ple exercise for the taste of the architect and the skill of the artist. The capital of this order, according to an ancient report, was copied from an appearance noticed by an Athenian sculptor in passing the tomb of a young lady. A basket covered with a tile had been placed upon it, and round this an acanthus spread its leaves, the tops of which were bent downwards, in the form of volutes, by the resistance of the superincumbent tile. This hint is one reputed origin of the order. Others say that as the shaft of the column represents the trunk of a tree, so the tree being lopped and spreading again, furnished the hint for the design of the capital. The height of a Corinthian column is ten diameters, or twenty modules, in which the base and capital are both included. The The fifth architectural order is the Composite, so called because it is composed by uniting the characteristics of two orders, namely, the Ionic and the Corinthian. It has the rich flowery decorations of the latter, with the well marked volute of the Ionic curving over them. It is more slender than the Corinthian, and more ornamented with sculpture in general, but not necessarily. However there are several kinds of Composite, described by archictects, which differ in several particulars from each other. The Composite has been much used in modern buildings, as affording great room for the display of the taste and genius of the architect. If, however, it gives ample opportunity for ornament, it is found equally to give room for unnatural display, and other errors of bad taste; so that, upon the whole, the classical orders are still the most generally admired. These five, or, more correctly speaking, the first four are what may be termed the classic orders of architecture, having been those in use by the ancients, whose works have never been surpassed. The Chinese and other eastern nations differ widely from us in their style of architecture, and to our taste many of their buildings appear not a little fantastic. The columns are not necessarily of of these styles, the Norman Gothic, and equal thickness throughout their whole the latter the Saxon Gothic. height, but vary according to certain rules and the taste of the artist. A column is either quite smooth and plain, or it is fluted, that is, having channels or furrows cut lengthways. The names of most of these orders are derived from the countries where they were first brought into use. Other nations, however, and other ages, have, as you may suppose, had peculiar modes of building, to which the appellation style has been given. Thus we have the Gothic style, marked chiefly by its pointed arch, and which is a favourite style in the building of churches. This is exhibited in the adjoined cut of a Gothic window. The Saxon style, in which an arch of a semicircular form predominates, prevailed at one period among our ancestors in England, and is still found in some of their finest old buildings. Some writers call the former I may, in conclusion, mention a few others of the principal terms used in architecture. A Pilaster differs from a column in being square or flat, instead of round, and, like a column, may be either plain or fluted. It is generally set in the wall as if only half of it were seen. A Colonnade is a range of columns, usually of the same size. The term intercolumniation is applied to the space between columns. An Arch is a building in the form of a segment of a circle, or other curve, and is of much importance, particularly in the building of bridges. It has been described as an assemblage of stones of the form of wedges, so arranged as to give TELL you a story, Mary ?—Indeed, they are at home; and indeed they do a love, I hardly know what sort of story to tell you. Shall it be about a frogor a fairy-a giant-or seven little kittens and an old cat-or Dear, dear, aunt-not such silly stories, please something sensible-I don't like nonsense I am very glad indeed to hear you say so, replied Mrs. Delcourt, and I take shame to myself for not knowing it before; I ought to have remembered that a young lady of seven great deal of mischief. Do you know that Charles pulled off my doll's wig, when I was a little girl?-and then he is so fond of making our cat ride the pony That accounts for his scratched face, my love; you see the crime brings the punishment along with it. Very true, so I say, replied the wise little lady; and then, raising up her mild blue eyes to her aunt's face, continued; If I bring my work and sit down here, will you tell me about Holyday Time? Eight, ma'am, the month after next― Beg pardon-of eight the month after Yes, love. You have often heard me next-could never enjoy such nonsense— speak of old Mr. Martin, who kept a suDo you remember what you once told perior sort of school for country boys in me about Holyday Time in old Mr. Mar- the little village of Brayford; he was a tin's school? I should wish, if you please, very amiable man, and had known betto hear that again, because I know all ter days, as they are called-although about girls' holyday time, and I should he possessed so well-regulated a mind, like to hear about boys'. Mamma says, that I have often heard him say he thankmy brothers are very troublesome when ed Heaven for his afflictions, because by them he had been taught to look for consolation to God, and the pure religion that He has given us; 'which,' he would add, I forgot to do before I had felt what sorrow was.' His school-room was very cheerful; its rustic window looked out upon the village, and was shaded by vines and sweet-scented clematis, that the old gentleman loved to train and prune after his own fashion. I have of ten seen him employed in this way when his pupils were playing all manner of games on the village green; and he would sometimes stop and look upon them, and smile, and sigh, and then wipe away the tear that hung upon his long grey eyelashes. Why did he sigh and weep then, when the boys were happy? inquired little Mary. He remembered the days of his own youth, my dear; perhaps he sighed because he had not improved them as much as he ought; perhaps the tear started, when he thought that even those rustic, laughing boys must encounter much care and sorrow in their path through life; and I am certain that he offered up a silent prayer to God, that they might all become good and worthy members of society-but to my story, if story it may be called. I had been some weeks absent from the manor house; and as I was, like you, my Mary, very fond of old people, the first visit I paid, on my return, was to the village school, to see Mr. Martin, dear old man! He was seated in his great oak chair, whose high back was carved into stiff roses and great spreading carnations; his own peculiar pet table, of shining mahogany, placed before him, his elbow resting on it, and his withered hand shading the sunbeams from his eyes. Some of the boys were playing at ball, some at leapfrog, and others were flying their spotted kites on the green. After our mutual salutations had passed, I inquired how it occurred that all the boys were at play at such an hour. 'This,' he replied, 'is a holyday. You must know that one of my boys, little Alexander M'Ginnis, performed a very noble action yesterday. Our good rector offered a prize to the boy who wrote the best explanation of the Lord's Prayer; and certainly, had it not been that I considered such an exercise would be beneficial in every way, I confess I should have felt much annoyed at the extra trouble it occasioned me; such copying and recopying; such wasting of slate pencils and writing paper; such bustle, such confusion! Well, it was very likely that either Alexander M'Ginnis or Robert Blakeney would receive the prize; they had both taken great pains, and both wrote excellent hands. The night before last, the boys showed me their productions; it is so fortunate,' said Robert, 'that mine was finished before I cut my thumb in this dreadful manner, which would have prevented my writing at all.' I pointed out to him two or three passages where stops were necessary, remarking, at the same time, HOLYDAY TIME. how pleased I was that he had written it so well, as the rector would not look at any manuscripts that were blotted; the poor fellow took the pen, and, unfortunately, while placing the stops, upset the ink-bottle over his essay; it grieved me, for the tears streamed down his fine goodhumored face; and, indeed, Alexander was as sorry as Bob. You'll have it now, Sandy, I'm sure,' he observed, 'I do not mind so much for myself, but my poor mother is so anxious about it; I am her only comfort since father died.' Sandy said nothing; and the two boys went home together. Yesterday morning, to be sure, was one of great preparation; the rector, and the young ladies from the Parsonage, and a great many of the villagers, assembled to hear the reading and see the prize bestowed. They gave it in their papers according to their ages; and, as Alexander and Robert are the same ages, their productions went up together. I was astonished to perceive that Robert's paper was quite clean and free from blots! Both were read; and to be sure, I heard Miss Elizabeth say that either would do credit to many a clergyman. 'The prize, I think,' said the rector, 'must be adjudged to Robert Blakeney, inasmuch as his essay is more concentrated, and written in as good a hand as that of Alexander M'Ginnis; although,' he continued, 'the writing is very similar.' 'If you please, sir, may I speak?' said Robert, rising off the form, in defiance of the efforts Sandy made to keep him 383 down; 'if you please, sir, it was Alexander who wrote that, sir. I was so unfortunate, last night, as to spill the contents of the ink-bottle over what I had written, and I could not recopy it, because I had given my thumb so bad a cut; so I gave it up, knowing that you would not look at a blotted paper. Alexander managed to take it out of my desk, sir, and sat up all night to copy it off; and took so much pains to write it well, that it might pass for my hand-writing; though it was all against himself, sir; and he cried so bitterly when I said that I would not send it up, that I let it go to pacify him; but I was resolved, if you please, sir, to tell the truth; for, much as I wished for the prize, I have no right-' |