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upon the wires is sure to repent of his rashness as soon as his superior officer has time to communicate with him. The special correspondents -each catering for the particular journal to which he is attached-are restricted by no such rule, but travel unfettered in the realms of fancy, speculation, and gossip. The total cost of telegrams to a leading journal in New York city may be estimated at from 75,000 to 100,000 dollars per annum.

The Associated Press machinery is necessarily quite complex; nevertheless, so well organized is the system that, when in competent and trustworthy hands, it works very satisfactorily. Its superintendence requires for success decided executive ability, and much journalistic taste, experience, and tact, coupled with quick perception and great industry. The General Agent must be a good judge of news, that he may know how to direct its judicious collection for the innumerable journals of diverse sentiments and wants which the Association undertakes to serve. He must also be a good business man, to manage satisfactorily the financial affairs of the Association. Without ready energy and decision, he would inevitably become involved and lost in the intricate machinery which he manipulates, and which frequently must need a prompt and steady hand for its adjustment to new conditions and necessities. With these qualities in the General Agent, the Associated Press system operates as regularly and smoothly as that of a well-directed post-office department, which inR some respects it resembles. The present General Agent, Mr. J. W. Simonton, is a graduate of the New York "Times" establishment, a journalist of large experience, who has been successful both as editor and publisher, and is still, we believe, a stockholder in the New York "Times," and half owner of the "Bulletin," the leading paper of San Francisco, California.

The American Press have always resisted the establishment of anything akin to the Reuter system of Europe, which, they claim, leaves journalism more or less at the mercy of a private corporation, with whom Press service, on behalf of the general public, is made secondary to the service of private speculators. About a year ago a former General Agent undertook to convert the machinery of the New York Associated Press to his own use, with a view to creating a private American corporation, similar to Reuter's, for the collection and distribution of the news of the world. So objectionable is that system in the eyes of American newspaper publishers, that the Associated Press waged vigorous battle against their former agent, until they had beaten him out of the field, at a cost for the war of perhaps £10,000.

The History of the Guards' Memorial.


SIR,-The article by Mr. Palgrave, which has appeared in THE BROADWAY, on the "Public Statues in London," alludes to the figure surmounting the Guards' Memorial in Waterloo Place as that of "Victory." It is, however, intended as a representation of "Honour," which would have been evident had I been allowed to place, as part of the decoration in front of the Memorial, the appropriate inscription, "Honour to the Brave." But it is possible that a short account, by the artist himself, of the birth and parentage of a public memorial may be of some interest to your readers.

The Guards' Memorial was the subject of a limited competition which was held in St. James's Palace. My design, which was eventually selected, was simply the group of Guards-Grenadier, Fusilier, and Coldstream-in full marching costume, as they appear in Waterloo Place, in front of a granite obelisk, on which were to be inscribed the names of all those gallant fellows of the Brigade who had fallen in the Crimea. There was no surmounting figure in that design, which was the one whereby I obtained the commission, and which I now have in my studio, open for any one to see. After the design was chosen, there was much discussion as to the site for the proposed Memorial, and, for more than one reason, the Committee under whom I worked came to the conclusion to abandon the obelisk; and I was directed to substitute in its place a figure surmounting a pedestal. The reasons for this became more apparent when Waterloo Place was eventually fixed on for the site, where an obelisk would perhaps, as a tall form, have been too closely in competition with the Duke of York's Column. On this change of plan being adopted, I informed my employers that while the base of an obelisk was one thing, that for a statue was another, and that it ought to be much more decorative in the latter case. This was not at the time entertained by the Committee; and especially as the funds were limited, I was directed to put up a simple pedestal at the back of the soldiers, and it was suggested to me that the figure to surmount it should be that of Victory. But I had two objections to this being the subject-first, that among the other designs at the competition there had been one comprising a surmounting figure of Victory by Mr. Weekes, R.A., and I would avoid plagiarism; and another, that I preferred the idea of Honour as more logical, for we may retain Honour, although we cannot always ensure Victory. The figure of Honour that now stands in Waterloo Place is one of which I had made the design many years before for the centre of Trafalgar Square, when proposing the scheme of two monuments there-viz., of Wellington as well as Nelson, one on either side.

To resume: I said I would follow my instructions, but that I was quite sure that eventually the pedestal would have to be more deco

rated, and so it turned out. When it was put up in its baldness there was a public roar of dissatisfaction about it, and I attempted some economical additions of decoration at the sides which were quite inadequate, and eventually some more subscriptions were obtained which enabled me to mitigate the plainness of the contours with bronze shields and foliage at the sides, and with a trophy of guns at the back. Of course if the funds had been sufficient, I should have put another and varied group at the back, illustrative of the subject of the Memorial, where the guns now rest; but this was not the case, and, indeed, I received less for this large work than the late Mr. Gibson had for his single statue of Sir Robert Peel in Westminster Abbey. I quite feel that the Guards' Memorial might be better, although I should not be sincere in saying that I am ashamed of it. Had the funds been larger, I should have decorated it more all round; and, as it was, I certainly should have affixed in front, in bronze letters, the legend, "Honour to the Brave," if I had been so permitted. His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge took no exception to this, but it was ultimately decided against by the authorities of the Brigade on the score that it might seem like self-laudation, and thus the figure is, even by Mr. Palgrave-and very naturally too perhaps-thought to represent Victory instead of Honour. When trying the full-sized model in plaster up in its place, prior to its being cast in bronze, I recollect some discussion among the chance spectators around me, as to whether it was intended to represent Her Majesty or Miss Nightingale. The ancients, on their triumphal arches and other ornamental public monuments, made much use of inscriptions, not only as explanatory, but as decorative adjuncts; but a British sculptor is denied this aid. It is certain, that although I believe the group of the Guards has found some public favour, yet the back of the Memorial is inadequate. The best mitigation I can now imagine for that is that one day perhaps, some other memorial may be erected dos a dos to it, facing up Regent Street. Although I quite agree with the drift of Mr. Palgrave's observation, that bronze figures should have much outline, yet I do not see in this case how a smaller mass than that presented by the figure of Honour could have adequately surmounted the large pedestal beneath. Nor when it was first put up in bronze did the figure look heavy, as then in the subdued brightness of the metal the details could be seen. But now the atmosphere of London has made it black, and it tells only as a silhouette against the sky. When I first tried it upon the pedestal in white plaster, it had a vastly better effect; and, for my part, I wish all the bronze statues in London could be made white, and that some infinitely thin enamel might be discovered for them by our excellent chemists that would keep the surface pure, when perhaps we poor sculptors of England might be in more favour as compared with our brethren abroad, who have the advantage, even in their cities, of a clear atmosphere and a brighter sun. I am, sir, yours obediently,

15, Douro Place, Victoria Road, Kensington.


For Music.

THE summer days are ended;
The after-glow is gone;
The nights grow long and eerie ;
The winds begin to moan;
The pleasant leaves are fading;
The bonny swallows flee;
Yet welcome is the Winter
That brings my love to me.

No voice of bird now ripples
The air; no wood-walk rings;
But in my happy bosom

The soul of Music sings.
It sings of dearest heaven,
And summers yet to be;
Then welcome is the Winter
That brings my love to me.

A world of gathered sunshine
Is this warm heart of mine,
Where life hath heapt the fruitage,
And love hath hid the wine.
And though it leave no flower
In field, nor leaf on tree;
Yet welcome is the Winter
That brings my love to me.








No hindrance befel Brakespeare and his squire on their journey to Bordeaux. Whilst in garrison there long ago, Ralph had had acquaintance with diverse merchants and burghers of the better class. With one of these he bestowed their horses and harness; for he was minded to land in England in the guise of a peaceful traveller, bearing no outward signs of his profession or estate, beyond estoc and dagger and golden spurs.

The communication between Bordeaux and Southampton, if not so rapid, was nearly as constant then as now-a-days. The breeze blew steady from the south-east, and the galliot on which they embarked was a moderately-swift sailer, and staggered along under press of sail-at fair speed-oven through the rollers of the Biscayan Bay. On the fifth morning, they were slipping along under the lee of the Wight, and anchored safely in port before noon. The knight had left the chief part of his worldly wealth at Hacquemont; but the leathern belts, which both he and his follower wore under their doublets, were well stuffed with bezants and golden crowns. So, with little delay or difficulty, they provided themselves in Southampton town with two stout hackneys, and a pack-horse to carry their mails; and a three days' ride brought them to Southwark without distressing their cattle.

Fully a quarter of a century had passed away, since those two rode last through Kentish Street; yet not a feature of the place seemed changed. The heavy gables and hanging eaves of the houses on either side looked not a whit more weather-beaten; the window-panes of horn or glass not a whit duskier with dust or grime. The same hideous shapes of beggary, sickness, and decrepitude beset the travellers-croaking or screeching for alms; the same ill-favoured

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