feet long on the street, has been raised four stories high, and these stories are each so lofty as to dwarf to comparative insignificance the old, low four and five story buildings which flank it on either side. Size and presence if the latter term can be properly applied to buildings, which is the usual designation of a personal quality—are the most prominent characteristics of our new buildings-characteristics in which this structure is very conspicuous. It is built mainly of Philadelphia brick, from which it is variegated by other brickwork of varied colors in conspicuous portions of the edifice, with Nova Scotia sandstone, and with Quincy granite, besides some ornament with tiles. Like most of the newer buildings, this structure presents a wall strengthened by brick projections between the windows, and without the useless and vicious pillars that divide each story, as shown in our degraded Renaissance architecture. The windows of the hospital are numerous and lofty, and bare grouped irregularly by pairs, with intervening walls made in a diaper pattern of various-hued bricks, or there are small and irregular windows to vary the size and effect of the lines of each story. In the centre of the building, and rising directly from the aidewalk, a broad flight of steps conducts to the main entrance, formed of round-arches. Granite, whose polished lettering and mottoes are relieved by a dull and rough background, forms the material on which are inscribed the year in which the building was rected, together with camomile - flowers, aurels, and the entwined wand of Mercury. Besides Quincy granite, red granite and polshed white marble enter into the ornament of this portion of the building, and stained lass will still further enrich a portion of the vindows.

Mr. George B. Post is the architect, and, Ithough the building is not possessed of so auch variety of form as we could wish, it 3 quite free from the factory look that often takes such structures monotonous and reary, and its large size, with the amplitude f all its main features, renders it worthy to ank as one of the finest of our recent buildags.

THOMAS WATERMAN WOOD has just rearned to his studio from his summer home Vermont, and has brought with him, as sual, several fine character-studies, two of hich are in the form of finished pictures. he largest work is entitled "The Old Bachelor." It represents the interior of a arpenter-shop, which also is the home of le bachelor occupant. Seated in a quaint Fooden chair, with his feet resting upon the ead of a cooking-stove, is the figure of an ld man. His chair is tipped, and, with his at poised upon the back of his head, he ppears the picture of ease and contentent; and this feeling is heightened by the leased expression of his face as he glances ver the news items in the daily paper which e holds in his hand.

ment, dreams, despair. The taste for this kind of prose proves that decorative sentiment is creeping everywhere, encouraging one art to cross the limits of another, till poetry, painting, music, all aim merely at awakening vague subjective emotions rather than at presenting definite, well-considered pictures and thoughts. This may seem a long way from china-mania, and no doubt many china-collectors are the most prosaic of men. But the people who love china for its decorative quality, and who make decoration the highest of the arts, and hold that the happy life should be passed in a glorified curiosity-shop, are the real leaders of the furore for porcelain, and make no secret about their views as to art and life on the whole. These views affect literature in the way we have described; and a curious new tone creeps into books out of the bric-a-brac shop and the studio."

On the left, a corner of the work-bench shown, and hanging upon the wall, and cattered around, are the implements of the arpenter's trade. Like all of Mr. Wood's

THE London Daily News, in an article uttering a few criticisms upon the mania for china and the passion for decoration, concludes as follows: "The fact is, that though good por

From Abroad.

OUR PARIS LETTER.

November 23, 1875.

that Mrs. Malaprop calls articles of 'bigotry and virtue,' are very well in their way, they are not the whole of art. Decoration is not the whole of art, nor the highest field of art. To hear some people's conversation one would suppose that brass finger-plates for doors and brass fenders were of more value than all the works of Phidias. It seems to be held that no one can appreciate art who does not hang blue plates aud scraps of rusty tapestry all over his walls; and that Japanese screens, red and yellow, with hideous women engaged in unknown industries, ought to be stuck about a chimney-piece, as a kind of outward and visible sign of inward estheticism. Not to like spider-legged tables and chairs so hard and slippery that they may be called slidingseats is a symptom of hardened Philistinism. "Who will deliver us from the tyranny of Chippendale?' many a stout guest must sigh to himself, as he hardly clings on to the chair of an artistic host. Whoever the late Mr. Chippendale may have been, and his name is a sort of party slogan or battle-cry among the artistic, he was mistaken in supposing that a kind of lace-work in mahogany was the best material for the legs of arm-chairs. Nor was his accomplice, Cheriton, a bit more careful of the comforts of his clients. Now, though we have very little 'style' in this present part of the century, we can at least make comfortable furniture. It is therefore greatly to be desired that the amateurs of Chippendale should also provide themselves with easy-chairs and sofas, whereon their and with minds free from the distraction of friends may sit, and contemplate in comfort, physical pain, the works of the master. We have been as fair as we can to china and to china-mania. But the taste is only one side of a whole theory of art, which tends to exalt sentiment, decorative color, above form and thought. One notices this taste in poetry, which runs more and more to mere music; in painting, which tends to present mere degrees of color and tone, beautifully handled indeed by Mr. Whistler, but not to be imitated by every one in search of a style. There is a kind of cadence and balance even in the prose of some writers which suggests limitless aspirations, vague desires, the sighing of lonely

Théâtre du Vaudeville were united in

their ill-luck last season. The "Chemin de Damas," a comedy on which the management of that unlucky theatre founded hopes of a revival of success, proved as flat and entire a failure as did any of its predecessors whose names are lost in the mists of oblivion. The "Procès Veauradieux" broke the evil spell, so far as the theatre was concerned, and the author of "Les Faux Bonshommes" has regained his lost prestige with the delicate, graceful, and charmingly-written comedy of "Les Scandales d'Hier," a Parisian success, which is destined ere long to become an American one, if I am not very much mistaken. It is just the piece for one of the high-comedy theatres of New York, such as Wallack's, the Fifth Avenue, or the Union Square. The plot is interesting, the characters well drawn and sympathetic, and there is scope for very fine acting on the part of nearly all the leading personages; and, notwithstanding a slight "Frenchiness" of incident, the moral tone of the piece is good, pure, and elevated. In an English dress, the play might be called "The New School for Scandal," or 66 The School for Reporters." It gives the history of one of those social scandals that are bandied from lip to lip and from ear to ear in fashionable drawingrooms, and are even alluded to occasionally in the columns of some gossiping newspaper. Mademoiselle Julie Letellier, the heroine, is a young lady of good birth but of reduced fortune. The young Marquise de Lipari makes her her demoiselle de compagnie and reader, with a salary far more in accordance with her former position than with her present services. So lovely is this impoverished damsel that nearly all the young men who frequent the house of the marquise are smitten by her charms. There is one notable exception, the Baron de Stade, who is madly in love with the marquise herself. Notwithstanding the age and infirmities of the marquis, the lady repulses the baron's protestations of affection. He lingers behind her guests at a soirée in order to take leave of her. Surprised by the entrance of Julie, he makes his escape through the window, unseen by the young girl, who, attracted by the unusual noise, however, goes to the window and lingers there for a few mo

ments looking out into the moonlight. Thus closes the first act.

In the second, Julie has become the Comtesse de Fresnoy, and, with her husband, is on a visit to the grandmother of the latter, the Duchesse de Blançay, a noble dowager of the Faubourg St.-Germain, who, at first scandalized by the misalliance of her grandson, has become perfectly fascinated by the grace and beauty and sweetness of the bride. But a dark cloud arises on the horizon that seems so radiant. The Vicomtesse de Meillan, who was formerly beloved by the Comte de Fresnoy, Vows vengeance on her young and gentle rival. The story of the Baron de Stade and his nocturnal escapade becomes known to her. She whispers the story about among her acquaintances, and Julie, on going to a grand ball, is insulted and avoided by all the ladies present. The whole imbroglio is cleared up by the return of the Baron de Stade, who confesses his misdeeds, and offers his hand to the now widowed Marquise de Lipari. This brief and necessarily imperfect sketch can give but a faint idea of the charm and interest of the whole piece. The characters of the noble, trusting husband, of the proud, testy, warmhearted, impetuous old duchess, and of the gentle, wronged heroine herself, are admirably delineated. Then there is the jealous vicomtesse, the evil genius of the piece, and a young scapegrace of a duke, who is a very bewitching young fellow. The vicomtesse figures in two strong scenes-one in the first act, where she tries to lure back the lost affections of De Fresnoy, and breaks down in jealous agony; and that in the second act, where she worms the secret of the apparent guilt of Julie from an unsuspecting gentleman who was an eye-witness to the escape of De Stade, and who saw Julie lingering on the balcony. The acting was worthy of the play. Blanche Pierson, who can be angel or demi-devil, fashionable dame or virtuous peasant, at will on the boards, played the part of the heroine with the tender sweetness and candid charm that form one phase of her many-sided talent. Mademoiselle Massin was superb in beauty and in toilet as the vicomtesse. Since Pierre Berton left the Comédie Française, he has got his voice out of his nose, and his shoulders from under his ears, and he no longer looks like a scared and piteous novice, but like a handsome and gallant gentleman and an accomplished artist. He played the part of the trustful, loving, indignant husband superbly. Madame Alexis as the aged duchess, and Dieudonné as the young duke, were delightful. En somme, a great and a deserved success for a play admirable as a work of art, and for its healthful tone and pure atmosphere as well.

Rossi continues to draw crowded houses to the Théâtre Italien with "Kean," so he will probably continue to play it for some time to come. He was present at the rentrée of Faure at the Grand Opéra the other night. The great barytone appeared as Hamlet, and, at the end of the third act, Rossi went to Faure's dressing-room to congratulate him Meeting Ambroise Thomas there, he remarked: "6 Ah, M. Thomas, I heard another opera of yours the other night, wherewith I was charmedthe 'Caid!'" Now, Thomas happens to be mortally ashamed of the "Caid," which is a very jolly comic opera, wellnigh, by its gayety and extravagance, an opéra-bouffe; so he did not appreciate the compliment of the great tragedian so highly as he might have done. Rossi, by-the-way, is extravagantly fond of opéra-bouffe, and spends the evenings when he does not act in vibrating between the Variétés,

the Renaissance, and the Bouffes Parisiens. He is tremendously fêted and petted here, especially in high official quarters. The other day the Minister of Fine Arts sent him a present of a superb Sèvres vase, accompanying the gift with a letter overflowing with compliments. He was further complimented by being invited to appear at the formal reopening of the Odéon, which took place last week. In fact, the management tried to engage him to appear as Cardinal Mazarin in a revival of "The Youth of Louis XIV.," " but Rossi declined, on the ground that the part was unsuited to him. As Mazarin, by the author's directions, has to talk with an Italian accent all through the piece, the nationality of the tragedian would have been no hinderance to his success. The part is an ungrateful one, however, and the play itself is stupid, so it is not surprising that he declined the flattering offer of the director.

Meissonier's splendid new house, near the Parc Monceau, will not be ready for occupation this winter, as was generally supposed, so the celebrated artist must perforce remain in his charming country-home at Poissy till next season. The new domicile includes two studios, both of proportions suited to the vast conceptions of Horace Vernet rather than to the gem-like productions of their owner. Meissonier is still hard at work at the large battle-piece which has absorbed his thoughts and his time so long. Owing to some misunderstanding between Sir Richard Wallace (who had purchased the picture) and himself, the contract between them is canceled, and this important work, I am happy to state, is destined for New York, it having been bought by Mr. A. T. Stewart. Well might the Figaro exclaim, as it did the other day, "In a few years, if we wish to obtain the works of any of the great masters of modern French art, we shall be forced to cross the Atlantic, and to repurchase them in New York for their weight in gold."

tive Exhibition of chosen works of art to be held every five years. It also passed another law diminishing the number of works to be exhibited by any one artist at the Salon from three, as heretofore, to two only, a good change, as it will give more chances of admission to the rising talent of the day. So, after all the talk and the scarce, we retain our annual Salon, with some slight modifications. Considering that the exhibition never costs the government any thing, the receipts being always largely in excess of the expenditure, the object of the proposed measure becomes less and less apparent. Some years ago the experiment of holding a biennial exhibition only was tried, but with such ill-results that the present regulations were speedily adopted.

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The books of the week are not particularly important, the leading publishers being absorbed in preparations for the coming holidays. A gigantic catalogue of "Livres pour Etrennes" lies before me as I write. It is a lordly volume of two hundred and forty pages, printed on toned paper, and really valuable from the number and beauty of the specimen woodcuts that it contains. There are all kinds of books prepared for the coming festive season-scientific, literary, poetic, historical, juvenile, etc., something to suit every taste and every purse as well. Michel Lévy advertises a work called "Le Chevalier Noir," with twenty full-page illustrations by Gustave Doré, & book that I should think might be worth translating and reproducing on account of the illustrations. But it is the list of M. Auguste Fontaine, the celebrated dealer in fine secondhand books, that brings the water to the mouth of the ardent book-lover: such trifles as Doré's Bible, gorgeously bound, impres sions on Chinese paper, at four hundred dollars; a set of those superb illustrated works, with plates in gold and colors, known as "Les Arts Somptuaires," "Le Moyen Age et la Renaissanse," and "Les Arts Industriels," HA all fine early copies, and all bound to match in full scarlet morocco, for four hundred dollars; ad a fine edition of Molière, with extra engravings, ind notes, etc., inserted, for two hundred and for-bo ty dollars; a copy of the works of Rousseau, in twenty-two volumes, with inserted portraits, illustrations, etc., for six hundred and forty dollars; and other bewitching announce ments too numerous to mention. "O for the purse of Fortunatus!" one is forced to sighei on perusing these too tempting pages. Amonge the novelties of the week may be cited "Ameti History of Contemporary Literature in Spain, be by M. Gustave Hubbard, published by the Bibliothèque Charpentier; "Dalles et Planches" ("The Pulpit and the Boards "), a correspondence between a priest and an actor, issued by Paul Dupont; and a new novel called "The Adventures of an Actor," by Marc Fournier, from the press of E. Lachaud & Co.

The art world of Paris was, for several day's last week, in a state of wild fermentation, a terrible blow to its prosperity having been threatened from official quarters. The menaced disaster was no other than a suppression of the annual exhibition of the Salon, and a substitution of a triennial exhibition instead. This cheerful measure, proposed by one M. Henriquet Dupont, an engraver of some eminence, actually received the assenting votes of a majority of the Sub-committee on Fine Arts. One can hardly see what good would have been effected by the change. M. Dupont talked of "elevating the standard of art," but how the standard of art would have been exalted by depriving the young and rising artists of France of their one annual chance of displaying their works, he did not exactly explain. Moreover, the works of the great artists of France, the celebrities that have " The Gymnase has brought out "Fereol," rived," to use an expressive French idiom, are the new comedy by Sardou, with an admi-ph mainly purchased by foreigners, and are dis- rable cast, and much display of toilets on the persed to Russia, to the United States, and part of the actresses that figure therein. The Heaven knows where. At present, it is cus- piece has proved a success, and will probably tomary for the painter, after disposing of his enjoy a long run. The leading idea, the inei picture, to request permission to retain it for dent of a young man becoming a witness of exhibition at the next Salon. Under the pres- crime from the windows of a married lady at ent regulations, the purchaser almost invari- night, and to save her reputation compelled to ably consents, as the delay in receiving the keep silence, and to behold an innocent per picture at most only amounts to a few months, son charged with the deed, is not particularly but, with a triennial Salon only, the pictures novel. But the plot is well worked out, and of two years, at least, would never be seen in though the first act drags somewhat heavily in Paris at all. Fortunately for the interests of the last two are full of movement and of inart, the general Fine Arts Council had more terest. Notwithstanding the whole piece 0 sense than the subordinate organization. It taken up with the fortunes of the accused and not only rejected the proposition of M. Du- the vicissitudes of his trial, we are never per pont, but passed a law instituting a Retrospec-mitted to behold either the one or the other.

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the physiological questions, which, as being in the nature of an advance, are left to be discussed after that mental development has been attained which will render such discussion possible and profitable. It will be seen that the mind is considered as amenable to laws kindred to those which relate to physical growth. Thus the special service is preceded by a general development, and in the present instance it is proposed to effect this development by the aid of one branch of sciencethat of botany. "The way a child gets its early knowledge is the way all knowledge is obtained; when it discovers the likeness between sugar, cake, and certain fruits-that is, when it integrates them in thought as sweet-it is making just such an induction as Newton made in discovering the law of gravitation." It is not improbable that this conclusion may not be accepted by all, since it may appear to leave little room for the deductive processes; be that as it may, the truth of the method in its relation to early development will not be denied. Passing on to that point where the author makes direct application of the principles set forth above, we read that "the glaring deficiency of our popular systems of instruction is, that words are not subordinated to their real purposes, but are permitted to usurp that supreme attention which should be given to the formation of ideas by the study of things. It is at this point that true mental growth is checked, and the minds of children are switched off from the main line of natural

development into a course of artificial acquisition, in which the semblance of knowledge takes the place of the reality of knowledge.

...

The existing systems of instruction are therefore deficient, by making no adequate provision for cultivating the growth of ideas by the exercise of the observing powers of children. Observation, the capacity of recognizing distinctions, and of being mentally alive to the objects and actions around us, is only to be acquired by practice, and therefore requires to become a regular and habitual mental exercise, and to have a fundamental place in education." It is at this point that the claims of botany are advanced with justice and confidence, not as a special science but as a means of mental discipline, and it is when viewed in this light that the importance of this branch of study becomes the more evident.

fairly be expected. But the professor, from his observations among the passengers, was induced to believe that those who were betting on a change were not fortified by meteorological tables or informed as to their nature and value, but cherished the common fallacy "that past events of one kind are more likely to be followed by events of a different kind than by events of the same kind." Although this idea may justly be regarded as a fallacy, yet we are bold enough to believe that many even of our readers have been induced to act on it. For instance, in "casting lots" after the modern method-that is, by "tossing a cent"-how many are they who, having had the coin come up head for six consecutive times, would not be willing to give odds in favor of its coming up tail on the seventh toss! And yet, by what law of rhyme or reason could such a conclusion be justified? In his letter Professor Proctor cites a singular instance where this faith in chances had acted as a governing motive in deciding by which steamer a traveler should cross the ocean. It is generally recognized by tourists that, of all the steamers which cross the Atlantic, those belonging to the Cunard line are the safest. That this opinion is a just one appears from the fact that this line has "never lost a passenger," a result due, without question, to the superior discipline which exists on these ships, and the strength and seaworthiness of the vessels themselves. This view of the case, however, does not seem to have weight with all, as illustrated by the following incident: A particularly "cute" American had taken a passage to Europe by a steamer on the Inman or White Star line, and was asked why he did not go by a Cunarder. "Guess it ain't safe," said he. "Not safe?" replied his friend. "Don't you know that the Cunard Company boast that they have never lost a passenger yet?" "Well, that's just it," replied this modern fatalist. " Every company must lose a certain number of passengers, and some time or other is bound to make up its number." When recorded in black and white it is possible that few will fail to see the fallacy of this reasoning; and yet, we venture to predict that, should this line lose two steamers in quick succession, there would be found many to say, "6 Well, their turn has come at last." Nor is it at all improbable that the passenger-list would be for a time susceptibly reduced, owing to the popular faith in this popular fallacy.

THE Scotch Herring-Fishery Board have taken measures toward assisting the fishermen in their work by the aid of meteorological observations. Through the liberality of the Marquis of Tweeddale, twenty of the fishing-stations were supplied with deep-sea ther

...

to other inquisitive voyagers. The subject under review is introduced by the statement that, "during long sea-voyages, some of the common fallacies about chances and averages are strikingly illustrated. If there have been," says the writer, "several days of rough weather and unfavorable winds, many seem to think that the chances of calm weather or favorable winds are greater for the following few days than they ordinarily would be." In this special instance it is admitted that, owing to the operation of well-known laws, a long continuance of winds from any given direction may serve to restore a needed equilibrium, and hence, after a certain time, a change may

to ascertain the temperature of the sea at the time fishing was going on. These records, together with those of the daily catches," were placed in the hands of Mr. Buchan, the secretary of the Meteorological Society, who compared and analyzed them. The result of these comparisons, as indicated in a recent report, proved that, during the periods when good or heavy catches were taken, the barometer was in most cases high and steady, the winds light and moderate, and electrical phenomena wanting; and, on the other hand, when catches were low, the observations indicated a low barometer, strong winds, unsettled weather, and thunder and lightning. Though it would not be safe to extend these rules so as to govern fishermen who seek fish of other species, yet enough has been proved by these results to justify similar experiments on our

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As the result of a long-continued course of reath experiment and observation, Helmholtz has obtained the following results regarding the relative amounts of energy expended by the human body in internal and external work: "About five times as much energy is used in the internal work of the body as is expended 3r in ordinary productive work. In the case of severe work, the proportion of internal work n to productive work is still greater. Suppos ing the work performed by a man to consiste of walking, the most economical rate, both as i regards the amount of food required to sustaine it, and the amount of potential energy ex-e pended on the body itself, is about three miles an hour. Both above and below that t speed there is a decrease in the amount of ac tive work as compared with the non-prodnetive energy. A man walking fifteen or sixteen di miles a day, or doing an equivalent amount i of work in any other form, would require 23 ounces of food, composed of albuminates 4.6 ounces, fat 3 ounces, starch 14.3 ounces, and salts 1.1 ounce. This would yield a poten tial energy of 4,480 foot-tons, and 300 foot-tons for productive work. A mere subsistence diet t for a man at rest would be 15 ounces, but with K this amount a man would lose weight. About Sta 7,000 foot-tons a day of potential energy is the greatest amount which is possible as a sa permanency. This would yield 600 foot-tons of th productive work. These calculations apply only to men in health."

THAT certain of the vital processes are aided or checked by the presence or absence of light is a fact already demonstrated. It has remained, however, for a recent observer, M. von Platen, to prove that light, through exoitation of the retina alone, causes an active increase in the exchange of material in the tissues.

The method by which these facts were obtained is as ingenious as the results are novel and interesting. A certain number of rabbits were inclosed in a respiration appe ratus or box, so contrived that both the oxygen consumed and the carbonic acid given off could be accurately measured. Before the eyes of each rabbit small wooden rings of spectacles were fastened, the glasses of these being so adjusted that all light could be ex cluded from the eyes. Having thus arranged the preliminaries, the consumption of oxyg during the time when light was admitted a excluded from the retina was carefully noted it being thus determined that this consump tion in light and in darkness was in the rel tion of 116 to 100, and the separation of car bonic acid under the same conditions as 11 to 100. This difference, let it be understood was the result, not of a varying condition of light and darkness in the surrounding atmos phere, but merely of the lighting up or darker ing of the retina. Should it be found that the same law pertains to men as to rabbits, the physiological conditions of the blind must b of a special and peculiar character.

THE success attending the use of nickel a plating material has prompted experimen in the use of other metals for a like purp The latest of these is that reported by Be trand, who has succeeded in producing g Ivanic deposit of bismuth on the surface

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other metals. The process may be described as follows: From twenty-five, to thirty-five grains of the double chloride of bismuth and ammonia are dissolved in about one quart of water, and this solution is used cold, by the usual methods, a single Bunsen pile being employed. On coming out of the bath, the coated surface is covered with a dark-looking slime, beneath which the metallic lustre of the bismuth is visible. This latter adheres very closely, and takes a fine polish, the color being intermediate between antimony and silver.

By simply altering the figures on the face of an ordinary stop-watch, this instrument has been made to render service as a distancemeasurer. The purpose is to place in the hands of the army-officer a convenient instrument, by which the distance of an enemy's battery may be determined. When awaiting the flash of the enemy's gun, the officer stands, watch in hand, with the pointer marking zero. The instant the flash is seen, the pointer is released, to be stopped when the sound of the report is heard. By this means, the distance is indicated. Notwithstanding the accuracy of the instrument, it is evident that the season of the year, the direction of the wind, and the ondition of the atmosphere, are important actors, and, to aid the observer in this, sevLiral scales are used.

In the November number of the Geographcal Magazine Captain Burton, in reviewing Ir. Stanley's report of his exploration of the Albert N'yauza, commends the energy and eal displayed by this American explorer, nd, though questioning the accuracy of cerain observations, credits him for the actual pographical results obtained in defining the mits of the lake and its feeders.

Ir has been discovered that a mixture of Borax, sulphate of soda, and uraoic acid, will nder cloth uninflammable, at the same time protecting it as to insure it against any loss color or change in texture by heat.

Miscellanea.

AN article in Blackwood, entitled “Weath

er," contains many striking and elotent passages. 'Climate and weather are mpared as follows:

Climate is geographically fixed, while weathis atmospherically variable; climate is a lculated quantity, while weather is an unown one. All sorts of rules are applicable climate, but noue are applicable to weather. imate is monarchy, weather is anarchy. Cliite is a constitutional government, whose ganization we see and understand; latitude d altitude are its king and queen; dryness d dampness are its two houses of parliant; animal and vegetable products are its pjects; and the isothermal lines are its wspapers; but weather is a red-hot, radical ublic, all excitements and uncertainties, a spiser of old rules, a hater of proprieties and ler. Climate is a great, stately sovereign, ose will determines the whole character of lives and habits of his retainers, but whose e is regular, and is therefore so little felt it it seems like liberty; but weather is a pricious, cruel tyrant, who changes his dees each day, and who forces us, by his r-varying whims, to remember that we are ves. Climate is local; weather is univer

We are indifferent to climate because we

are accustomed to it, but we are dependent on weather because we never know what form it will take to-morrow. Climate is the rule; weather is the exception. Climate is dignity; weather is impudence.

The causes of changes in weather are indicated:

If all the air reposed exclusively on water or on earth alone, there would be no weather; of

course, there would be climates, but they prob

ably would be very nearly free from accidents. or changes, for the reason that no sufficient agent would be at work to upset their regularity, as weather does. It is the division of the earth into sea and land, it is the joint though separate action on the atmosphere of these two bases, which create weather; it is the counter-working of those two pavements on the air above them which provokes its good or bad behavior; it is the contrast and the clashing between evaporation and precipitation, between the uplifting and the down-pouring of the waters, according to the variety of topographic influences, which bring about the wild uncertainties of weather and destroy the peaceful unities of climate. It is, however, not solely because the surface of the earth is a mixture of wet and dry that these incongruities arise; the varied nature and the diversified disposition of the materials of which the land part of that surface is composed, must also be taken into account; for, as through their agency the distribution of heat on land is rendered most uneven, the atmosphere in contact with that land is irregularly heated also, its faculty of absorbing vapor increases or diminishes with its temperature, and, in this way, a second motive cause of weather is produced.

At the outset of the study of the clouds an insoluble enigma is encountered:

Clouds, as has just been said, are made of water, and water is eight hundred and sixteen times heavier than air; how, then, do clouds manage to get lifted up into the air, and to stop there comfortably, apparently without an effort, and to travel thousands of miles there, at all sorts of paces, just as if it were quite natural and proper that they should be there? Nobody can tell us. Now, really it is humiliating that, at the very outset of our attempt to make the acquaintance of weather, we should encounter an obstacle of this sort, which bars the door to all possibility of real intimacy. Of course, wise people have tried to scramble over it; of course, there have been plenty of suggestions of the peculiar reasons which enable clouds to defy what are supposed to be the laws of Nature, to despise attraction, and to mock at gravitation: but not one of the explanations which have been invented is eonsidered to be sufficient; the clouds go on swimming incomprehensibly above us, in utter disdain of a number of excellent reasons why they should do nothing of the kind. If they behaved like every thing else in Nature, they would never go up at all; but then, in that case, they would not be clouds. Some learned gentlemen have asserted that clouds are supported by rising currents of hot air, which push them up from below, apparently just as children blow up soap-bubbles and keep them floating as long as their breath lasts; others have considered that electricity, in some unknown fashion, contrives to hold them in their places; others, again, have urged that the water-globules of which they are formed contain "obscure internal heat," which by expansion makes them lighter than the surrounding air, converts each of them in

that way into a Montgolfier balloon, and so enables them to remain suspended. We ignorant people are of course quite ready to believe any one of these interpretations, or any other, provided only the sages will tell us which one to adopt; but, so long as they hold silence on the point, all we can do is to stare inquisitively at the clouds and say within ourselves, "How on earth, now, do you manage it?"

Rain is the first-born child of the clouds;

fog is the second, and snow the third :

Rain is incontestably possessed of some most remarkable capacities; its talents are brilliant; its influence is enormous; but the value and the merit of its qualities are lamentably diminished by the capriciousness, the willfulness, and the disorder, with which it employs them. Of course, it has the excuse of having been abominally brought up, like all its kindred, and of never having had the advantage of good examples at home, for neither weather, nor vapor, nor clouds, set their younger relatives a pattern of steadiness, of dignity, or of regularity of conduct. But, whoever may be to blame, the fact persists that the merits and defects of rain are so intermingled that it is sometimes very difficult to distinguish them from each other. Openhanded generosity and niggardly avarice, the gentlest and tenderest caresses and the fiercest blasts of temper, the most daring and impetuous public speaking, and the driest and most painful silence, are all mixed up together in this richly-endowed but wildly-wayward Na

ture.

Fog is described as follows:

Rain is a spendthrift who casts about his substance in every direction; fog is a miser who holds together all he has. Rain is invariably in motion; fog is always indolent and lazy. Rain is active, violent, and noisy; fog is stagnant, sulky, and silent. Fog is manifestly jealous of his brother-gets into his way as much as possible, and seems to try fallaciously to prove that, as their common mother, cloud, can descend to earth entire in the shape of her second son, it is altogether needless for her to tumble down there in pieces under the name of the elder one. Unfortunately, however, for the pretensions of fog, it is of no kind of use to us, while its liquid relative is indispensable. It seems, indeed, to know this, for it likes particularly to stop in inaccessible places, on mountain-tops, or out at sea, where scarcely any one can look at it, as if it were ashamed of its condition. It is true that it does visit us occasionally on dry land, but in a nasty, hesitating sort of way, and it rarely presumes to show itself among us in broad daylight. Most of the other members of the family of weather-with all their faults -have some redeeming qualities; but fog is hopelessly objectionable: it is ugly, useless, stupid, and dirty.

Of snow, the third offspring, the writer is eloquent and poetic :

The third child is a daughter. She floats in the winter air in the white frock that was given to her at her birth, and, though she is now as old as the north wind, she has never changed her robe. Cold, still, spotless, and majestic, she seems altogether out of place amid her coarse relations: they are a disorderly populace; she is a stately queen. Silent, frigid, and so white that her very name means purity, she stands alone-the Pallas Athene of weather. Her movements are soundless; she hushes all around her; she effaces every