within his reach, in a lump of soft felt, or, perhaps beaver, he noticed something that glittered. Peter drew it away from the soft material it was lying among, and looked at it. It was a sort of gold band -perhaps it was gold lace, for it was flexible he had often heard of gold lace, but had not seen any. As he drew it away something else that depended from a morsel of the lump of rag fell away from it, and dropped at his feet. It might have been some sort of badge or ornament, but it was not perfect, though it still glittered, for it had threads of gold wrought in it. "This is almost in the shape of an anchor," said Peter, as he wrapped the gold band round it, "and I think it must have been lost here for ages; perhaps ever since that old Uncle Mortimer that I saw was a little boy."

So then with the piece of gold band wrapped round his hand he began to press on, and if he had not stopped to mark the places where two or three more nests were, he would have been quicker still.

On and on, how dangerously delightful his adventure had been! What would become of him if he could not get down to-morrow?

On and on, his heart beat with exultation; he was close to the steps and he had not been discovered; he was close to the top of them and had not been discovered; he was just about to climb over when he heard a cry that rang in his ears long after, a sharp, piercing cry, and turning he saw his great-grandmother in her cloak and hood standing in the entrance of the alcove, and reaching out her hands as if she wanted to come and meet him, but could not stir.

"Peter! Peter! Peter!" she cried, and her voice seemed to echo all over the place.

Peter tumbled over the gate as fast as he possibly could; and as she still cried, he ran to her at the top of his speed.

All in a moment she seemed to become quite still, and though she trembled as she seized him, she did not scold him at all; while he mumbled out, "I only just went down for a very little while. I only wanted just to look for my top; I didn't take any of the nests," he continued, mentioning the most valuable things he had been amongst, according to his own opinion.

His grandmother had let go his hand and raised herself upright; her eyes were on the bit of gold band. "What's that?" she said faintly.

"It's nothing particular," said Peter, unwinding it slowly from his hand, and humbly giving it up." It's nothing but a little sort of a gold band and an ornament that I found stuck in a tree." Then Peter, observing by her silence how high his misdemeanour had been, began to sob a little, and then to make a few excuses, and then to say he hoped his grandmother would forgive him. No answer.

"I wish I hadn't done it," he next said. He felt that he could not say more than that, and he looked up at her. She was not regarding him at all, not attending to what he had said, her face was very white, she was clutching the bit of gold lace in her hand, and her wide-open eyes were staring at something above his head.

"Peter! Peter! Peter!" she cried again, in a strangely sharp and ringing voice. It seemed as if she would fall, and Peter caught hold of her arm and held her, while the thought darted through his mind, that perhaps she had called him at first because she was ill, and wanted him to hold her, not because she had observed his visit to the garden. He felt sure she could hardly stand, and he was very much frightened, but in a moment the nurse, having heard her cry, came running out, and between them they guided her to her chair in the alcove.

"I'm very sorry, grandmother," Peter sobbed, "and really, really I didn't take any nest or lilies or anything at all, but only that bit of stuff. I'll never do it again."

As he spoke he saw his mother and aunt coming up with looks of grief and awe, and on looking into his grandmother's face he beheld, child that he was, a strange shadow passing over it, the shadow of death, and he instinctively knew what it was.

"Can't you move poor grandmother out of the sun?" he sobbed. "O do! I know she doesn't like it to shine in her eyes."

"Hush! hush!" his mother presently found voice enough to say amid her tears. "What can it signify?"

After that Peter cried very heartily because everybody else did, but in a little while when his grandmother had been able to drink some cordial, and while they were rubbing her cold hands, she opened her eyes, and then he thought perhaps she was going to get better. O, how earnestly he hoped it might be so!

But there was no getting better for Madam Melcombe. She sat very still

for some minutes, and looked like oneness, my dears," she said, "all your kindnewly awakened and very much amazed, ness. I may as well go to them now; then, to the great surprise of those about they've been waiting for me a long time. her, she rose without any aid, and stood Good Lord!" she exclaimed, lifting up holding by her high staff, while, with a her eyes, "Good Lord! what a meeting slightly distraught air, she bowed to them, it will be !" first one and then another.

"Well, I thank you for all your kind

Then she sank down into her chair again, and in a moment was gone.

and Mytilus polymorphus, Pall. Is it possible that the animal matter of these molluscs, under peculiar conditions of decomposition, could have yielded the hydrocarbonaceous products in question? Academy.

IMMEDIATELY outside the sacred fane of | tained only shells of Cardium trigonoides, Pall., Ataschkja, where the eternal fires of Baku are religiously guarded, extensive chemical works have within the last few years been established for the preparation of petroleum. Here the combustible gases as they issue from the soil are collected and ultimately utilized as a source of heat in distilling the naphtha which is so abundantly distributed throughout the peninsula of Abscheron. A visit to this remarkable locality has enabled Herr Trautschold, of Moscow, to lay before the German Geological Society an interesting paper, "Ueber die Naphtaquellen von Baku," which appears in the current number of the Society's Zeitschrift. Accompanying the memoir is a map of the peninsula on which Baku is situated, showing the distribution of the numerous mud-volcanoes, the springs of naphtha, and the sources of the inflammable gases. Four distinct kinds of springs may be distinguished, according as they yield fresh water, salt water, naphtha, or gaseous products. The gases are most abundant in the neighbourhood of Ssurachany, while the naphtha is found chiefly in the district of Balachany. It would appear, however, that the soil throughout the entire district is more or less charged with naphtha; thus it exudes from the ground in company with the gaseous hydrocarbons, and it floats upon the surface of the salt water in the mud-volcanoes. The naphtha profusely thrown out from these sources becomes inspissated by exposure to the atmosphere, and ultimately hardens to a solid. bituminous mass. This consolidated naphtha, known under its Tatar name of kir, is not only used as a fuel, but is employed in the town of Baku for roofing and other purposes. The naphtha is chiefly derived from beds of sand and sandstone of Upper Tertiary age, but the ultimate origin of this and of the gaseous hydrocarbons is a standing enigma to the chemical geologist. Trautschold could find in the naphtha-bearing beds no trace of vegetable structures which might have yielded the organic materials, and from some excavations in sand charged with naphtha he ob

Ir seems to be very probable that the culti vation of sugar in Porto Rico, which has to a great extent succeeded that of cotton, will eventually give place to the growth of coffee on a large scale. Referring to this subject the British consul says: "The geographical configuration of the island would almost lead to the anticipation that some less succulent plant than the cane should supersede it in the district of Guayama. Some of the most fertile lands of the island are situated in it, and in favourable seasons no other part of Porto Rico can rival its fecundity; but the island is divided from east to west by a range of moun tains, the highest of which, Laquillo, is at the extreme east, and at the southern foot of this mountain Guayama is situated. The tradewinds blowing from the north-east cause the rain-clouds to strike the northern side of Laquillo, and they are carried along the northern face of the Sierra, a limited portion passing over their summits to the south side. Thus Guayama and Ponce are subject to drought. In the rich and populous district of Ponce this natural impediment has been overcome by an efficient system of irrigation, but Guayama is less favourably situated in all respects; its position immediately south of Laquillo too often occasions the drought to continue, the soil is burnt up and divested of all fertility, and the residents are neither suffi ciently rich nor sufficiently numerous to artifi cially irrigate their lands as their neighbours in Ponce have done. The consequence is, that the crops are very uncertain in their yield, and it is expected that if something is not done to ensure irrigation, there will very soon be no produce at all."

Nature.

IN MEMORY OF BARRY CORNWALL.

Pall Mall Gazette,

444

Victoria Magazine,

447

TO DEATH,

By Algernon Charles Swinburne, 386 TO DEATH: AN ECHO,

386 386

IX. A VANDAL VENICE. I.

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To the beautiful veiled bright world where the glad ghosts meet,

Child with father, and bridegroom with bride, and anguish with rest,

No soul shall pass of a singer than this more

MR. LOWELL'S POEMS.

From The Cornhill Magazine. on the splashy India-rubber-like marshes of native Jaalam." And truly, though MANY years ago, being in profound the phrase be intentionally grotesque, it ignorance of all things American, we is but a quaint exaggeration of the truth. happened to stumble upon a copy of the It was impossible even for readers scanBiglow Papers, then fresh from the press. dalously ignorant of the real meaning of The allusions to contemporary political the great warfare in which he was an details were as obscure to us as an effective combatant, not to recognize the Egyptian hieroglyphic. We should have genuine literary force concealed under been hopelessly floored by the questions this eccentric mask. Later familiarity, which will probably be set in some exam- enlightened by the course of that warfare, ination paper of the future. What was has only increased our affection for the that "darned Proviso matter" about Biglow Papers. Indeed, we find it diffiwhich a distinguished candidate "never cult to think of any exact parallel for had a grain of doubt"? Who was "Da- their characteristic merits. The now vis of Miss."? and why was he likely to half-forgotten "Rolliad" and the poetry place the perfection of bliss in "skinning of the " Anti-Jacobin" are to some exthat same old coon"? What was the tent of a similar character. The "Rolplan which "chipped the shell at Buffalo liad" is full of satire, brilliant enough, as of setting up old Van"? Upon these one might have thought, to escape the and numberless other difficulties, some common doom of most merely personal of which, it may be added, still remain invective. The "Anti-Jacobin" is perburied for us in the profoundest night, haps wittier, as to Englishmen it is still we could only look in the spirit which more intelligible than the Biglow Papers. causes a youthful candidate to twist his The ode of the "Needy Knife-grinder,' hair into knots, and vaguely interrogate for example, has a fine quality of wit, which universal space in hopes of an answer. has given it a permanent place in popuBut dark as the allusions might be, there lar memory, and it will probably be prewas a spirit and humour in Mr. Biglow's ferred by literary critics even to the utterutterances which shone through all su- ances of Mr. John P. Robinson. But perficial perplexities. Whatever might there is a characteristic difference bebe the cause of his excitement, there tween the two, which tells on the oppocould be no doubt of the amazing shrewd-site side. The "Knife-grinder" is subness of his homely satire. John P. Rob-tantially an expression of the contempt inson, in particular, became a cherished with which the have-alls regard both the favourite, and his immortal saying about the ignorance of certain persons "down in Judee" was a household word thenceforward. In short, we enjoyed the rare pleasure of the revelation of a new intellectual type, and one of no common vig-you, who grind my knives, have only our and originality. "Through coarse enough to keep body and soul together. Thersites' cloak," says the pseudo-Car- If anybody should try to persuade you lyle, the best parody of the original we that this arrangement is not part of the ever encountered, whose critique is pre- everlasting order of things, he is a fixed to the collected poems, "we have wretched humbug, who really wants, by revelation of the heart, world-glowing, trading upon your discontent, to get a world-clasping, that is in him. Bravely larger share of the said loaves and fishes he grapples with the life-problem as it for himself." Now this may be, and, presents itself to him, uncombed, shaggy, careless of the nicer proprieties,' inexpert of 'elegant diction,' yet with voice audible enough to whoso hath ears, up there on the gravelly side-hills, or down

lack-alls and the wicked demagogues who would trade upon their discontent. Translated into prose, it would run somewhat to this effect: "I, the poet, have a large share of the loaves and fishes, and

with certain limitations, it probably is, most excellent common sense, but it can scarcely be called a generous or elevated sentiment. The fishwife preaching to the eels to lie still whilst she is skinning