can see the parting of its lips, and hear them whisper, 'Where is my child-does he seek to win Christ ?""

The compassionate bookseller gazed upon her with deep feeling: the woman so feeble in body, yet so steadfast in what she believed right, was a new interest to him. He rose without a word, went to a dingy escrutoire, opened the top, which folded down, and taking out a small bag of gold, selected a sovereign. "Go homewards," said he, "and as you go, purchase a bottle of Port wine, and what my housekeeper calls a shin of beef. Make it all, mind you, every atom, into beef tea."

"For Richard?"

"No, woman, for yourself; the weakness of your body adds to the weakness of your sight, and may, eventually, impair your mind. Pray, my good soul, for yourself, as well as for your son. Lay out the money faithfully for the purpose I have named; I know how it is, I know that you feed him-but you devote his surplus earnings to pay your little debts. I have seen you, on a Monday morning, enter a baker's shop, with a thin marble-covered book rolled in your hand. I have seen you pay the baker money, and you have left the shop without a loaf. Now, mind what I say."

"But a whole sovereign!" she said, "it is too much-might I not pay-"

"Not a farthing out of that!" he exclaimed, why you are quite as much of a shadow as when I saw you first. Well, if you are too proud to take it as a gift, your son shall repay it hereafter. And do not be so anxious about Richard; have you ever considered that great anxiety about any earthly thing, is want of faith in almighty wisdom and goodness? Has He not taken your husband, as you believe, into his presence for evermore? At the very time when you feared most for your boy, did not a door open to him? and was not the crooked made straight? It has always seemed most unaccountable to me, how people, and good people like you-who have hope for ever on their lips-suffer so much fear to enter their hearts."

But there was so much to cheer and encourage in the generosity and kindness of the worthy man, and in the faithful, yet unpretending, nature of his words, that the widow's hope returned, at all events for a time, to her heart as well as to her lips. She might again have wandered-again have inquired if he thought her "little lad was quite safe," for she never, in her best of days, could embrace more than one subject at a time-but his housekeeper entered with two cups of broth.

"You forget the time," she said, abruptly— "though I'm thinking it won't return the compliment to either of you; I can't say much for the broth, for the meat is not what it was long ago."

"If the master gets a fit," she continued, turning to the widow, "it will be your faultkeeping him without bit or sup here, take the broth, it ain't pison, and master's no ways proud; I wish he was. If you can't take your broth here comfortably, come with me to the kitchen." Holding the cup in one hand, and leading the more than half-blind sempstress with the other, she conducted her down the narrow, dark stairs, as carefully as a mother would lead a child, but before she had seated her by the fire, the bell rang.

"I rang for you," said her master, "knowing that your heart and words do not always go together”

"Then I tells lies; thank ye, sir," she said, curtseying.

"No, only I wish you to bear in mind, that Richard's mother is in a very low, nervous state." "How can any one passing through this valley o' tears be anything else?" interrupted the incorrigible woman.

Her master seemed as though he heard her not. "And if you speak to her in your usual grumpy, disagreable manner"-she curtseyed more deeply than before "you add to her misery. I am sure your natural kindness of heart will tell you how cruel that would be."

66

Putting live worms on fishing-hooks, or roasting live cockles would be nothing to it," observed Matty. Now as the bookseller had a piscatorial weakness, was, moreover, fond of roast cockles, and had recently complained that Matty had forgotten his taste;-this was a very hard hit; he looked discomforted, upon which Martha rejoiced. He was by no means ready-witted-but he was occasionally readily angered-and replied to the sarcasm with a bitter oath, producing an effect directly contrary to what he intended. Martha quitted the dusty room, as if suffocated by satisfaction, and went grumbling and tittering down stairs.

"It was a Lucky Penny, sure enough," she said, "that brought my master and your son together."

The widow pushed away the unfinished cup of broth.

"And of another, who made his fortune by one just as Richard will," added Matty, relenting.

And yet, despite this and her other sarcasms, it was curious to see how Martha struggled to keep in her bitter words; when she looked at the widow's shrunk and trembling form, and wasted, though still beautiful features, her better nature triumphed; but if her eyes were fixed upon her kitchen deities, she became sharp and acid immediately. Had she moved in a higher grade of society, with her peculiar talent, she might have been

"That dangerous thing, a female wit,"

as it was, she kept her master (to whom, from her stern honesty of pocket and purpose, as well as from "habit,” that great enslaver of

our "kind," she was invaluable) on a species of rack, while the only peaceful time Richard spent in her society, was while he read to her what she called, “the state of Europe on the paper."

"He will soon have been twelve months in his place," said the widow, smiling.

"Come next new-year's-day, if we live to see it; Richard says he'll watch at the corner for the old gentleman."

"Bother! I daresay he's dead long ago."

66

"No, he is not dead; I am sure he is not dead," replied the widow. "I should like him to see my boy now; I hope he is not dead-" Ay, ay, well we shall see," quoth Matty. "Before Peter-(down, Peter, jewel!)—before Peter came, we had a dog called Hope-the most desaven'est crayture she was that ever stole a bone; and always brought it back— when there was nothing on it."

THE County of Cornwall, in which St. Mawes is situated, presents few points of attraction to the artist, unless it be the bold rocky scenery found on its coasts. In this general absence of the picturesque, it affords a remarkable contrast to the topographical features of the neighbouring county, Devonshire, so abounding with all that the landscape painter loves to look upon and portray; deep glens and well-wooded heights, streams and water-falls, rich pastures and green moorlands; seawards and inland, the aspect of the country is most luxurious and magnificent. The artist, travelling through it must not say that he is "in search of the picturesque," everywhere it surrounds his footsteps; his difficulty is that, being so embarras des richesses, he scarcely knows how or where to select.

But Cornwall also is not without its wealth; it lies, however, far below the surface, while that of Devonshire is visible on all sides; the genius of the country, like the ancient King of Judah, spreading out its treasures openly for the admiration of the stranger, who, if he proceeds farther westward, must descend into the caverns of the earth to find its hidden stores. And yet there is not a single district in the whole of England which, regarded commercially, geographically, or historically, is of more importance in its products, or more curious and interesting with respect to the manners and customs of its inhabitants. It is universally admitted that long before the

Roman legions had found their way hither, the ships of the Phoenicians had cast anchor in some of the innumerable bays on the Cornish coast, to permit the Syrian sailors to freight their vessels with the lead and the tin of the "Cassiterides," or "tin islands," as the ancients named the country; in return for which, Strabo writes, they left behind them earthenware, salt, and copper-goods. A story is told, though we forget by whom, that at a later date, a Roman fleet followed a ship, engaged in the traffic, from some port of western Europe towards Britain, for the purpose of ascertaining where these metals were procured; and the captain of the trader, rather than divulge a secret he was desirous of limiting to his own country, run his vessel ashore on the French coast, and perished in it with all his crew. It will be sufficient for the purpose of showing the present importance of these mines, to state that more than three-fourths of the entire population of the county are directly, or indirectly, employed in working them.

But it seems strange that, as we learn from Strabo, the Phoenicians should have imported copper articles to the extreme western part of England, when copper and tin are now found to be the chief minerals it produces. If this statement be correct, we can only suppose that the ore of the former metal had not then been discovered. The geological formations of the mining districts are very singular, and can scarcely be accounted for on any known

laws of natural production. Writers on the geology of this district inform us, that the extent of many of the metalliferous veins is unknown, as well as the depth to which they extend: no miner has yet seen the end or bottom of a vein. Their width also varies much," from the thickness of a sheet of paper to thirty feet," but they are commonly found one to three feet thick. The ores of copper or tin do not often occur together in the same vein, at any very great depth. If tin be first discovered, it sometimes disappears after sinking about one hundred feet, and is succeeded by copper; but if copper be discovered first, it is rarely, if ever, succeeded by tin. It is seldom that either ore is found nearer to the surface than eighty or a hundred feet; and if a copper vein meets one of tin, the former usually passes through the latter, and "heaves it out of its course."

It was probably owing to the mineral wealth of this county, which, commercially, was of so great value, that Cornwall had peculiar rights of its own, and a jurisdiction independent of other parts of the kingdom. Edward the Black Prince, was created Duke of Cornwall in 1337, and an act of parliament settled the title on the eldest son of the kings of England in perpetuity. The immediate government of the county is vested in the Duke, who appoints his chancellor, attorney-general, solicitor-general, sheriffs, and his court of exchequer. At the present time, and until the Prince of Wales becomes of age, his Royal Highness Prince Albert acts for him. The revenues attached to the dukedom, which arise from the duty on tin, the rents of manors, and various other sources, amounted some few years since to upwards of twenty thousand pounds annually. The miners claim to be exempt from all jurisdiction but that of the "stannary," or mining courts, except in cases where "land, life, or limb" are concerned.

Some of the most curious antiquarian remains in Cornwall are the numerous blocks of stone placed either in lines or in circles, and which would seem to have a druidical origin, while some writers suppose them to be monumental. Near Liskeard, for instance, are three circles, tolerably close to each other, formed originally by erect stones placed at some distance; several of the stones have been carried away, and others thrown down. The superstition of the people has attached to these remains a legend that they were once men, who were transformed into stones, as a punishment for engaging in the sport of hurling on the Sabbath, and hence they have acquired the epithet of "the hurlers." A similar story is related of another heap in the parish of St. Buryan, where nineteen girls are said to have been converted into as many blocks of stone, for dancing on the Sabbath-day.

The introduction of an engraving like that from Mr. Creswick's picture of "St. Mawes," affords an appropriate opportunity for making a few observations of a general character upon the country which the artist has visited; and especially so, when the immediate locality presents no very interesting topic for description. St. Mawes stands on the southern side of the county, on an arm of the Carrick-road, an inlet of the sea on which Falmouth is placed. The town, which up to the passing of the reform act, returned two member to parliament, is a miserable little place, consisting of one street only, built under a hill by the sea, and containing a few houses inhabited by fishermen. It had neither church nor chapel till about forty years since, when one was erected by the late Marquis of Buckingham. The castle was built by Henry VIII., it defends Falmouth on the east side, as the larger fort of Pendennis does on the west. Mr. Creswick has selected the most picturesque point, to show the peculiar features of the scene.

was

"THE Crystal Palace"-we like better its old name, simply because the Crystal Palace "the palace of the people," and because the prestige of its old name is something so dear to our memories, that we would not have it changed. It was "the people's palace" from the first-consecrated to them, and for them, by their Queen; and we believe, that, when

transplanted to another soil, it will flourish, "like a green bay tree," sacred to utility as well as to enjoyment.

There are, of course, many who protested against its removal, many who objected to its distance, and now many who gravely prophesy that "it will not succeed," that it will not be patronized, that it is too far from town, that