MR. BOOTH's reappearance has been hailed

with a general acclamation. There is a very large class of people who have an intense admiration for Mr. Booth's acting, and everybody too has felt sympathy for his pecuniary misfortunes as a manager, and for his sufferings in the recent accident that came so near i depriving the stage of him altogether. It must be conceded, moreover, even by those who question Mr. Booth's great genius as an

T

From Abroad.

OUR PARIS LETTER. October 12, 1875.

lustrations by Gustave Doré. It is to be issued in fortnightly numbers, each number to contain sixteen pages of text and four fullpage illustrations printed separate from the text. The first number will be published on the 18th of this mouth, and each one will cost one dollar and twenty cents. Twenty-five numbers will complete the work, which will form, when finished, two large folio volumes. Firmin Didot & Co. have in press a "Dic

head of the American stage. It may be shown that his Hamlet and bis Richelieu are far from being the great impersonations his friends think them to be, but, after all, where can we turn to find better ones?

Mr. Booth opened at Daly's Theatre on the night of October 25th, appearing in Hamlet. He brings to the rendition of this part many new phases. Mr. Booth has not shown marked steadfastness in any of his personations. It will be said by his friends that this is only proof of continual study, of the growth and development of his conceptious; but there is some evidence to show that these changes are often the result of uncertain grasp and wandering purpose. The new Hamlet-for so different is it as now given from the actor's former renditions that it bears this description-is improved in some of the details, but is scarcely an advance in depth of reach or elevation of feeling. There are so many fine touches and so many weak points in it, so many things suggested by the acting of some of the scenes, that the personation calls for a more elaborate and careful criticism than we can find room for this week. We hope, however, to be able, at some future time, to give the now most generally admired Hamlet of the stage an analysis in some measure worthy of the subject.

THE reappearance of Herr Wachtel in German opera at the Academy of Music has reawakened among his countrymen something of the same enthusiasm which welcomed his first coming to America, though we do not think there is the same beartiness and fervor shown on the part of the American public. The ad captandum qualities of the German tenor do not wear altogether well, and, great a singer as he unquestionably is in many respects, his defects are very conspicuous. But in

every thing that savors of a tour de force, in all the climaxes where the largest measure of singing and dramatic force must be put forth, Wachtel is worthy of the highest praise. It is in the sustained singing that we think he falls short of artistic excellence. It may be that this is deliberate for the purpose of saving the voice for the great efforts. But no artist of Wachtel's rank should feel this necessity. His use of the falsetto in the high notes of the less brilliant passages is a rick which would hardly be tolerated outside of Germany or America. His electrifying outbursts, his superb acting, and perfect Command of all the resources of stage effect, are such, however, as to dwarf the defect we have mentioned for any but a very critical and fastidious audience, who demand perfecty artistic singing at the expense of every ching and any thing else. The company of

She

has been vouchsafed to blasé Paris during the past week. The celebrated American adventuress and heroine of the Russian diamond scandal, Mrs. Blackford, has published a book giving a full account of her adventures in Russia. The work is in itself' nowise remarkable, but as it contains several of the letters which the young Grand-duke Nicholas was infatuated enough to write to the lady, it has been much sought after by the curious. Those who really wanted to read it, did well to be in a hurry to purchase it; for three days after the book had made its first appearance it was seized by the police, and the fair authoress was ordered to quit Paris forthwith. has gone to London, where she will negotiate, it is said, for an English edition of her book (the present one is in French), containing all the papers of the grand-duke which remain at present in her hands, some of which are said to treat of very important political questions. The will which he made in her favor, and also a deed settling on her a large annual income, were purchased from her by the Russian Government for the sum of forty thousand dollars, and it is rumored that fifty thousand dollars was offered for the grand-duke's letters, but the lady insisted upon receiving twice as much, and the negotiations came to naught. Why so much fuss should have been made about her book (which is entitled "The Romance of an American Woman in Russia," and was published in Brussels) is hard to imagine, for it is commonplace enough, and even the letters of the imperial and infatuated lover possess but little interest.

The only incident worth recalling in the volume is the scene where the lady breaks one of her ivory hair-brushes over the head of the grand-duke, and he throws the other out of the window for fear of a repetition of the blows. And yet the woman in question is a very type of delicate, fragile beauty, slender, pensive, and refined-looking, with long, almond-shaped, dark eyes, an exquisitely-proportioned figure, and the grace and style of a born American. Apart from the paint which she puts on her lips, and other artificial enhancements of her charms, she might readily be mistaken for a lady belonging to the choicest of all possible mondes instead of to the demi-monde. She has added to her numerous aliases that of Fanny Lear, the name of the heroine of one of the most powerful comedies of Meilhac and Halévy. And why this long discussion, one would naturally ask, about a woman and a book, neither of which are worth mentioning? That may be, and yet to mention neither would simply be to ignore a very marked Parisian sensation. The papers for the past few days have devoted whole columns to the subject, the portrait of Mrs. Blackford-FeenixFanny Lear smiles from the windows of all the photograph-sellers on the boulevards, and from six to twenty dollars are already offered for single copies of the suppressed vol

unie.

New books and announcements of new books abound. Furne, Jouvet & Co. announce a "History of the Crusades," by M.

It

Sciences thereunto attached," by Ernest Bosc, architect. This work is also to be issued in numbers. It will contain, when finished, four thousand woodcuts in the text, sixty full-page wood-engravings printed apart from the text, and forty chromo-lithographs. will form four octavo volumes. E. Plon & Co. have just issued the second volume of "Equatorial Africa," by the Marquis de Compiègne, illustrated with a map and numerous woodcuts. The Librairie des Bibliophiles is shortly to publish a work entitled "Comédiens et Comédiennes," the first series of which is to be the Comédie Française, with text by Francisque Sarcey, and illustrations by Léon Gaucheret. Of new novels any quantity are announced, some as being just ready, and others as in course of preparation. Octave Feuillet's lovely "Mariage dans le Monde" has just been published by Michel Lévy. E. Dentu issued "Le Chevalier Ténébre," by Paul Féval, and “An Actress's Vengeance," by Henri Augu. The same house announces Colonel Chamberlain," by Hector Malot; "The Veiled Lady," by Emile Richebourg; and "The Book of Exile," by the late Edgar Quinet, From the Biblio| thèque Charpentier we are shortly to have "Still Waters" (L'Eau Dormante), by Lucien Biart; and "La Comédie Académique," by Champfleury. The Librairie Sartorius is about to issue a novel by Clémence Badère, with the highly-sensational title of "The Physician Poisoner," and also Morel's "Hélène Brunet," a novel which is so hideously immoral that the Figaro, in whose columns it was first issued as a feuilleton, was compelled to break it off short in the middle, and to apologize for ever having commenced it. The Figaro is shortly to begin the publication of a new novel by Xavier de Montepin, entitled "The Secret of the Countess."

The veteran actor Bressant, who was recently threatened with paralysis, is much better, and will shortly return to the boards of the Comédie Française. A propos of Bres-sant, a story is told respecting him and Jules Janin, which well exemplifies the uneasy vanity of the great critic. He published one day a highly favorable notice of the acting of Bressant in a new play. The actor, for some reason or other, neglected to thank him or to take any notice of his article. From that time to the day of his death, Jules Janin never mentioned Bressant's name in any one of his dramatic criticisms. When forced to speak of the characters in which he performed in order to give a full account of the different plays, he would always speak of him as the actor who took such a part, the person who played the hero," etc. On the other hand, it is whispered abroad that, Francisque Sarcey having warmly praised certain points in La Dame aux Camélias of Mademoiselle Tallandiera, the grateful actress sent him a diamond ring, which the great critic sent back at once, accompanying the returned offering with a very stern and severe letter.

"Rose Michel" has been revived at the Ambigu, with Fargueil in her original part as

the heroine, and with Chorley as the husband -a character which he plays so magnificently as almost to throw the fine actress whom he supports into the shade. What a strange history has been that of this much-talked-of melodrama! Though a success in Paris, it was a failure in London, and no wonder, for, though it is a play possessing very considerable merit, it was so atrociously acted that failure was inevitable, for even Shakespeare himself appears wearisome when very badly played. The scene in the theatre on the solitary night of "Rose Michel" in London must have been very funny, for the gallery -gods got awfully impatient at the drawling delivery of the principal actress, and indulged in audible comments thereupon. Then the representative of George de Buissey presented himself, in the scene after that wherein his cries, as he was being put to the torture, were heard, very trim and elegant, in a white-satin doublet with silken hose to match, whereupon the gods made some more forcible observations respecting the incongruity of his attire and situation.

into his oven, whence in a few minutes it would come forth well cooked and savory. I think that he has signed a thousand works, dramas, and novels. He has been accused with having stolen the half of them. That is not true. The oven belonged to him. No matter from what quarter came the paste, so long as he had not kneaded, retouched, and watched over it, it had no value. He corrected the mould, recombined the elements, and superintended the baking. One of his comedies, the Demoiselles de St. - Cyr,' which achieved more than a hundred representations, was, when it fell into his hands, nothing more than a little unformed vaudeville, which its author sold for fifty francs. He was at once a wit, a, poet, a manufacturer, and an engineer."

Here is a sketch of Bismarck: "This redoubtable contemporary, who has already his coat-of-arms, and whose father was the guardian of a state fortress, the Prince von Bismarck, is a human enigma, who has in his service the strangest of faculties. History can alone solve this riddle. He might replace his armorial bearings by a silver sphinx on a fieldgules. It is not yet time to judge this wild Richelieu of the Baltic. But a quality which cannot be denied to him is a power of pene

The recently-published and posthumous work of Philarète Chasles, notwithstanding its very untempting title ("The Social Psychology of New Nations"), is full of sparkle and charm, united to a depth of erudition and a felicity of criticism which are truly remarkable. I select a few passages, which may be found interesting. Here is a criticism on the relations of Napoleon I. with the fair sex: "It can be said, and with truth, that Napoleon, a true sultan without wives, was vanquished by women! He passed his life in protecting himself against them, which was manly; in insulting them, which was vulgar; in irritating them, which was imprudent. It is well known how he acted toward Marie Louise, toward Mudame Walewski, toward Madame de Staël, toward Queen Louisa of Prussia, toward that unhappy Princess de Solms, the sister of Queen Louisa, whom he met at a ball, and whose life might indeed have been made the subject of criticism, but that criticism should have been private. 'Well, princess, are you still fond of men?' 'Yes, sire, when they are polite.' The strange explanation of this brutality is not that he disliked women, but that he feared them."

Here is a just and vivid picture of the genius of the elder Dumas: "That extraordinary talent, that tropical genius, powerful, abundant, ardent, mobile, and entirely physical, did not need to create a work. It warmed

into life whatever it encountered. A Protestant refugee at Rotterdam had published in that city, about the year 1700, three wretched little volumes of a tolerably happy invention, but diffuse and vulgar in style. Dumas made of them the entertaining history of the 'Trois Mousquetaires.' You might bring him a history of any kind, a subject well or ill treated, the astonishing artist would cast the paste

his youthful observations, which was sharpened by his sojourn in France, and which is marvelously aided by his natural boldness and his brusquerie, assumed or real, and which permit him to manage, I will not say to deceive, mankind. When he busied himself with overthrowing the scaffolding of the ancient little feudal principalities of Germany, he was thought to be a democrat, and all democrats hastened to follow in his train. When, afterward, he brought up the old grievances of the Prussian monarchy against us, and raised up the trivial Spanish quarrel of the Hohenzollerns, so insanely accepted by the representatives and masters of France, the Prussian feudalists, then taking him for the most monarchical of royalists and the most feudal of feudalists, fought at his side as one man. This enigmatical series of problems is not yet ended."

This criticism of Mozart by Italian appreciation sixty years ago is curious, and reminds one of the "Tannhäuser" hissed from the Parisian stage some few years past.

"It may be remembered that Mozart in Milan in 1815 was looked upon as a barbarous composer, whose troppo robusta music, as the Italian critic Baretti phrased it, 'might possibly please, not the nightingales that sing, but the asses that bray.'"

An unfortunate clock-maker of the Quartier Latin, named Marambot, having shot the seducer of his daughter, Alexandre Dumas comes out with a long article as a pendant to his "Tue-la!" wherein he no longer cries "Kill her!" but, more sensibly, "Kill him!" The peculiar and cold-blooded indelicacy of style of the great author, when he plies his pen in behalf of these social problems, prevents me from giving any extracts. I was struck, however, with one passage, wherein he advocates a change from the invariable French practice of bringing up young girls in ignorance and in leading-strings. "Teach them the dangers that environ them, and let them guard against them themselves," would be the advice of an American, and such substantially is that of M. Dumas. "She would know, it is true, what a young girl ought not to be told, but, on the other hand, she would know what a young girl ought not to do." Come, thenif American training is advocated in Paris by

such an advocate, there is hope for the future of Parisian society, after all. LUCY H. HOOPER.

OUR LONDON LETTER. THE best thing appearing in Mrs. RossChurch's magazine, London Society, just now, is Mr. Joseph Hatton's "The True Story of Punch." Mr. Hatton, as you know, is the author of some clever novels, and editor of our best-informed theatrical paper, the Hornet. He knew personally most of the old Punch mon-Douglas Jerrold, Thackeray, Mark Lemon, for instance; and he quotes more than one characteristic and hitherto unpublished letter from them. Of Jerrold, especially, he writes lovingly. Take this paragraph, for in stance:

man

"A score of stories of Jerrold occur to me, though it is too late to add any new ones to the record, for his wit and humor' have been carefully collected and published. There are a few good things, however, which will bear repetition. 'Nature has written "honest his face,' said a person trying to upon make interest for his friend with Jerrold. 'Then Nature must have had a very bad pen,' was the prompt reply. Everybody knows how he revenged himself upon a pompous fop, who had made himself offensively conspicuous at a club dinner where sheep's head was a favorite dish. Pushing his plate aside, the stranger exclaimed, 'Well, I say, sheep's head forever!' 'What egotism!' remarked Jerrold. This, no doubt, led up to a kindred flash of wit on another occasion, at the expense of a literary friend of Jerrold's, who had just ordered Some sheep's-tail soup waiter.' Ab,' said Jerrold, looking up, and smiling with his great eyes, 'extremes meet sometimes.' There was an old gentleman who drove a very slow pony in a ramshackle gig, and he was anxious one day to pay Jerrold a little special attention. The humorist was on his way to the station from his house.

،

Ah, Mr. Jerrold,' said the old gentleman, 'shall I give you a lift?' 'No, thank you,' said Jerrold, 'I am in a hurry. In the country, on a visit, Jerrold was told, among other gossip, of a young man in the neighborhood named Ure, who had cruelly jilted his sweetheart. Ure seems to be a base 'un,' said Jerrold. At a ball, seeing a very tall gentleman waltzing with a very short lady, Jerrold said, 'There's a mile dancing with a mile-stone.' The author of an epic poem entitled 'A Descent into Hell' used to worry Jerrold very much. At last the wit grew irritated with the poet, who, coming bounding upon him with the question,Ah, Jerrold, have you seen my "Descent into Hell?" was answered, with quick asperity, 'No; I should like to !'"

You may like to know that our new lordmayor, Alderman Cotton, M. P., is a literary man-at least, he has written both poetry and prose. The former is passable (one volume of it was dedicated, by permission, to Charles Dickens, another volume to the late Lord Lytton); the latter has dwelt mainly on financial matters in the city.

Mr. Irving is being considerably "chaffed" by the poetasters over his Macbeth. They poke boisterous fun at him because of his make-up and "mouthing." This (condensed) is from the Figaro, the editor of which, Mr. James Mortimer, is at daggers drawn with the young tragedian, and will persist in always calling him in print "the Eminent 1."

"THE FALL OF THE EMINENT 1. ""Twas in the prime of autumn-time, An evening calm and cool, And full two thousand cockneys went To see him play the fool; And the critics filled the stalls, as thick As the balls in a billiard-pool.

"He wore pink tights-his vest apart, To clutch his manly chest;

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And he went at the knees in his old, old way,
While his brow he madly prest;.

So he whispered and roared, and gasped and groaned,

As with dyspepsia possest.

Act after act he ranted through,

And he strode for many a mile,

Till some were ready to leave the house,

Too weary to even smile;

For acting murderers' parts so oft

Had somewhat marred his style.

"But he took six more hasty strides

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Across the stage again

Six hasty strides-then doubled up,
As smit with searching pain;
As though to say, 'See me create

The conscience-stricken thane!'

Then leaping on his feet upright,

Some moody turns took he;

Now up the stage, now down the stage,
And now beside Miss B.;

And, looking off, he saw her ma,
As she read in the R. U. E.

"Now, Mrs. B., what is't you read?'

Asked he, with top lip curving.

Queen Mary? A play by Mr. Wills?
Or something more deserving?'

Said Mrs. B., with an upward glance,
"It is "The Fall of Irving!""

"One night, months thence, while gentle sleep Had stilled the city's heart,

Two bill-stickers set out with paste,

And play-bills, in a cart,

And the Eminent 1 had his name on them,
In a melodramatic part."

Mr. Mortimer, I may add here, is about to start an illustrated daily paper, after the style of your own Graphic. He is advertising for capitalists to join him in the venture, and doubtless will get them, for there's always plenty of money forthcoming for literary enterprises. Besides, Mr. Mortimer is one of the most energetic of our journalists. He has stuck to the Figaro through thick and thin; and now see the result! After more than once altering its price, size, and date of publication -at first it was a penny "daily," now it is a penny "weekly " "-he has made it a success. An illustrated daily, well done, would, I am sure, have a very large circulation here.

In a week or two Mr. Toole will begin an engagement at his favorite London house, the Gaiety. Mr. Mathews is still personating the "awful dad" there; but, to put it as mildly as possible, "standing-room" can always be had. This will hardly be the case when Mr. Toole visits us again, for the first time since his American tour. Already every seat has been "booked" for the opening night. How popular he is with cockneys, to be sure! As for the provincials, they too swear by him-never at him, as they do in the case of some other stars" I could name.

Mr. Sims Reeves's sons follow in the footsteps of their father. They are sweet singers. One of them will soon make his appearance in public. He is said to have an excellent tenor voice; his brother's voice is a fine barytone.

Your countryman, Colonel Jeems Pipes, Thas been "drawing" large audiences in the provinces; by-and-by he will make his debut in London-a fact which reminds me that Mr. J. P. Burnett and Miss Jennie Lee have already arrived here from San Francisco. It is probable that they will open at the Queen's; neanwhile, Mr. Burnett is being taken to the bosoms of our clubs.

TRUMPET.

AMONG the many objects of interest ex

hibited by Austria at the late Vienna Exposition was the Nebelhorn, or Austrian fogtrumpet. At stated and not infrequent periods the attention of the traveling public is directed to the positive need of some efficient means of signaling during a fog at sea. At such times all the common signals, such as lights, whistles, bells, etc., are of no avail. The recent wreck of the Schiller upon the very rocks that formed the foundation of two light-houses and the still more recent disaster to the Vanguard in the Irish Channel, prove that, until we have solved this problem of fog-signals, one great danger of the deep must still be unabated. In former communications we have laid before our readers the opposing theories of Henry and Tyndal! regarding the effect of fogs upon the transmission of sound-waves, and it may yet be safe

to affirm that the question has not been conclusively answered. While these eminent observers have devoted their energies to the oretical tests of the best methods for producing sounds that will penetrate the fogclouds, others, directly interested in the practical bearing of the subject, have been occupied in constructing instruments which shall create sounds of sufficient strength to serve the desired purpose. In the JOURNAL for February 13, 1875, an illustrated description was given of certain recent forms of fog-guns and sound-reflectors, and we would now direct attention to this new Austrian Nebelhorn, the form of which is shown in the accompanying illustration, which was placed at the disposal of Major Elliot, and by him given to the public in his recent valuable and interesting report* on European light-house systems. From the report which accompanied the illustration we learn that this apparatus was formerly operated by compressed air, which has now been replaced by steam. The notes are

*European Light-House Systems, being a Report of a Tour of Inspection made in 1873. By Major George H. Elliot. New York: D. Van Nostrand.

menter. The notes may be formed automatically and at given intervals, or may be governed by means of a finger-board, so that they may serve the purpose of correspondence as well as of a general signal. This instrument has a most extraordinary power, having been heard at a distance of sixteen nautical miles. It can be put up directly over the boiler or connected with it at a distance with a pipe. Mounted upon a pivot, it can be directed toward any desired point; and, where several are in use upon the same coast, a separate combination of notes may be made, so that each instrument may be distinguished from its neighbor. By means of the fingerboard, long or short notes may be sounded at will and with great accuracy, and communications may be made at night as well as in fogs and snow-storms. By the aid of an alphabetical formula a regular system of sound-telegraphy may be established.

The

illustration here given is that of a trumpet,

the steam for which is obtained from an eighthorse-power boiler under a pressure of twentyfive pounds to the square inch, and by its aid thirty blasts may be produced in thirty seconds, audible at a distance of fifteen nautical miles. A small machine connected with the boiler operates the automatic, distributing steam-valve.

By the aid of this trumpet, mounted thirty feet above the sea at the harbor of Trieste, signals according to the Morse method were plainly distinguished at a distance of six nautical miles. As a mechanism dependent upon the use of steam, it is evident that trumpets of this form might be made to render efficient service on board of steamers; and, had the Grand-Duke and the Vanguard been so equipped, not only would they have avoided each other, but the fact that the latter had changed its course might have been directly telegraphed to the fleet, together with the causes which rendered the change necessary. The Nebelhorn is the invention of Giovanni Amandi, of the Technical Institute of Trieste, and this his first trumpet was awarded a medal of merit at the Vienna Exposition.

In the course of our recent editorial discussion regarding the true purpose and limit of governmental functions, reference was made to the geographical expedition now engaged under the sole patronage of an American and English newspaper in exploring the interior lands and lakes of Africa. Hardly had we given expression to these views in support of such private efforts as against those requiring the aid of the government when the New York Herald published, with a just pride, the first letter from its "own correspondent," Henry M. Stanley. This communication bore date March 1, 1875, and was dispatched from the "village of Kagehyi, district of Ucambi, Usukuma, on the Victoria Niyanza." Although the explorer had but then reached the boundary of the mysterious country into which he had been ordered to penetrate, yet the story of the march is one of sufficient interest to suggest a brief review, and to this the attention of the reader may be directed. As originally constituted, the expedition numbered four Englishmen and over three hundred natives; but, on reaching the shores of the Victoria Niyanza, after a march of seven hundred and twenty miles, accomplished in one hundred and three days, but one hundred and ninety-four men remained-dysentery, famine, heart-disease, desertion, and war, having taken from him one hundred and twenty-five Africans and one European. The following account of the fourth day's march will serve to illustrate the difficulties with which the expedition had to contend while simply pushing forward, while further on we read of new dangers from the attacks of the native forces. Owing to the faithlessness of his guides, Stanley found himself, on the third day out, in the midst of a dense jungle of acacias and euphorbia, througli which they had literally to push their way by scrambling and crawling along the ground, cutting the convolvuli and creepers, thrusting aside stout, thorny bushes, and by various détours taking advantage of every slight opening in the jungle. It was on the evening of this day that the first death occurred. "The fourth day's march," he writes, "lasted nearly the whole day, though we made but fourteen miles, and was threefold more arduous than that of the preceding day. Not a drop of water was discovered during the march, and the weaker people, laboring under their loads, hunger and thirst, lagged behind the vanguard many miles, which caused the rear-guard, under two of the white men, much suffering. As the rear-guard advanced they shouldered the loads of the weaker men, and endeavored to encourage them to resume the march. Some of these men were enabled to reach the camp, where their necessities were relieved by medicine and restoratives. But five men strayed from the path which the passing expedition had made, and were never seen alive again. Scouts sent out to explore the woods found one dead about a mile from our road; the others must have hopelessly wandered on until they also fell down and died." After this follows the weary waiting for relief, and then the fresh start, which brought them to the district of Suna, in Urimi. Here was discovered a people "remarkable for their manly beauty, noble proportions, and nakedness. Neither man nor boy had either cloth or skins to coyer his nakedness; the women bearing children boasted of goat-skins." They proved, in spite of their physical attractions, to be an ungracious and suspicious people, and it required great tact to induce them to trade or in any way further the designs of the expedition. They had no chief, but respected the injunctions of their elders. It was at Suna that Edward Pocock was taken

sick, dying but a few days later-the first European victim to the honorable service in which he was engaged. All honor to his name and memory! After burying Pocock at Chiwyu, and marking his grave by a rude cross cut on a tree at its head, the expedition began its northward journey, until the Leeumbu River was reached. Here the first active contest with the natives began, resulting, after a long fight against fearful odds, in the discomfiture of the enemy and the total destruction by fire of many of the most populous villages. The attacking tribes were led by the dreaded Waturu. Of the geological features of the country now entered the traveler writes as follows: " At Mukondoku the altitude, as indicated by two first-rate aneroids, was 2,800 feet. At Mtiwi, twenty miles north, the altitude was 2,825 feet Diverging west and northwest we ascend the slope of a lengthy mountain-wall, apparently, but which, upon arriving at the summit, we ascertain to be a wide plateau, covered with forest. This plateau has an altitude of 3,800 feet at its eastern extremity, but, as it extends westward, it rises to a height of 4,500 feet. It embraces all Uyanzi, Unyanyembe, Usukuma, Urimi, and Irambo-in short, all that portion of Central Africa lying between the valley of the Rufiji south and the Victoria Niyanza north, and the mean altitude of this broad upland cannot exceed 4,500 feet. From Mizanza to the Niyanza is a distance of nearly three hundred geographical miles, yet at no part of this long journey did the aneroids indicate a higher altitude than 5,100 feet above the sea." Continuing the march, and after crossing numerous fertile plains and the rivers which watered them, the lake is reached, and the actual work of the expedition is projected. This work was to consist in an exploration by water of the Victoria Niyanza, which exploration was to be effected in the boat Livingstone, afterward rechristened the Lady Alice, an illustrated description of which has appeared in the JOURNAL. "I hear of strange tales," says the writer, "about the countries on the shores of this lake, which make me still more eager to start. One man reports a country peopled with dwarfs, another with giants, and another is said to possess a breed of such large dogs that even my mastiffs are said to have been small compared to them. All these may be idle romance, and I lay no stress on any thing reported to me, as I hope to be enabled to see with my own eyes all the wonders of these

unknown countries." In a second letter, now at hand, Mr. Stanley records his first voyage in the Lady Alice, and, by the aid of a map of his own drawing, describes the Victoria Niyanza more fully, and, it may be believed, more correctly, than his predecessors.

IN the death of Charles Wheatstone, the English electrician, physical science loses one of its most distinguished students and advocates. At an early day we shall notice at greater length the character of his services to theoretical and applied science, the following brief summary of which appears in the columns of a contemporary: "He was born at Gloucester, in 1802. In early life he was a manufacturer of musical instruments, and made researches on the science of acoustics. He displayed much mechanical ingenuity in the construction of instruments and apparatus. He published, in 1884, an 'Account of Experiments to measure the Velocity of Electricity and the Duration of Electric Light. In the same year he became Professor of Philosophy in King's College, London. He invented the stereoscope, which he described in his 'Contributions to Physiology of Vision,' published in 1838. He was one of the several persons who, in 1887, claimed the honor of the invention of the electric telegraph. Wheatstone and his partner Cooke obtained, in 1887, patent for apparatus which they invented for sending signals by means of electric currents. They were successful in the practical application of their invention, which soon came into extensive use. Professor Wheatstone afterward invented several improvements, among which is the magneto-alphabetical telegraph. He was Vice-President of the Royal Society, and was a corresponding member of the French Institute, as well as of several of the leading academies of Europe."

DR. A. W. SAXE recently described before the California Academy of Sciences a colossal tree, one of a grove discovered in Santa Clara County. Its circumference, as actually measured six feet from the ground, was but a few inches less than one hundred and fifty feet; as over one hundred feet of the top had fallen, it was impossible to determine the exact height, though this was probably about three hundred feet! This tree, even in that land of vegetable wonders, stands chief over all, although the other trees in the grove are said to be of immense growth.

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A MISHAP.

CHAPTER VII.

"The velvet grass seems carpet meet
For the light fairies' lively feet;
Yon tufted knoll with daisies strown,
Might make proud Oberon a throne;
While hidden in the thicket nigh
Puck should brood o'er his frolic sly;
And where profuse the wood-vetch clings
Round ash and elm in verdant rings,
Its pale and azure penciled flower
Should canopy Titania's bower."

is not possible to imagine a stronger sense of contrast than that of which we conscious on coming to this gay wateringe out of the wild gorge through which ave passed, and after the rough life of h we have had a glimpse. We feel as if ad entered by magic into another world. is a large hotel, with all the appliances ivilization; well-dressed people in every etion on the piazzas and lawns; stir, movet, and all that air of do-nothing gayety h pervades such places.

io summer resort in the country possess

Continued from JOURNAL, No. 344.

es greater advantages than the Warm Springs if these advantages were only made the most of. Even now, despite the constant annoyance which bad management causes, the place is very popular, especially among the people of Tennessee and the Gulf States, who go there in numbers. Nature has certainly done every thing for it. The great hills recede, forming a beautiful basin. There is a green, well-shaded lawn in front of the hotel, at the foot of which the French Broad sweeps, chanting its everlasting refrain, while on the other side bold cliffs and mountains rise. In the rear of the hotel flows Spring Creek, one of the brightest and loveliest of mountain-streams. It runs down a picturesque gorge in crystal rapids and falls, with the laurel-clad cliffs towering so sheer and steep on each side that it is only by springing from rock to rock in the bed of the stream that one is able to explore its wild beauty. The warm springs are large pools that bubble up near the river, and range in heat from 98° to 102° Fahr. They are almost of miraculous virtue for rheumatism and neuralgia, and one sees helpless cripples who have the entire use of all their limbs in the bath, when out of it they cannot move hand or foot. The worst cases of rheumatism are always alleviated by these waters, and many persons are wholly cured.

We cross the river in a ferry-boat-the bridge not having been yet rebuilt-and in doing so are the objects of many stares from a party of equestrians who are waiting on the other side. At a place of this kind newcomers are always certain of being stared at -generally in a very ill-bred manner-but on this occasion there is more than ordinary excuse for the starers. Evidently they are at a loss to imagine where we can possibly have come from. They know that Laurel is "up," for the stage from Asheville has not crossed

since Monday, and this is Thursday. As we approach the bank, we hear them exchanging wonders and conjectures..

"The waters must be down," says one. "Of course the stage will come to-night," remarks another.

"We could assure them to the contrary, if we chose," says Sylvia. "Our boatman told us, you know, that the stage cannot possibly cross until to-morrow-it then."

We drive into the grounds and up to the door of the hotel with the air of people who feel that they have a right to make a sensation.

Our appearance certainly excites a great deal of wonder and interest among the lounging groups on the long piazza.

"From Asheville?" says the astonished clerk who opens the carriage-door. "How is it possible you've crossed Laurel ? The stage hasn't been here in a week."

"People can generally accomplish what they want to do," says Eric. "The stagedrivers are probably not so anxious to cross as we were. Here we are, and we want good rooms immediately."

Thanks to this young gentleman's somewhat arbitrary energy, the good rooms-and they are excellent ones-are obtained. In this respect we are more fortunate than many others. Let people show any capability of being imposed upon, and hotel proprietors are commonly the people to take advantage of the fact.

"It is the most disagreeable feature of this place," says a gentleman a few days later, "that you can obtain nothing without such a great amount of unpleasant bullying.'

Not alone at the Warm Springs, however, does such short-sighted policy prevail. Who that has traveled has not suffered often in this manner, and been wrought to indignation by the deception and imposition which the keepers of many places of resort delight to practise, and injure themselves more grievously than they know by practising them?

The rooms at the Warm Springs are admirably furnished, as far superior in size, comfort, and upholstery, to those of the famous Virginia White Sulphur as a first-class hotel is superior to an ordinary boardinghouse. And the table is as good as can reasonably be desired. Sylvia, it is true, casts a discontented glance over the bill-of-fare, and remarks that she sees no mention of