ugly black forms called gentlemen, that, in painter's language, spotted the picture all over. And what was the charm that arrested alike promenaders and equestrians ? What but the lovely strains of Mozart's 'Magic Flute,' exquisitely performed by one of the household regiments? And this too, we thought, is the people's! Twice a week may they here enjoy one of the highest of all human pleasures, and benefit by one of the highest of all those influences that tend to spiritual culture-they may hear divine music, worthily rendered, and in a spot so congenial that we need only contrast it with the theatre, or with the expensive and fashionable concert-room, to see that the poorest of amateurs is not also in this matter one of the most unfortunate.

"Pursuing our walk, we reached the bridge, where a new aspect of beauty wooed us. The waters of the Serpentine were dancing, every here and there, in long trails of light; the wide stretches of green sward that encompass the river were lustrous with the new life that had been given by recent rains; the lofty forest trees seemed to dilate to an unusual magnitude their glorious bulk; white sails were gliding to and fro; while from boats with low picturesque awnings, the pleasant sound of uproarious laughter ascended at intervals. As evening drew on, bands of youths and men gathered upon the water's edge, and gradually became the sole occupants of the place, for bathing commenced. Again the thought occurred with renewed forceand these health-giving, these truly manly enjoyments can be enjoyed by all, under circumstances of beauty and fitness that the richest nobleman in the land cannot in essentials surpass."

ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, REGENT'S PARK.

"The Royal Botanic Society of London" was incorporated by a Royal Charter in 1839, for the "promotion of Botany in all its branches, and its application to Medicine, Arts, and Manufactures; and also for the formation of extensive Botanical an Ornamental Gardens within the immediate vicinity of the Metropolis." The Society consists of Fellows, who pay an admission fee of five guineas, and an annual subscription of two. There are three annual exhibitions in May, June, and July, at which prizes are given, and the gardens are crowded with visitors. The grounds in the Regent's Park, which are bounded by what is known as the Inner Circle, consist of eighteen acres, which were previously in the possession of a nurseryman, and then formed an almost level surface, the only noticeable deviation being the slight slope of the ground westward. In stepping into the grounds, now, the change is truly surprising, and we do not know where our readers could more readily obtain a practical example of what may be done in picturesque landscape gardening, on the most unpromising site. As we enter, on one of the Wednesday evenings devoted to the promenade, as it is called, a pretty rustic screen of ivy intercepts, for a moment, the view of the interior, which passed, we find ourselves on a very broad gravel walk, adorned with large vases on pedestals, and terminated by the glass Winter Garden. As we pace along this walk we have, on the right, a picturesque-looking mound rising to some considerable elevation from the midst of the irregular grounds about its base, and on the left, lawns and shrubberies, behind which the winding walks disappear into the lower grounds beyond, where occasional glimpses may be obtained of a brilliant parterre of flowers. "The mount, at least, is not artificial," we have heard visitors say; but it so happens that not only that, but another of the chief features of the gardens-the fine piece of water close by the mount, show, somewhat

amusingly, how these things may be managed. The soil dug out of the bed of the water would have been an expensive article to remove, so it was thrown up close by, and behold, the materials of the mount; then there was a difficulty as to filling the vacant hollow, and it was in serious contemplation to obtain a supply from some of the water companies, when a few heavy falls of rain settled that matter, and the lake was created.

Turning now to the right, the walk leads us beneath the shade of a magnificent tree, brushing the ground on all sides with its drooping branches; and thence onward to certain portions of the grounds laid out in gracefully-shaped patterns which, though yet but very incompletely furnished, are, rightly considered, the most important if not the most interesting departments of the place. That large piece of ground, forming a spiral, is for the reception of plants used, or useful, in medicine; and the student who begins at one end of the spiral will find the different orders are all arranged systematically, according to the improved natural system of De Candolle. Another piece of ground here is devoted to the collection of the chief agricultural plants. But the most generally attractive of the whole will be the garden of hardy plants from all parts of the world, which already contains 3000, and will receive at least 7000 more. These are also arranged according to De Candolle's system, and convey still more directly to the eye, owing to the general form of the parterre, than the other divisions mentioned, the affinities of plants with each other. Returning to the terrace, noticing by the way the taste with which a variety of objects are scattered about, as rustic vases at the intersections of walks, rustic bridges over the water, and the judgment displayed in the more important additions to the original monotonous surface, such as the sloping mounds thrown up in different parts, which now give such variety and expression to it,-we pass to the lower grounds on the opposite side of the terrace, where the irregularities become still more agreeable and decided. Every few yards the scene changes. Now we descend into a rocky dell, spanned by an arch of rocks, and with a cave, in character with the whole, at one side; then a little rude bridge takes us across a stream winding sluggishly along between its reedy banks; then, a few yards further, and we are in a kind of amphitheatre, formerly devoted to the growth of the beautiful American plants, for those requiring peat soil, the rhododendrons, kalmias, azaleas, andromedas, &c. Many other interesting floral compartments adorn this part of the grounds, among them a rosary. Here, too, is the Secretary's office, and residence, in a picturesque little building, with a richly-furnished lawn in front, and a fine shady grove, with a cast of Diana and the Hart at one side. We pass on now to the mount, with its winding walks of ascent, at the foot of which are numerous masses of interesting geological specimens. From the summit we obtain by far the finest view of the whole gardens, which from hence have really a charming effect; whilst beyond them, if we look in one direction, we have the handsome terraces of the park, backed by impenetrable masses of houses, and in another, the ever-beautiful "sisterhills" of Hampstead and Highgate.

Lastly, we proceed towards the great feature of the place-the Winter Garden. Eminently it deserves its name. As we enter the gardens by the chief gate, and pass up the central promenade, the airy structure stands before us-charmingly light and elegant. Not an inch is there of unnecessary rafter to interrupt the light; there is no wall visible above ground, the very pilasters that (we presume) form the chief supports, are faced with ground glass so as to enhance, instead of to detract from, the general effect; the doors are but glass panels, undistinguished, when shut, from the rest of the structure. The shape presented to us from this point is of a project

ing semicircle, with an elegantly-domed top surmounted by a crown; on each side of the semicircle projects a straight wing at right angles. Looking at the structure from another part, the back, it presents a series of five gables, forming a prolonged ridge and furrow roof, of which the centre is the largest. The whole covers 15,000 square feet of ground, will hold 2000 visitors, and cost nearly £7000. The height of the central part is 37 feet, its span 50 feet.

We enter and feel no words can do justice to the scene presented. It is a veritable fairy land, transplanted into the heart of London,-an actual garden of delight, realizing all our ideal. From the keen frosty air outside, and the flowerless aspect of universal nature, one steps into an atmosphere balmy and delicious, and not in the slightest degree oppressive. The most exquisite odours are wafted to and fro with every movement of the glass doors. Birds are singing in the branches. In every direction one sees all that is most stately, or graceful, or drooping in foliage, all that is finest or most richly coloured, or most glowingly superb in flowers. An aloe of magnificent growth demands your admiration at the threshold; long twiners hanging from point to point of the roof in festoons, descend in mid-air and almost touch your face in salutation; a pair of araucarias (excelsa), those aristocrats of the pine tribe, compel your allegiance on either side; while yellow acacias, camellias, rhododendrons, &c., &c., in full flower (we mean tall trees) growing in all their native luxuriance, make you again and again pause to ask, Is this winter? Is this England? In the very centre, growing in the ground (which is covered by a fine white gravel, having a charming effect of colour, cleanliness and freshness) is one of the most lovely and picturesque of palms-the dwarf palm. Beside such foliage even flowers fail. The eye must return and return to it, whithersoever it wanders. But how is it possible it can grow in such an atmosphere? Nothing can be less like a stove heat than the temperature here. The only answer that we can give is that it does grow here, and in most perfect health and beauty, although the thermometer has occasionally given the alarming indication-three degrees below frost!

This is emphatically a garden-not a beautiful house for plants merely. All the formality of the walk round the great bed of earth in which the plants grow at the Horticultural Gardens, or round the iron floor on which the plants rest in pots at Kew, is here done away with. The plants really form a garden, in and among which you walk. The chief ones are growing in the actual soil, though the white gravel comes close to every stem and covers up all beneath. A scarlet geranium treated in this way has reached some seven or eight feet up a pillar, and is nearly all the year round in flower. Elegant little iron tables are scattered every here and there, filled with little floral gems in the way of hyacinths, narcissi, &c., &c.; and beside each table a chair invites you to sit down and enjoy them.

The Society has lately taken stock of its treasures, and the result is very satisfactory, considering how few years it yet numbers-nearly 3000 species of hardy herbaceous plants, nearly 1300 hardy trees and shrubs, and 1800 species and varieties in the glass houses; and all these numbers are daily increasing.

THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS, REGENT'S PARK.

If one were desired to name the most delightful lounge in the metropolis, difficult as the task of selection might seem to be amidst so many attractive spots, the Zoological Gardens in the Regent's Park must, we think, be the chosen place. Equally suited to the young and the old, the solitary and the gregarious, the cheerful and the melancholy, the ignorant and the learned, all are here sure of enjoyment,

at least, and it will be strange, indeed, if instruction, in some shape or other, does not follow. But the beautiful place has its own proper inhabitants. Of the number and variety of these inhabitants, there really seems no end. A visitor who, after spending some hours here, sauntering hither and thither, just as curiosity or impulse guided, should discover a good half of the collection, would deserve every praise for his industry and tact. Still more surprising, rightly considered, than even the number and variety of the families that compose this strangest of villages, are the differences as to the quarters of the globe whence they have respectively come. Listen but to the characteristic sounds that rise from time to time: the low growl of the bears from the eternal snows of the polar regions; the hoarse screams and piercing cries of the tropical birds, whose plumage speaks them the children of the sun; the magnificent roar of the lion: in short, the whole world has been ransacked to people these few acres of soil, where the magic of skill and enterprise has overcome all difficulties-reconciled conflicting seasons, and tempers, and habits-formed, from the most heterogeneous of materials, one of the most thriving, and orderly of communities.

A broad terrace walk extends from the little rustic lodges at the entrance, in a straight line onwards, bordered by flowers, shrubs, and trees on each side, and which is now continued at the same level for some distance, over the lower ground, by a handsome viaduct, which covers a long range of roomy cages beneath, and forms the most striking feature of the gardens. Here the carnivorous animals, the lions, tigers, leopards, &c., are located; and it is found that by having a large space for exercise and for the admission of fresh air, set apart for each animal, with a small sleeping place behind, artificial warmth may be dispensed with, to the advantage of the animals' health. Branching to the right of the terrace-walk, immediately on our entering, we find a winding path among lofty bushes and trees, presently opening on our left, and presenting a fine view over the park, in the foreground of which are grazing various novel-looking inhabitants for an English pasture-ground; and continuing along the same path, on our right, appears the New Aviary, an actual bird palace, with an architectural façade. Here we have the bird cottages at the back, with doors and windows, then a promenade under glass, outside the cottages, and beyond that again, the open garden of the aviary, with its trees and fish-ponds. Returning to the terrace we find, at the point of junction of the terrace walk and the carnivora terrace on the right, in a deep square pit, those amusing climbers, the cinnamon and brown bears. Their prenomen is derived from their handsome brown coats, in which, as well as in locality and in greater ferocity in their natural state, they differ from the American black bears, of which species they are considered to be a variety: specimens of the latter are also to be found in the gardens.

Descending by a circuitous path on the left of the terrace, commanding a charming little bit of scenery, with a lawn and pond in the foreground at the bottom, we find a large octagonal cage, occupied by the king vulture. In summer the macaws are also to be found about this spot, most splendid in their red and yellow-and red and blue plumage; and who, by their most un-bird-like tumult, seem desirous to show that there is some truth in the philosopher's idea of a kind of compensating principle in nature. The path, now running between the macaws' cage and the llama-house opposite, conducts us to the lawn, rich with purple beech, and with its sparkling little piece of water, dotted over with aquatic birds-among which black swans and eider ducks are conspicuous-and with little raised nests or boxes. In the centre a fountain

"Shakes its loosening silver in the sun."

A beautiful and very familiar species of Coreopsis geese, from New Holland, deservedly attract much attention. They are numerous, and have been all bred from a single pair. These might be naturalised in our farm-yards, and their flesh is said, by some travellers, to be more delicate than that of the English bird. A wonderfully interesting collection of birds occupies the cages on the right of this piece of water: crowned cranes; blue crowned pigeons; enormous cassowaries, with beaks like helmets, which extend backwards right over their heads; storks, standing on one leg, each on its own granite pedestal, in solitary and most sculpturesque repose and dignity, &c. The pelicans have a rock home or grotto of their own, with courtyard and pond in front, entirely covered by a magnificent tree, forming a perfectly horizontal canopy. Here they seem to grow fatter and fatter every day; already their cream-coloured bodies are so puffed up that the long beaks cannot but repose upon the breast beneath. Whistling ducks, sheldrakes, and garganey teal, are here also to be found. Close by are the ostriches and emus. These last are among the wonders of the animal creation-creatures with wings that cannot fly, birds with the habits and strength of limb of quadrupeds.

We turn to the Carnivora Terrace, where we pass in succession the most powerful and ferocious of the wild beasts of our globe. The first cage contains pumas or panthers, often called lions. Next are black leopards-then more pumas-black bears-and spotted leopards. Isabella bears succeed; then the striped and spotted hyænas from Africa.

Turning the corner at the end of the terrace, we find on the opposite side the more magnificent of the carnivora. First comes the royal Bengal tiger; than which it is impossible to imagine a living organism combining at once more beauty, and strength, and ferocity. In striking contrast are the three lions in the next cage, all reposing in the most supreme dignity of form and character. The chetah, or hunting leopard, in another cage, must arrest every one's attention by the contrast between its long and high body, and absurdly small head. Tigresses, lions and lionesses together, jaguars, follow in due succession.

At some distance beyond the termination of the viaduct, and in the same line, a piece of water attracts attention, even more by its own beauty than by the variety of its aquatic inhabitants. Small but luxuriantly-wooded islands are scattered about the centre, the banks are thickly fringed with reeds, and bordered by elegantiyflowering shrubs, suitable to the kind of scenery indicated; and altogether it is impossible to imagine a much happier existence than these waddling, and swimming, and diving rogues here enjoy-these Brent, and Canadian, and Chinese, and Egyptian, and laughing geese-these tufted, and crossbred pintail, and penguin ducks-these teal, and shovellers, and pochards. In his way, too, the polar bear, in the neighbourhood of the pond, is luxuriantly lodged; he has got his comfortable den, and his pool of water, where he may swim about, and fancy he is once more breasting the seas of the polar regions, swimming his thirty or forty miles at a time, as they have been seen in Barrow's Straits. The monkey-poles, close by, are unoccupied, except in a few summer months. The condor's cage is near. That great pile of rock-work, almost big enough for a human habitation, covered with foliage, and surrounded by its own little but deep lake of water, is the otter's home. This is one of the great centres of attraction in the gardens at the animal's dinner-time, when live fish are thrown into the water, which he catches with astonishing skill and rapidity.

We have now reached a kind of central spot of the portion of the gardens, that lies on this side of the park-road, and a charming little place it is, with walks branching off in different directions, each between its own high, green and blooming banks,