doubtless, he observed the habits he has so truthful- | Of a copy of the "Rape of Lucrece, printed by J. ly and poetically described? For instance: "The Marigold that goes to bed with the sun, and with him rises weeping." This beautiful allusion to the sleep of plants Shakespeare elsewhere completes, when he describes the Marigold waking at morning : — "And winking Marybuds begin Again he sings: "Her eyes like Marigolds have sheathed their light, And canopied in darkness sweetly lay, Till they might open to adorn the day." The name of French Marigold was probably given to this flower in consequence of its having reached England from the South of Europe through France. It would be curious to know why our lively neighbors gave the melancholy name of "Souci de Jardin" to this bright-looking flower! The Marigold is now superseded by the numerous new flowers introduced into our gardens. Yet its banishment may be regretted; the French Marigold is rich in color, regular in form, and its scent particularly refreshing when the morning dew is on the leaves. In addition to these attractions, methinks, we should cherish a flower that our great Shakespeare admired, and sang of so poetically." 7,000 fr. B. for Roger Jackson, 1624,” a curious circumstance is told. It appears that this copy was "very fine," with the exception of the woodcut and imprint upon the title having been cut out and replaced. While in the hands of a former possessor who had a fancy for collecting the woodcut devices of printers, the piece alluded to was cut out from the title and placed in a volume devoted to such collections; but, after the lapse of more than a century, the identical piece was found, and has been replaced by Mr. Bedford, the bookbinder, well known for his skill in repairing volumes. This edition of the Rape of Lucrece" is of excessive rarity, no copy having been in the famous collection of Mr. Daniell, nor in any other which has occurred for sale of late years. Another feature with "Shakespeariana' was the Shakespeare Forgeries and Controversy, William Henry Ireland's own collections, the first lot of which was the original forgeries to "Miscellaneous Papers under the Hand and Seal of William Shakespeare," and containing, amongst other make-believes," a lock of Ann Hathaway's hair!" 66 never UNDER the title of "The Confessions of Cousin Amy," the heroine of Tennyson's "Locksley Hall," contributes an amusing page to London Fun. M. COURBET, the French artist, is another in-cared very much for Alfred; except, of course, as a "I may as well begin by telling you that stance of a man who awakes one fine morning to cousin. Our mode of living at Locksley Hall was find himself famous. For several years past, says now and then a trifle dull, you see; and I found it the Pall Mall Gazette, he has been painting pictures which only now and then were admitted at the a pleasant relief to get verses written in my album, or to have the leaves of my music-book turned over salon, and of which nobody took any notice. But when I chose to play theHarmonious Blacksmith the tide that leads on to fortune has come at last. with Variations,' the March in Blue Beard, and the This year he sends his "La Femme au Perroquet " Minuet de la Cour.' At the age of sixteen I could to the Exhibition and all at once finds himself the fashion of the hour. He sells this painting for perform these three pieces with great fluency and A stockbroker gives him 15,000 fr. for a that I could perform no others. The composition of expression; it was, therefore, much to be regretted landscape, also in the salon, called La Remise des the Harmonious Blacksmith' has been attributed, Chevreuils," adding, at the same time, a commis- by the general voice of mankind, to Handel; and sion on equally good terms for a picture of a naked that of the March in Blue Beard is assigned with Eve of the same size as the other nude figure teas- equal unanimity to Michael Kelly; but the authoring the parrot. The "Femmes Damnées," a paint-ship of the Court Minuet remains veiled in the mists ing which was refused by the hanging committee three years ago, has also been sold for 12,000 fr., and several landscapes at from 5,000 to 12,000 fr. Courbet's studio is crowded daily with aristocratic "This poor boy's father was killed in the Mahratta visitors, and commissions pour in on him that will war; and my beloved parents — the kindest parents keep him busy for years to come. This is a story that ever breathed that contrasts curiously with that of poor Holtzapfel, It was no easy task, I should think, to so superintend took charge of the orphan. who put a pistol to his head the other week because the education of such a vain, forward, self-willed, and he had been painting for years without any recog-passionate child. nition of merit and had his pictures of this year rejected at the salon. Courbet's case looked just as bad, only he lived on, and the lucky day, it turns out, was close at hand. SOME very rare books from the famous library of Count Libri, and other collections, have just been sold in London. Conspicuous in the gathering were some most interesting Shakespeariana and old plays. These are nearly all accompanied by anecdotes and bibliographical descriptions in the catalogue. Concerning an edition of the "Merchant of Venice," bearing date 1652, it is said: "This is the edition of 1637, with a new title, a circumstance which escaped the bibliographers of Shakespeare for about a century. The text was printed for Laurence Hayes, the successor of Thomas Hayes, or Heyes, who held the copyright. It has some peculiar readings, and a list of actors' names, which list has been repeatedly erroneously ascribed to Rowe." of obscurity. But I will now resume the history of about him is that he caught a severe influenza The earliest thing I remember eral nights in succession, to watch the great Orion through standing at the open staircase window sevsloping slowly to the west. Nobody with a grain of common sense would have selected for these nocturnal experiments a constellation which is only visible during the coldest months in the whole year. My cousin's temper was not improved by illness, as you may imagine; and it was upon my devoted head that his displays of petulance usually fell. I persevered in my attentions to the wayward invalid nevertheless; and ultimately had the satisfaction of seeing him arrowrooted into health again. "Years rolled by in alternate quarrels and reconciliations, until I reached the age of seventeen. My cousin Alfred was about a twelvemonth older; it was consequently high time that he should select some trade or profession. Any lad with an atom of spirit would, long before that age, have preferred earning an honest livelihood by his own exertions to living in dependence upon his relatives; but the notion of hard work was distasteful to this impetuous youth. He must needs become a poet, a resolve which was confirmed by my thoughtless approval of some verses he had lately written. I could scarcely help laughing outright on his confessing to me that he entertained serious hopes of being made Poet Laureate after the death of Mr. Wordsworth. Such presumption would have been inexpressibly comical had it not been inexpressibly painful. Another proof of this young man's modesty may be found in the fact of his proposing that I should become his wife. Excessively probable, forsooth, that Miss Amy Locksley, the future châtelaine of Locksley Hall, would unite her destiny to that of a penniless and obscure scribbler! I returned an evasive answer, which saved me, I have no doubt, from a terrific outburst of abuse and vituperation. Certainly I told no falsehood in saying that I loved him; for I did love him -as a cousin. Anything beyond that was, of course, entirely out of the question. "About a month after this occurrence, Alfred went up to London to seek his fortune at the point of his pen. I need hardly say that his matrimonial intentions had not been confided to my parents. With all his faults (and they were many) my cousin was not sufficiently heartless to inflict that pang upon his benefactors; and the love-passages between us were kept a profound secret. We corresponded regularly for some time; but our letters very soon began to decrease in length and interest. Alfred was evidently absorbed in the society of artists, musicians, and men of letters; and I was equally absorbed in preparations for my approaching marriage. match was in every respect a good one; and I have never yet found cause in it for one moment's regret, after twenty-five years of unalloyed happiness. My dear husband's tastes are simple; and his chief interests, apart from those which concern my own comfort and the education of our children, appear to be centred in his dog and his horse. I am thankful that my father and mother were spared to witness our domestic felicity before they were borne away to sleep their last sleep in the family vault of the Locksleys. The "Of Alfred I have seen and heard nothing since a year after my marriage. At that period he was discovered prowling about our park by one of the footmen. On being invited by the man to step into the servants' hall and take some refreshment, he angrily declined. He was shortly afterwards seen at the Locksley Arms, down in the village, in the company of several dissolute authors, who amused themselves by blowing on the bugle-horn, and drinking considerably more than was good for them. By the way, I have heard it vaguely rumored that my cousin has lately thought proper to publish a tissue of misrepresentations and calumnies respecting myself, my parents, and my husband. I can assure him that he is at liberty to make whatever use he pleases of our names; and, at the same time, I regret that he is unable to earn a dinner by more honest and reputable means. My intimate friend, Lady Clara Vere de Vere, has informed me that I am not the only sufferer from these vindictive attacks. Should their author ever attain, as he once fondly hoped, the dignity of the Laureateship, I trust that he will, at least, pay to the highest lady in the land the compliment of confining his personalities in future to offenders of his own sex.' THE JUNE DREAM. A GARDEN in the burning noon, There, while the restless shadows play - Among the flowers and by the trees These in her fancies have no part: The sound of winds and waves it takes Wide underneath the June-blue sky She sees the breadths of ocean lie, And with the opal's changeful range From blue to green alternate change, While still the sunshine on its breast Trembles and glows in its unrest. And on the far horizon white It cuts its way with creak and strain, O, brave young sailor! Eyes of blue VOL. I.] Journal of Choice Reading, SELECTED FROM FOREIGN CURRENT LITERATURE. SATURDAY, JUNE 23, 1866. THE CIGAR SHIP. We take tickets at Fenchurch Street for Poplar; and as we go upon the platform, perceive at once that we are in seaport London; none of our fellowpassengers are holiday-makers, and all seem to have something to do in the shipping or manufacturing line. The occupants of our compartment are not even inclined to lose the fifteen minutes which our journey will consume. One old gentleman in the opposite corner is studying a blue book, on the cover of which I see "Merchant Seamen's Act"; and a young man, a draughtsman to some ship-builder, I suppose, is busily unrolling some drawings, to make them up into a smaller roll. The only exceptions to the general assiduity are myself and the merchant captain next me. I suppose his ship is being repaired, for he seems to have nothing to do or care for, and he and I soon get into conversation. He begins by asking, "Have you seen the cigar-ship?" "No, I am going to see her. What do you think of her?" 66 Why," says our captain, “I think she looks like nothing else but a whale with a Greenwich boat on her back." "What do you think of her seagoing qualities?" "I think she is seaworthy as far as the Nore; but if she ever gets into the chops of the Channel, she 'll roll like Jack ashore just paid off." "But, sir," interrupts the draughtsman, who has now arranged his roll to his satisfaction, " by a proper adjustment of the weights, the centre of gravity may be brought so low that she will not roll more than any other ship. I think her worst fault will be pitching, there being so little of the ends under water to support their great weight." [No. 25. "What," says the captain, " not unlike other ships! That's a new theory. I never saw the steamer that I would not rather sail to Australia in than take this new-fangled ship across the Channel." "Well, you know, captain, that the form of the vessel above water has nothing to do with her stability; and if you take the piece of the cigar-ship that is below the water, and compare it with twenty different models of yachts, you will find at least two or three which only differ from it in having a keel and cutwater. She will certainly be very much inclined to go off to leeward when under sail, through having no projecting keel to keep her up to the wind; but I do not see that her want of keel will affect her speed in steaming; and it will certainly not affect her stability to a greater extent than can be set right by ballast." "Well, you may be right about it," says the captain; "but she will be very awkward to manage, having such a small deck; and, at the best, her peculiar form does her no good, and is only a piece of fancy on the part of her designer." But we are now at Poplar; and a walk, first through narrow streets, where boat-builders, and oakum-dealers, and pump-makers, and carvers of ships' figure-heads work and live, and past that old house once inhabited by Sir Walter Raleigh, but now a greengrocer's shop, with nothing but pieces of worm-eaten battered carving here and there to show what it once was, - and then by the riverside, and then across the gates which let ships in and out of the docks, and then along the wharfs, where piles of timber are heaped up, enough, one would suppose, to build ships for many years to come, and behold we are close to the cigar-ship, and have only to cross a bridge to be alongside. And what do we think of her? Is she like a cigar, or will our merchant-captain's simile describe her? Imagine a cigar much larger than Anak or Chang would care about smoking, — indeed, longer than any of our river-steamers; not exactly the shape of an ordinary cigar, having no blunt end, but a point at each end. Now, take a small steamer, and cut off After a minute or two, our captain resumes, in a all the part below water, and place the remaining milder tone, "What reasons have you, sir, for think-upper part on the middle of the cigar, and you have ing that the Ross Winans will be steady?" a tolerable approximation to the form of the cigarship. "O yes," replies the captain, "I know very well you shipbuilders think that by your calculations you can find out just how a ship will behave at sea. But put you aboard my craft in a gale, under close-reefed topsails, and you'd find out how little you knew. Why, you would n't be able to tell the sky from the water." "My opinions as to the seagoing qualities of vessels are only formed by comparing their respective Before we go on board, we notice at a small disforms; I cannot pretend to any other knowledge, tance from each end what appear to be, and are as I have never been to sea beyond Margate; but I really, the fins of the ship. Three metal blades are should say that, as the cigar-ship is not really so visible near each end, and three more, we are told, much unlike other ships in form as she appears to are out of sight under water. Each set of blades, or be, she will not be so much unlike them in perform-fans, forms a screw-propeller, it being intended that ance as you anticipate." the vessel shall go ahead or astern with equal facility. can assure you it is very hot here when steam is up, "O, they are stowed under the saloons and cabins; but we can get at them from here. Perhaps you have seen an absurd drawing of the ship in some shop-windows in the city. The artist appears to have seen your difficulty, and has shown the coals in the points beyond the screw. It is true we might have filled the points with coals, but we should never have been able to get them out." The propellers differ in many respects from the screw of an ordinary vessel, in there being one at each end of the ship, in half of each being out the water, whereas usually the whole is immersed, and also in the peculiar way in which they are connected with the ship. The engineers say that their six blades, of which, as they revolve, three will be always immersed, will do the same work as the three blades of an ordinary screw. Those pointed pieces beyond the screws are to divide the water as the ship goes ahead or astern; they turn round with the fans, the whole revolving with an axis or " shaft," which extends the whole length of the ship, and turning about a straight line drawn from point to point of the cigar. The ship really ends inside of the screws, and, divested of the screws and points, would look like a cigar with two blunt ends; but the form of the vessel appears perfect to the point, and the blades seem to have been thrust in to the surface. Like the fins of a fish, they are so evidently not parts of the sur-gine in the corner; his duty is to pump water into face as not to take off the effects of its curvature. On board the ship, we are first shown the engineroom. We go down a staircase so constructed as to put our hats in imminent danger of being knocked in or off, and find ourselves on one side of the engines, which are in the centre of the ship. What an intricate maze of pipes and rods and cranks, all polished to a marvellous degree of perfection! Every cubic inch appears to have been made some use of; and when the engineer, who has volunteered to show us the engines, lifts up a piece of iron in the flooring, we see that the small place beneath is full of pipes and taps also. "Our great difficulty," says he, "has been to find room for everything; we never fitted engines of such great power in so small a space. You can see here," he resumes, "the way in which the ship is put together. This, which you can touch, is the half-inch outside plating. What would they have said a few years ago to having ships half an inch thick!" He informs us that these half-inch flat iron plates form the skin of the ship, and are kept out to their curved form by iron ribs, which, in the ends of the vessel, are complete circles; but here, where we are roofed in by a deck, they form three parts of a circle, and the ends turn up, and make the upper boatshaped portion of the ship. The ribs are formed of what are technically called angle-irons, a section being an angle, each of whose two bounding lines is about half an inch thick. An idea of the form of one of these ribs may be obtained by half opening a book, first dividing the leaves in the middle of the book. One of the covers with its leaves may be taken to represent the leaf of the rib which is next the skin, the other the leaf which is at right angles to it, and imparts the strength required to keep the skin in its proper form. The advantage of this form of rib appears to be, that it can be easily fastened to the skin by rivets. The ribs in the engine-room are placed about a yard and a half apart, that being the largest compartment of the ship, and also being subjected to great strains by the motion of the engines. As the engine is only interesting through being fitted in so small a space, we do not spend much time over it, but ask our guide to show us the next compartment. He says the next is the stokehole; so we mount the staircase, and go down a still more difficult descent into a box about three or four yards square. We notice four furnaces, two on the fore and two on the after side. "You see," says our guide, "there is not much room for stoking, and I I remark that they seem to have a very small space for water in the boiler. "Yes, only three inches all round the furnace; and so our pumping arrangements have to be very carefully contrived, so that the boilers shall be filled as rapidly as the water is turned into steam. I must introduce you to the donkey, this small enthe boilers, and to work the ventilating apparatus." "The ventilating apparatus,-where is that?" I ask. "The part of it which you can see here is that tube overhead, and the barrel through which it appears to pass. The tube extends nearly the whole length of the ship, and the small pipes convey the hot air into it from the cabins. It empties itself into the barrel, in which are revolving fans. The donkey turns the fans, and thus the air is drawn out of the tube, and expelled through the opening which you see in the barrel. When we have steam up, we are so hot here that the heated air from the cabins is cooling, and as we only get the draught on our heads, it is something like having one's feet in a warm bath, and head in a snow-storm." "And I suppose the donkey works that ballastmachine which I have heard of as one of the curiosities of the cigar-ship?" "O no; there is another small engine on purpose," answers the engineer. "You know, then, that we have something new in the way of ballast. It is under the engine-room, just in the middle of the ship, and consists of a pendulum of lead weighing about seventeen tons. When the ship is too much over on one side, we move the pendulum to the other, and she is righted at once; so you see we shall not roll over and over in the first heavy sea we meet, as people are fond of saying about us. You have now seen all I can show you of the engines; I suppose you will not care about the saloons, which are only painted and gilded as they might be in any other yacht, but would prefer seeing the novelties of the ship. If so, I am at your service." Cheerfully accepting this offer, we ascend to the deck, and go forward. Here is a ladder-way to the smoking-saloon, but just above it we are told to look for the steering apparatus, or rather the part of it which is to be seen above the deck. The compass is in close proximity to it, and is so suspended as to be unaffected by the pitching of the ship, and to uninterruptedly tell its tale in storm and calm. The representative on deck of the steering apparatus is a brass handle and axle, the handle something like that we see used to set a railway locomotive in motion. The handle turns horizontally, the axle being vertical, and, as we are informed, extending the whole depth of the ship. It is of course impossible to put the rudder in its usual position at the stern of the ship, the stern in this case being one of the cones which revolve with the fans; so where could it be placed, and how moved? This was one of the many problems the solution of which the peculiar | partments, the partitions being made water-tight; form of the vessel involved. The rudders (for there is one aft, and one forward) are square thin pieces of metal, and if we could see under water, they would appear to project from the keel. One edge touches it, and the other three edges are made sharp like a knife, so as to offer no resistance to the water. The axle, of which we can see the upper end, runs out through a tube to form a connection with the middle rudder, and about it the rudder turns. And having thus settled to our satisfaction the steering question, we ask what next. "The next interesting thing," says our guide, "will be the anchor, or rather that part of its gear which can be seen on board. To see it, we must pay a visit to Jack's quarters: here is the boatswain, we will ask him if we can go there." The boatswain, on being asked, says that Jack has just finished his dinner, and if we don't mind the odor of pea-soup, we are at liberty to go; and he'll go with us, as Mr. Jones is wanted ashore. As we walk along the deck, he informs me that" We berth the blue-jackets right aft, abaft the cabins, and the stokers for'ard; but what you want to see you'll best see in Jack's quarters." We accordingly descend another ladder, and first we notice a table in the middle extending the whole length of the compartment. "That," the boatswain informs us, "is the casing of the shaft. You know how it is just in the middle all the length of her, in the way everywheres, and the shipwrights have had to make tables, and steps to ladders out of its casing, anything to hide it, just as the ladies like you to think a sofa bedstead's only a sofa. The men use that table to mess on, and sleep in the berths along the side." "What! in those places that look like shelves in a linen-draper's shop?" "Yes; there is just height enough between two shelves for a man to get in and drop down inside the boarding in front, which keeps him from rolling out. Talk about over-cramming the people that the railways turn out of their houses; none of 'em are crammed like this I know; but sailors are used to it. But you want to see about our anchors. I don't believe in 'em myself. Our guv'ner thinks they'll hold her by their weight; but I don't think as the skipper trusts to 'em much, for he's got a pair of others as a stand-by." We cannot see anything like an anchor, and are decidedly of opinion that a cabin is not the most likely place to find one; but our guide does not leave us to wonder long. He shows us an upright iron tube, something like a small funnel, up which, he tells us, the chain comes from the anchor. Another strange contrivance! The anchor is shaped like a mushroom, and has a hole just its shape cut out of the bottom of the vessel for it, so that when it is "weighed" the surface of the ship is unbroken, and there is nothing to tell of the existence of an anchor. When the ship is to be anchored, the chain is let go, and the mushroom is dropped into the water to find a hold in the bottom of the sea. The compartment at the other end of the ship corresponding to the one we are now in is appropriated for the stokers. Although it is much like the other, we go to see it, passing on our way the cooking-place, which is in a house on the deck. We are rewarded for our trouble: the doors between this house and the spaces on the fore-side of it happen to be now open, and we can see one of the ends of the vessel. The ship is divided into eight com and thus hitherto, in going from one to another, we have had to ascend to the deck, and descend by another ladder. But now we cannot do this, as we are in the extremities of the ship, beyond the deck. The remaining spaces must be entered through this, and so the usual contrivance of water-tight doors is adopted, the doors being shut upon india-rubber, and screwed close, so that the india-rubber completely fills the joint. These compartments are used for provisions and stores. At the end of the next one to us is the bulkhead or partition upon which the shaft turns, and which communicates the power of the screw to the ship. It is made very strong, and is rigidly connected with the ship, it being the part of the ship which first receives the moving force of the screw, and thus has a tendency to move from its position. "And now for the saloons," says the boatswain: and accordingly we visit them, and see that the engineer's description is correct. Everything is done on the principle of getting as much accommodation as possible out of a little space. The cabins in which the officers will eat, drink, and sleep are about the size of a compartment of a railway carriage. "And what do you think of the Ross Winans?" says our guide in parting; "isn't she a queer fish?" Without expressing ourselves in such decided terms, it is certain that any one who has seen the cigar-ship must allow that, in many respects, she is a great curiosity; and whatever may be thought of her chances of answering the expectations of the owners, there can be but one opinion as to the excellent and skilful manner in which every detail has been suited to the general design. ARE wigs immoral? — because if not, one scarcely perceives a reason why the newspaper moralists who are so fond of describing Anonyma and Cora Pearl with a kind of reprehensive voluptuousness of detail, should waste so much moral strength in denouncing the practice of using hair-dyes. It is not wickeder, one would think, in itself, than wearing false teeth, or scattering powder, or padding, and all those sins have hitherto escaped with very lenient censure from the newspaper pulpit. Hair-powder, it is true, since it became a taxable offence has been condemned as nasty, which it is, and ugly, which, as any one will acknowledge who has ever seen an old minuet at the opera, it decidedly is not. It suited bright faces very well, though it made the pallid ghastly, and its disappearance, though a gain to cleanliness, was a loss to that variety of appearance which is the greatest external charm of society. People, footmen excepted, have forgotten powder, but they have not forgotten adornments as deceitful as the hair-dyes against which they are so amusingly and unintelligibly indignant. The practice of using them is not a novel one. Women, and men too, have dyed their hair from time immemorial, and there has not been an interval within the last three centuries during which hairdressers have not employed pigments to conceal grayness, whiteness, or eccentricity of color in the hair. The only thing new is the fashionable shade, and the introduction of that shade is in one way a very distinct gain. It has restored the popular faith in the possible beauty of light-haired women. The condition of public opinion upon that subject has for |