.

In the King's Presence Chamber, which we enter immediately from the Guard Room, hang full-length portraits of the beauties of the Court of King William and Queen Mary. They are all painted by Kneller, and are none of them remarkable, except as good specimens of that master's style, save one, that of a Duchess of St. Albans. We know not her history, but she is represented as very young, with a figure petite and delicate, a sweet countenance, but a mournful thoughtfulness over-spreading it, like a shadow foretelling a premature death. We are likely enough to be wrong in our supposition, but such is the impression produced upon our minds. The picture is well, and, what is rare with the works of the master, chastely painted. A portrait by Titian, and another by Giorgione, are worth attention, though not to be ranked with the best of these artists performances. Giorgione's "portrait," as it is termed in the catalogue, represents a saint clothed in armour; there is a glory round the head. The views of ruins over the doors in this and the next apartment, are by Rousseau, a French artist, protected and patronised by William III., and are not ill painted. We must not leave this room without bestowing a glance on the state canopy, the same beneath which William III. was accustomed to give audience.

In the next chamber we remark an admirable work of Corregio's, a most characteristic portrait of the sculptor Baccio Bandinelli; he sought to rival Michel Angelo Buonarotti, but did not come within many degrees of that great artist. He was, notwithstanding, a good architect, and possessed considerable merit as a sculptor, but his disposition was mean and envious. A portrait of Alexander de Medici, by Titian, is very excellent; and our attention is attracted by a very fine duplicate of Vandyke's celebrated portrait of Charles I. on horseback. In the audiencechamber, a portrait of Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, painted by Titian, deserves minute and particular attention. It interests us to behold so characteristic a portrait of this remarkable man, and as a picture it is every way admirable.

In the King's drawing-room we are involuntarily attracted by a painting of Joseph and Potiphar's wife, by Gentileschi. It has many faults as a painting, but is singularly striking. The Angels appearing to the Shepherds, by N. Poussin, must on no account be passed over. It is an excellent specimen of that great master, though not in his usual style.

In King William's bed-room we admire the celebrated beauties of the court of Charles II., amongst which are many of the best specimens of Lely's painting. The ceiling is by Verrio, and beautifully painted.

Passing through the King's dressing-room and writing-closet, and Queen Mary's closet, we reach her Majesty's gallery, rich in Holbeins, all worthy of attention. We would particularly point out the picture of his father and mother, in which warm filial feelings seem to have put vigour into the painter's pencil, and softened the usual harshness of his style. There are several other excellent pictures here. The Queen's bed-room contains the state-bed of Queen Anne, and several paintings; one, a Venus and Cupid, is curious from having been sketched by Michel Angelo. We pass into the Queen's drawing-room, filled with paintings by West, many being portraits of the family of George III.; thence through the Queen's audience-chamber, which does not contain much to interest us, we reach the public dining-room, in which are models of the new Buckingham Palace, and other buildings; but a portrait of Duns Scotus, by Caravaggio, will not permit us to attend to anything else. It is a wonderfully powerful performance. The Queen's private chapel is so dark, that it

hasten on through three or four more comparatively small apart. ments, until we reach the gallery containing the glorious works of Raphael, the incomparable Cartoons. There hang those seven noble works and the first glance shows you how magnificent they are. How grand in conception; how admirable in drawing, and how beautiful they have been in colouring! That glory has, alas! faded in some degree, but enough is left for imagination to supply the lost harmonious tints. You look down on the engravings, which are placed below on easels; you see Holloway's and Burnet's copies; how exact, yet how unlike. In opposite styles of art, yet both excellent, they give you no idea of the cartoons. How then can words do it? We must come again and spend a day in this room. Now let us gaze in silence-We must at last depart; this door leads us to the Queen's staircase; it is very fine, very-but we cannot look at it.

And here we find ourselves once more in the Fountain-court, Let us glance at the Clock Court and Western Quadrangle, encircled by the apartments of those fortunate individuals who dwell in this princely palace; take a look into the Conservatory, and admire the gigantic vine, the prince of all its kind. It is above 110 feet long; at three feet from the ground, the stem is twentyseven inches in circumference; it is of the kind known as the Black Hamburgh, and in some seasons has produced 2,500 bunches of grapes,—at least so says our “Guide.” And now let us wander among these pleasant walks, refreshing our eyes with the cool green. Shall we venture into the "Maze?" There is a plan of it on the back page of the Guide, but even with that aid we should, we fear, be puzzled to get either in or out, But see, the sun declines. Let us stroll to the river-side, and then take boat for Richmond, and thence home by coach or steam-boat; but, if you like it better, there are coaches direct into London. No, we will take the water, and, as we glide along, meditate on the beauties of Hampton Court.-Good night; may your slumbers be light, and your dreams happy.

THE CHEGOE.

THE chegoe looks exactly like a very small flea, and a stranger would take it for one. However, in about four-and-twenty hours, he would have several broad hints that he had made a mistake in his ideas of the animal. It attacks different parts of the body, but chiefly the feet, betwixt the toe-nails and the flesh. There it day or two, after examining the part, you perceive a place about buries itself, and at first causes an itching not unpleasant. In a the size of a pea, somewhat discoloured, rather of a blue appearance. Sometimes it happens that the itching is so trivial, you are not aware that the miner is at work. Time, they say, makes great discoveries. The discoloured part turns out to be the nest of the chegoe, containing hundreds of eggs, which if allowed to hatch there, the young ones will soon begin to form other nests, and in time form a spreading ulcer. As soon as you perceive that you have got the chegoe in your flesh, you must take a needle or a sharp-pointed knife, and take it out. If the nest be formed, great care must be taken not to break it; otherwise some of the eggs remain in the flesh, and then you will soon be annoyed with more turpentine into the hole; that will most effectually destroy any chegoes. After removing the nest, it is well to drop spirit of chegoe that may be lurking there. Sometimes I have taken four nests out of my feet in the course of the day. examine my feet, and see that they were clear of chegoes. Now Every evening, before sundown, it was a part of my toilette to and then a nest would escape the scrutiny, and then I had to smart for it a day or two after. A chegoe once lit upon the back of my hand: wishful to see how he worked, I allowed him to take possession. He immediately set to work, head foremost, and in about let him feel the point of my penknife, and exterminated him. half an hour he had completely buried himself in the skin. I then

Waterton's Wanderings.

AN ENTHUSIAST'S VIEW OF CLASSICAL
LITERATURE.

AMONGST the various objects to which the human mind is directed, there are not very many that can outshine a general acquaintance with the literature of antiquity. It emanated from some of the noblest fountains of human knowledge and human greatness; it comprises works which, as objects of study, may challenge competition with those produced through the long ages that have succeeded. While man is man, there must be a charm in those great and glorious productions, which it would be a disgrace not to feel,-which it would be yet more disgraceful to attempt to depreciate. The Homerian poems have a freshness of human genius, which yet resounds in our ears like the multitudinous swell and roar of the billows of a distant foaming ocean; which appeal to men's hearts by comparisons of human feeling and character, which intertwine with these the most splendid passions of the imagination. While there is a power to appreciate whatever is beautiful in imagination, represented in all its powers and its abilities to teach pathetic feelings most connected with our sympathies; while there is anything else that responds to the ablest strains of oratory, and whatever is most mighty in the application of a powerful mind to the business of a community, in which the accumulation of facts and arguments to demonstration is blended with those spirit-stirring scenes of peril and danger in the battle-field, so fresh and so vigorous within them; while there is a pleasure in sitting at the feet of garrulous age, hearing recounted every tale of distant lands and ages, of wild adventure;-so long will the effusions of the oldest of poets, historians, and orators, excite enthusiasm,—so long will they be prized as among the most instructive treasures to force and excite the fancy, animate the aspirations of the soul, or satisfy the contemplations of the understanding.

MR. CORSTEN'S HYACINTH SHOW. RAMBLING lately along the Uxbridge road, in search of an old thatched public-house, which I remembered stood on Shepherd's-Bush Green, my attention was caught by the name of Hyacinth Villa. The name struck me. "Hyacinth Villa," said I-"I have already seen Cato Cottage, Homer Villa, and Addison Road, but this name belongs to another genus:" and so saying, I examined a ticket which was affixed to the gate, and which informed the reader that a show of hyacinths was within, admission to which might be obtained by paying the sum of five shillings. How different was all this to the image my fancy had pictured when I set out to examine this favoured haunt of boyhood! How vividly was the whole scene, as it had appeared in my boyish days, impressed on my imagination !-and how great was the change. I almost fancied that I had mistaken the place; but there was the village green, with the geese stalking across it, as in former times; and there was the old public-house, with its high-hipped roof; but the thatch was gone, and its place was supplied by blue slates; and, instead of an old willow which had stood beside it, was Hyacinth Villa, the residence of a Dutch seedsman, who exhibited his hyacinths to the curious at five shillings each.

It was a deathblow to romance; I could not get up my feelings again; and so, that I might not lose my walk, I paid my five shillings, and was ushered into the presence of Mr. Corsten's hyacinths. Here romance of a different kind was excited. Imagine a tent nearly two hundred feet long, and about thirty wide, with a walk covered with matting in the centre, and above three thousand hyacinths, of the most beautiful forms and brilliant colours, arranged in two beds, each 150 feet long, on each side. It was a temple of Flora, worthy of the presence of the goddess herself. At first my eyes were dazzled with the splendour of the colours, and I was unable to examine the individual flowers; but when I had calmed down sufficiently to examine them, I was astonished to find of what variety the flower of the hyacinth was susceptible. I now began to consider in what the perfections of a hyacinth consisted, and to examine the splendid flowers before me, according to my imaginary standard of perfection; and then to try to recollect all I had heard or read of the flower.

I first began to think of the nature and use of a bulb. We all now that the main root of the hyacinth is a bulb, which is taken up when the plant has done flowering, and planted again in autumn, to produce its beautiful flowers the following spring. We know this; and, if we have grown these roots in hyacinth

glasses, we also know that the bulb is not their only root, but that, when they begin to grow, they send down others, long, white, and succulent, at the extremities of which are the spongioles, or mouths, by which the plant takes its food. The bulb then cannot exercise the usual functions of a root,-viz. that of supplying the plant with food; and the question is, what its use is? Linnæus considered bulbs as winter store-houses, intended to preserve the germ of the future flower while vegetation is at rest, and to afford it its first nourishment. It is, indeed, like the egg destined to feed the incipient chicken, full of albuminous matter, sufficient to nourish the flower itself; for it is well known that, if all the fibrous roots are cut off, the bulb itself, if supplied with sufficient heat and moisture, will expand the flower, though it exhausts itself in so doing. The bulb which has produced a flower solely from itself, and without deriving any nourishment from the ground, does not appear diminished in size outwardly; but it will be found to have lost its weight, and, when examined, the upper part will be found to consist only of empty coats. The real roots of the hyacinth do not spread horizontally, like most other fibrous roots, but go straight down, penetrating into the ground to a great depth. For this reason, the Dutch prepare a deep bed of light soil for the roots to go through, with a rich layer of manure, to afford food to be sucked up by the spongioles. Mr. Corsten follows the example of his countrymen, and has had a trench, six feet deep, dug out; and, after putting a deep layer of cow-dung at the bottom, has filled it with sandy peat. In this bed his hyacinths have acquired an extraordinary luxuriance of growth. The kind he calls the Queen has a spike of dark purple flowers, a foot long; while that called the Duchess of Kent is of the most brilliant scarlet, or rather carmine. Others are yellow, buff, brick red, and a kind called the Robinson is of a most beautiful metallic blue; another called Tubiflora, with very large flowers, is of a delicate French white. In short, the whole forms one of the most splendid sights of the season, and it is well worthy of being visited by every admirer of beautiful flowers.

THE FETCH.

THE mother died when the child was born,
And left me her baby to keep;

I rocked its cradle the night and morn,
Or, silent, hung o'er it to weep.

"Twas a sickly child through its infancy,
Its cheeks were so ashy pale;
Till it broke from my arms to walk in glee,
Out in the sharp fresh gale.

And then my little girl grew strong,

And laughed the hours away;

Or sung me the merry lark's mounting song, Which he taught her at break of day.

When she wreathed her hair in thicket bowers, With the hedge-rose and hare-bell, blue;

I called her my May, in her crown of flowers, And her smile so soft and new.

And the rose, I thought, never shamed her cheek,
But rosy and rosier made it;

And her eye of blue did more brightly break
Through the bluebell that strove to shade it.

One evening I left her asleep in her smiles,
And walked through the mountains, lonely;
I was far from my darling, ah! many long miles,
And I thought of her, and her only,

She darkened my path like a troubled dream, In that solitude far and drear;

I spoke to my child! but she did not seem To hearken with human ear,

She only looked with a dead, dead eye,

And a wan, wan cheek of sorrow ;

I knew her "fetch!" she was called to die,
And she died upon the morrow.

From Tales by the O'Hara Family.

PRACTICES OF HABITUAL DEPREDATORS.

In the Report of the Commissioners for inquiring into the best means of establishing a Constabulary Force throughout England and Wales, there is a variety of particulars respecting the practices of habitual depredators, which it may be useful to be made acquainted with. The following are a few specimens, which may serve as a sort of appendix to the article in our previous Number. We lay them before our readers, with the double view of assisting them to guard against these practices, and of stimulating them to aid in schemes for the prevention rather than the punishment of crime.

In the Appendix to the Report there is a paper, communicated by Mr. Chesterton, the governor of Coldbath-fields' Prison, containing a general statement of the career of thieves and their practices. It was drawn up by an intelligent prisoner, from the narratives of other prisoners.

Most thieves commence their career at seven or eight years of age, and are engaged for some time in petty thefts of loose articles from shop-doors, windows, stands, &c. Imprisonment confirms their character, and extends their range of acquaintanceship; and on being released, they generally take a higher degree in their profession. When a young thief commences picking pockets, he is launched into the routine of dissipation of a regular thief's life; he becomes united to a "mob," of which there are many in London; some named from the house they use, but more generally from the neighbourhood to which they belong. He frequents the flash-houses, where he is taught to drink, dance, smoke, and gamble; here cards, dice, shove-halfpenny, and other games, are always going on, so that sufficient opportunity exists of getting rid of superfluous money. It is a common opinion, that schools for the tuition of the younger thieves exist at these houses, but no regular system of such instruction is now carried on. Some years ago, it was customary for old thieves to select young ones, and form them into a mob, to act under their direction, and then a system of teaching was practised. But, since the establishment of the new police, the same facilities do not present themselves, and no regular system is now in practice. Occasionally, when an old thief is present amongst a number of young ones, the latter practise their craft upon one another, and sometimes receive gratuitous instruction.

The confession of one individual presents an affecting instance of the prevalence of evil associations and habits over good parental example and education. His father was a banker's clerk; and both parents were sober, industrious, and religious. He received a smattering of a classical education; and, having a predilection for reading, went through a great many books,—such, for instance, as the Waverley Novels. He chose a seafaring life, and went voyages to Lisbon, Genoa, Leghorn, Zante, and Constantinople, the Brazils, &c. He afterwards enlisted, in 1836, in the British Auxiliary Legion, and remained in Spain for ten months; when, tired of the hardships of the Spanish service, he deserted, along with sixteen others, escaping into France, and finding his way back to England. Now commenced his career of crime. He soon got acquainted with bad characters; and, from the facility with which he obtained money by depredation, soon became a regular and accomplished thief. One week with another, he obtained from 31. to 41.: on one occasion, he and a companion picked the pocket of a foreign lady, who had come from Manchester to Liverpool by the railway; they obtained a small pocket-book, which contained 2731. They afterwards saw bills posted up, offering a reward for the recovery of the money, which was supposed to have been lost. His share was rapidly spent in reckless dissipation. Not quite a fortnight elapsed from entering upon a course of crime to his first apprehension; but it was ten months before he was convicted. Eighteen months is, perhaps, on an average, the time before a depredator is convicted; he may be frequently apprehended, without being convicted, but some are apprehended and convicted for their first crime, while others go on for three, six, or even ten or twelve years.

Two boys, who were confined together in Coldbath-fields' prison, planned a thieving excursion to Kidderminster. They got a dog-cart, stole two dogs from Smithfield, and bought hardware, brooms, &c. at a shop near Farringdon-street, to the amount of 17s. While they were purchasing these articles, two companions stole for them a dozen and a half of hand-brooms from the door; they valued them at 5s., making, as four were concerned, 18. 3d. each. P. and H. paid them 2s. 6d. They also took with them twenty sixpences and ten shillings bad money, which they concealed in a large false bottom of the cart. Thus equipped, H. with 5s,

P. with 15s. 6d., they started off about twelve at noon, in the winter or end of autumn. At Wandsworth they sold a mat for 1s. 4d., and a broom for 11d. They went on to Wimbledon, and called at a public-house, where they had a pint of beer, for which they gave a bad sixpence. The landlady served them, and then went into the inner bar and continued serving. The boy H. reached round, and took four silver salt-spoons which were on a shelf; he would have taken the salt-cellars, but was afraid they might soon be missed. They decamped, bought some bread and cheese, and hastened out of the town in about ten minutes after the robbery. At Kingston they went to a travellers' house, and sold the spoons to their landlord, who gave them board and lodging for the night and next day, with 5s. for the bargain. They proceeded on their journey, and about half-past ten a coach passed them on the road; a small trunk was fastened on behind the seat. P. ran after the coach, climbed up, and cut it down. It contained a quantity of papers, and nothing else. They tore the papers into shreds, and, having destroyed the box, they hid the pieces. This box was subsequently advertised, and a reward of 501. offered for the recovery.

At the next town (the boy did not recollect the names of the places), about eleven or twelve miles from Kingston, they went to a public-house; it was market-day. H. made cloth caps, and in the course of the evening he sold a dozen and a half, at Is. 6d. each, to the countrymen in the tap-room. They stole a great-coat which belonged to one of their customers, and hid it in the false bottom of their cart. There was a hue-and-cry for it; some suspected the boys, but the landlady said she could be answerable that the poor lads were innocent. Having proceeded next day on their route, they sold it to a passing countryman for 3s. H. considers it to have been worth about 7s.

For three weeks they lived entirely on the produce of what they sold, and ultimately arrived at Kidderminster.

They put up for a short time at a travellers' house. Houses of this description are in every town, price 3d. or 4d. a-night; they have a common kitchen, where the trampers cook and live. (P. confirmed this, and stated that the better sort pay 6d., and have the attendance of a girl to cook.)

At every lodging-house on the road, H. met plenty of trampers, and he did not see one face that he had not seen at St. Giles's. They also recognised him, and compared notes. Some were hawkers, some were going half-naked, some were ballad-singers, some were going about with false letters, others as broken-down tradesmen, some as old soldiers, and some as shipwrecked sailors; and every night they told each other of good houses. They all lived well, never ate any broken victuals, but had meat breakfasts, good dinners, hot suppers, and frequently ended by going to bed very drunk. Not one spent less than 3s. a-day, many a great deal more. They sometimes make 5s., and average 3s. 6d. per day; some often get a sovereign where humane people reside.

P. having been employed at a carpet manufactory before he came to London, went to visit his old friends, and was soon able to introduce H. Every day these boys stole balls of twine and string from this place. They daily went there to take whatever they could lay their hands upon, and have brought out two or three dozen balls of a day in their great-coat pockets, finding a ready market for their plunder in the rag-shops. The first lot they sold was worth about 17., and they got 10s. 6d. for it. They did not dispose of any stock-in-trade while in the town, but lived by plundering the manufactory and picking pockets in the streets. Some of the property they pawned, some they sold to trampers at the lodging-houses.

P. and H. were very punctual in attendance at the churches, where they always robbed. They took three watches; one was pawned for 15s., the other two for 1. a-piece. P. is very clever at "easing a yokel [i. e. a countryman] of his watch."

They went to a fair about fifteen miles from Kidderminster, leaving their dogs and cart at a public-house about two miles from the scene. P., who can play "prick in the garter," soon got a mob, and soon found "bettors." He allowed them to win nearly all the money he had, and then won it back with double interest. In the mean time H. (who never appeared to know P.) was very busy rifling the farmers' pockets of their money bags. (He minutely described the bags, as being to him a matter of great singularity.) He took eight bags in a short time, but the richest of the eight contained only 15s.; he also took seven handkerchiefs. One of the party having lost a bet, applied to his pocket, but missed his purse: a row ensued, every one felt his pockets; the robbed and the swin dled gave vent to their anger, and, having secured P., took him to a pond and ducked him. H. decamped when the storm was