In chilling winter, when the wind blows fierce,
And the fell frost's sharp deadly arrows pierce,
How pleasant by the alewife's fire to sit
Warm, snug, and merry! while the gay beams flit
O'er her oak chest, like polished mirror bright,
Her red brick floor, where scarce a soil doth light,
Her milk-white tables, platters ranged with care,
Her folio Bible and her brass-clasped prayer;
Her antiquated prints upon the wall,
Prized as if Raphael had wrought them all,
Her corner cupboard with odd china stores,
(Seldom that precious hoard unclosed its doors);
Her mighty press,' where hung, all on a row,
Her family heir-looms, dresses kept for show.
'Newfangled ways' old Molly hated quite,
As any Chinaman or Muscovite;

As unknown seas, to her were books and schools-
Nature and Gospel furnished all her rules;
These guided safely to the port where meet
The lowly pinnace and the stately fleet,
The nameless bark, the ship with colours spread,
Voyaging to the regions of the dead.

And now old Molly nears that silent strand,
The oar grows powerless in her aged hand;
'Tis dropped! Oh now farewell Life's troubled sea;
Welcome fair harbour of Eternity!

'Fetch me no doctor!' cries the stern old dame;
'I've lived without, and I will die the same:
To parson John's the road's a long ten mile,
Read me a chapter, it will serve the while.

'Kitty, give thou a horn of ale to the poor
Miners and quarrymen when I'm no more:
They'll often miss me, as they pass this way.
I was not flint to them that could not pay,
Beggar or worker-well thou knowest that-
If folk were honest, and observed the mat:
For when I found a poor soul hardly driven,
I lent my mite, and scored it up to Heaven.
And Heaven will pay me truly, there's no fear;

I wish it were much more in my arrear.

Bless God! though I've worked hard, I shall die free
Of the poorhouse, in my own old hostelry.

In thrift and toil I have not been forsaken,
I've had my independent bread and bacon;
Work thou for thine, there thy plain duty lies,
And read the Gospel, girl, and dry thine eyes.
I cannot read, thou know'st, a single word,
But yet I hope old Molly's prayers are heard;
And all is well for me, and Heaven is near,
And I can live or die without a fear.

'Tis midnight now, the moon is in the sky,
Draw back, and let me see it where I lie:
Ay-there it shines-down over moor and mead,
On tree, and bush, and bank, and flower, and weed.
It shineth down where I have lived so long,
Where to my sight a score of memories throng:
There, by that blasted oak, I often played,
With my young brothers when a little maid:
The tree was then as young and fresh as I:
And yonder, Kitty, all my kindred lie;

The old deserted grave-yard is their bed-
Sure I can see the turf o'er Peter's head:
There lay me with him, girl, when I am dead.

'Poor Dick, my bird, I give into thy care,
And I have left thee something for his fare
And for thy comfort. Dost thou weep for that?
Death-tears soon dry, girl-Kitty, mind the cat!

Now, Lord, I am ready; take me to thy rest:
Near ninety years on earth I've been a guest ;
Now I come home to the House prepared by thee-
Set wide the gates, dear Lord, and welcome me.'

The strife is o'er, the beams of morning fall
On that stern image, stern, yet sweet withal;
Stooping decrepitude, old age's dower,
Hath fled, and left the impress of high power;
But what or whence no mortal tongue may say,
Save 'tis the seal of Heaven, though set in clay.
Bring the rude coffin, while the country poor
Stand in mute grief about the hostel door.
True mourners they; and Kitty, faithful soul,
Gives each, for Molly's sake, a funeral dole;
And, sighing at her heart, tends pigs and fowls,
And bird and beast-and when the screeching owls
Raise their wild night-cries, she, with shuddering speed,
Binds bolt and bar, and sits her down to read,
Lonely and sad, beside the hostel fire,

Still anxious that the flames should kindle higher;

For every shadow wears a ghostly gloom,
And seems a wanderer from the awful tomb.

Now goes the alewife to her earth-wrapped kin,
Unclose the turf, and lay her gently in ;
No glittering plate her humble name retains,
No floating pall o'ershades her pale remains :
She needs them not-in pious actions drest,
Death's simplest majesty becomes her best;
Her rustic sense would have despised the rest.

FOREIGN PUBLIC LIBRARIES.

In all ages and countries, a public library is an institution most valuable; but it was particularly so before the introduction of printing, when the price of books rendered it impossible for any but the wealthy to possess them. In early times, such collections shared in the casualties that befell all kinds of property. The fate of the early libraries of Egypt is well known; and also that Rome was enriched with the literary spoils of Greece. But to come down to existing stores, we find that in the middle ages every large church had its library. That of the Vatican, founded by Pope Nicholas in 1450, was destroyed by the Constable Bourbon in the sacking of Rome, but was restored by Pope Sixtus V. in 1588, and has been considerably enriched with the spoils of that of Heidelberg, plundered by Count Tilly in 1622. It now comprises 100,000 printed volumes, and 40,000 manuscripts. The pope has recently issued an order for the public to have access to one department of it, consisting of 35,000 printed volumes, among which are many rare and some unique works, a great number containing marginal notes by celebrated men. The hall of the Great Council at Venice contains the library of St Mark, comprising 65,000 volumes, and about 5000 manuscripts. Petrarch laid its first foundations,' as he expresses himself in a letter respecting the donation of manuscripts that he sent to Venice, as an acknowledgment for the hospitality he found there during the plague. Only a very small number of his manuscripts are now there; but the learned librarian, Morelli, has shown that the Venetians do not deserve the reproach of having allowed Petrarch's library to remain forgotten in a small room where it perished, for he had only given some few books. Twelve years after this donation, Petrarch left at his death a very precious library; but it was dispersed, as is evident from the manuscripts preserved in the Vatican, the Laurentian, the Ambrosian, and the Bibliothèque du Roi; and not one ever reached Venice. About 80,000 volumes and 900 manuscripts are contained in the beautiful library

of Ferrara-one of the most illustrious towns that cherished printing in its infancy. Among the manuscripts are fragments of some cantos of the Orlando Furioso,' covered with corrections, showing how Ariosto revised and polished his poem. The manuscript of theScholastica,' one of his comedies, is very little corrected; but this piece was incomplete when he died, and his brother Gabriele finished it. The manuscript of his satires is in good preservation, and curious for the different corrections in the poet's own hand. Another valuable manuscript is the Gerusalemme,' corrected by Tasso's own hand during his captivity. The words Laus Deo are written by the unfortunate poet at the end of this almost sacred manuscript. There are a great many suppressed passages in it, and several successive pages are sometimes crossed out. The other manuscripts of Tasso include nine letters, dated from the hospital of St Anne; and some verses expressive of sorrow, desolation, and anguish, written from his prison to the magnanimous Duke Alfonso. Here is also the manuscript of Guarini's 'Pastor Fido,' exhibiting some few corrections, chiefly grammatical, by Leonardo Salviati. From Valery's Travels in Italy' we learn that the ancient choir-book of the Carthusians is now in the library, forming eighteen atlas volumes, covered with brilliant miniatures, the work of Cosme's school. Equally magnificent is an atlas Bible, apparently by the same artists. One of the chief rarities is the Musculorum Humani Corporis Pictura Dissectio,' by the great Ferrarese anatomist of the sixteenth century, Giambattista Canani, who had some faint idea of the circulation of the blood-an undated edition, without imprint, but probably of 1541, illustrated with plates engraved by the celebrated Geronimo Carpi.

Cosmo de Medici founded at Florence, in 1560, one of the most complete libraries in Europe. From the intercourse that in his time subsisted between Florence and Constantinople, and the long visits made by the Greek prelates and scholars to Italy, the venerable Cosmo had the best opportunity of obtaining the choicest treasures of ancient learning; and the destruction of Constantinople may be said to have transferred to Italy all that remained of eastern science. After the death of Cosmo, his son Piero pursued with steady perseverance the same object, and made important additions to the various collections which Cosmo had begun, particularly to that of his own family. But although the ancestors of Lorenzo de Medici laid the foundation of the immense collection of manuscripts since denominated the Laurentian Library, he may himself claim the honour of having raised the superstructure. If there was any pursuit in which he engaged more ardently, and persevered more diligently than the rest, it was that of enlarging his collection of books and antiquities. "His messengers," writes Niccolo Leoniceno, "are dispersed throughout every part of the earth, for the purpose of collecting books on every science, and he spares no expense in procuring them." He derived great assistance in his efforts from Ilieronymo Donato, Ermolao Barbaro, and Paolo Cortesi; but his principal coadjutor was Politiano, to whom he committed the care and arrangement of his collection, and who made excursions at intervals through Italy, to discover and purchase such remains of antiquity as suited the purposes of his patron. Two journeys, undertaken at the instance of Lorenzo, into the east, by Giovanni Lascar, produced a great number of rare and valuable works. On his return from his second expedition, he brought with him about two hundred copies, many of which he had procured from a monastery at Mount Athos; but this treasure did not arrive till after the death of Lorenzo.'*

In France, a hundred and ninety-five towns are provided with excellent public libraries, containing altogether about 3,000,000 volumes, arranged in spacious

* Roscoe's Life of Lorenzo de Medici.

rooms, with salaried librarians, every accommodation for readers, and every disposition to assist them. These libraries are open to the use of all classes, even the most obscure applicants; no introduction, no patronage is required; the most valuable works, the most precious engravings, are confided to the inspection of any visitor. The five great public libraries of Paris contain altogether about 1,378,000 volumes. The Bibliothèque de Roi, or the King's Library, is the grand national one. It was founded by Francis I. in 1520. Henry II., in 1559, issued an order requiring booksellers to present to the royal library a bound copy of all the works they published. Under the reigns of Francis II., Charles IX., and Henry III., it received but few additions. Henry IV. (1589) caused it to be removed to Paris. In 1595 the collection of Catherine de Medici, consisting of 800 Latin manuscripts, was added; from this time to 1721 the books were removed from one house to another, in Paris, until, in the latter year, they were finally deposited in their present abode, the Hôtel Mazarin, Rue Richelieu. The library consists of upwards of 800,000 printed volumes, 100,000 manuscripts, and 1,000,000 of historical papers. At the public expense it annually receives an addition of about 15,000 volumes and pamphlets. It is calculated that it contains no less than twenty miles of shelf. The public, without distinction of rank or sex, have free access to this extensive library; but it appears that they are privately watched, to detect any who would mutilate or steal the books. M. Van Praet told Sir Henry Ellis that the secret police sit in the rooms; a system of surveillance which would be deemed offensive by the readers in our English libraries.

All the great libraries in Russia originated in the plunder of those of Courland and Poland. In 1704, Peter I. carried off from the town of Mittau 2500 volumes, which were the nucleus of the Imperial Library. In 1772, Catherine II. seized the collection of the Princes Radzivel at Nieswiecs, consisting of 17,000 volumes. In 1795, the Zaluski Library, estimated by the Russians themselves at 260,000 printed volumes, and 11,000 manuscripts, was transplanted from Warsaw to St Petersburg. After the taking of Warsaw in 1831, the university of that city lost 200,000 volumes, the Philomathic Society 20,000, the library of the Council | of State 36,000, and that of Prince Czartoryski at Palawy 15,000. If we add to these the treasures of the suppressed convents, we shall find, without exaggeration, a total of 700,000 volumes which have been removed to Russia. The Imperial Library at St Petersburg is the richest of the Russian libraries, and ranks as third among the collections of Europe. It contains about 442,800 printed volumes, and 14.480 manuscripts. It is very rich in the literature of Central Asia, and contains the works formerly belonging to Baron Schilling; seventy-three manuscripts of Colonel Stuart, relating to all the most important parts of Sanscrit literature; and also forty-three Mongolian and Thibetan works, collected at Pekin; altogether forming the finest collection of Oriental works in the world. This Imperial Library is open to the public three days in the week, but is visited by comparatively few readers, about eight hundred in the course of the year-an extremely small number for a capital whose population is nearly half a million, without counting the garrison or strangers. The cause of the library being so little used by the people is thus explained by Mr Köhl:- On entering, visitors have to pass a whole cordon of police soldiers, the attendants on the library, who strip them of cloaks and greatcoats, which they return after strictly searching the owners at their departure; and many a one feels so nettled, that he comes no more. On your first visit, you can merely admire the magnitude of the different rooms, the apparent order of the books, and their splendid bindings, attended by a subaltern officer, who relates wonderful things about these literary treasures. To get a book to read in the library itself is all but impossible, though you can point out where it

stands. You must first write down the title in a large register, and then, if it is not lent, and can be found, you are supplied with it on the next library day. But it happens sometimes that you may wait for weeks in vain for a single book. The first time, the entry of the book has perhaps been overlooked, and you must write down the title again; next time, you are told it is not to be found, or the librarian to whose department it belongs is not in the way. Should you be prevented from attending on a library day, you lose your claim to the wished-for book, which has meanwhile been removed from the table; so that you are obliged to go on a fourth or fifth day to enter it again, and at last, on a sixth or seventh, to read it. On the days appointed for reading, you may many a time knock in vain, because it may happen to be one of the numberless festivals of the Russian church. The precautions, on the delivery of a book that is to be taken home, are so great, that one would think the library was merely intended for the safe custody of books, and not for introducing them among the people." '* Besides this imperial collection, Russia possesses forty-two other public libraries, some of which contain 10,000 volumes.

The first circulating or lending library in Europe was established at Wetzlar, in Prussia, by Winkler, the bookseller and printer, towards the close of the seventeenth century. Lately, in the city of Breslau, the Prince-Archbishop has founded a library for the working classes, to whom the books are lent out gratis. The number of volumes contributed to it amounts to nearly 2000.

In 1835, the Gottingen library contained, according to its librarian Dr Benecke, 300,000 works. It is fairly entitled to be designated the most useful library in the world.' It is open every day in the year to students; and free admission, during certain hours, is allowed to every person who may wish to see or refer to any work. Books are lent out daily, without any pledge or remuneration, but they must be returned in a month. Besides an extensive collection of Spanish, French, Italian, and Oriental works, here is a more complete collection of books on English history and literature than one can readily find in Great Britain. The Gottingen library has likewise the recommendation of a scientific or classed catalogue, and an alphabetical one; both kept in a state of strict completeness by the immediate insertion of the new books.

The library at Munich contains 500,000 volumes, but of which one-fifth at the least are duplicates; and the entire length of its shelves is computed to be fifteen miles and a-half.

Ten years ago, the university library at Vienna was reported to possess 100,000 volumes. The emperor's fine private library, an heir-loom in the imperial family, is also accessible to the public; every person being admitted free, without any previous application, and no instances having occurred of books being purloined. Sumptuous and costly works are not put into the hands of the idle and curious, but only into those of the studious, who do not visit the library for the sole purpose of looking at pictures. This library, which was begun by Maximilian I., contains above 300,000 volumes, all of which are admirably arranged and catalogued. Besides a general alphabetic catalogue, wherein all new acquisitions are immediately inserted, there are ten class catalogues; namely, of 12,000 volumes printed before the year 1500; of 6000 works on music; of all the Bibles; of Hebrew works; of Sclavonic books; of Latin manuscripts; of 1000 Oriental manuscripts, besides 800 Chinese and Indian books; of 8000 autographs; of the valuable prints and maps; and a general classified catalogue of scientific books. After seeing what industry and perseverance have accomplished at Vienna, how can we be cajoled by the lazy excuses made for the want of proper catalogues at the British Museum Library!

*Russia in 1842.