will suffer it. The palace of "the beautiful fountain," as all the world should know, is the favorite summer residence of the Emperor, when he is compelled to remain through the heats in the neighborhood of his capital. Its beautiful French gardens, with their tall forest-trees trimmed like gigantic hedge-rows, and their sylvan alleys converging from the surrounding woods on turf, flower-beds, and fountains flowing into basins of marble, are the private property of the Emperor, and consequently perpetually open to his family the People. It was an event absolutely unprecedented when the gates were shut and jealously guarded on occasion of the fête and fireworks given to the Czar. You should go to Schönbrunn by tramway-car, if you mean to do your day with the people thoroughly. These tramways are laid along all the leading thoroughfares, although they often carry you from point to point by the most circuitous routes. But as yet the citizens have not learned to appreciate the value of time, although, with all their newborn extravagance, they remain alive to the value of money, down to the very smallest coins. In their penny wisdom, in place of establishing a swift service of hansomes to cover the great flat distances, all of them use these tramcarriages, that move at a snail's pace and are stopping continually. Going to Schönbrunn of a fine afternoon, you may wait for an hour at one of the halting-stations, before you find a packing-place in the cars that are passing you every five minutes. A seat, of course, you need not look for: the seats have all been filled long beforehand. A board marked "complet," is a part of the equipment, but it is never displayed by any chance-the Viennese being mutually accommodating to weakness, and never evincing any repugnance to suffocation or strangulation. Indeed, if we invite the reader to accompany us on the tedious journey in one of these overcrowded carriages, it is because they bring out in such broad relief this good-humored good-nature- the gutmüthigkeit of the Austrians. If you see a perspiring mortal, flushed in the face and flashing in the eye, protest against a corpulent individual settling calmly on his toes, or a vigorous washerwoman hoisting herself and her basket into the car by help of the purchase she has established on his coat-collar, be sure that that grumbler is a foreigner. A

colonel covered with decorations will pack himself in his light uniform side by side with a chimney-sweep; and a lady in the crispest and cleanest of muslins will submit herself smilingly to the roughest process of mangling. You reach the end of your journey at last, and find yourself at Schönbrunn, where all is smiling in the sunshine. Aristocratic carriages are setting down at the gates in the midst of an unbroken string of the decent bourgeoisie and the working classes. A mixed multitude of all classes goes winding along the steep zigzag paths that lead up to the "Gloriette," whence you command the most glorious of views over the Marchfeld and the wooded crests of the Wienerwald, the Austrian Alps, and the distant Carpathians. There is a dense crowd swaying about before the dens and cages in the zoological collection; every bench and seat is covered as thickly as a shelf on the cliffs in a breeding place of sea-fowl. But you seldom hear a coarse or ill-natured word, and you never see a drunken man. The light beer does not intoxicate-nor does it stupefy either, if you may judge by the general brightness and merriment.

But good-humored as the crowd is, a little of it goes a long way with an Englishman. You think it time to adjourn for dinner at Dommayer's. Now Dommayer is almost as much of an institution as the domkirche or Cathedral Church of St. Stephen's. He has "restored" the Viennese for generations; and no doubt the officers. of the French armies of occupation may often have requisitioned his predecessors in the days when the Hapsburgs had to vacate their palace in favor of the Buonapartes. A quantity of little tables are scattered under shady trees before the verandah of the great dining-room. A band is playing under a kiosque, and you may have to wait for long before you find accommodation. You may amuse yourself in the mean time by singling out the personages from the undistinguished crowd; very possibly it may be your luck to see the Premier, whom no one else seems to be staring at; and there have been rumors, indeed, that the most volatile of the very respectable Archdukes has dined there in mufti, in friendly tête-à-tête with his aide-de camp. Fancy Mr. Gladstone taking a quiet cutlet at Cremorne, or even dropping in for dinner at the St. James's Hall! We shall suppose you seated at last; the next

thing is to lay hold of a waiter. The Austrian waiter is always the most independent of mortals; the waiterlets of the new school are the most objectionable of selfassuming little snobs; and it may be supposed that Dommayer's boys are so used to good company that they have learned to be no respecters of persons. But if you make your advances to them with respect or cordiality, they treat you in their turn good-naturedly enough, and are even willing to jest with you in their moments of leisure. After having waited long, when you least expect it, they fling you down a clean table-cloth, and cast some cutlery and plates at random on the top of it. The head waiter himself may do you the honor of polishing your crystal salt-cellar on his cuff, or smoothing down its contents with his dingy thumb; it would be churlish to cavil at the action, for it is as much meant in goodwill as when a Bedouin plunges his fist in the dish, and passes you a handful of rice and mutton. You have a most excellent and solid dinner served spasmodically soup, and an awful pause: then an armful of hors d'œuvres, trout and sauce tartare; boiled beef and cucumbers, roast beef, potatoes, cherries, peas, currants, beans, cauliflower, all in the smallest proportions; entrées in heavy sauces, asparagus, chicken, salad, and so on, to the mehlspeisen or puddings, the cheese, the celery, and the dessert. Meanwhile Madame the Princess of Presburg and her high-born daughters may be sipping ice or coffee on one side of you, while the cobbler to Madame's domestics is having beer, brown bread, and sausages on the other, in the bosom of his family; and young Schwartzfeld, the Jewish broker from the Schottenring, is making the corks of the frothing œil de perdrix fly in front of you. Schwartzfeld would scarcely have dared to have drawn noisy champagne corks under the eye of the Princesses a few years ago. He might have taken his seat where he is, but he would have sipped his beer or his Karlowitzer like other people, and talked quietly, if not sensibly. Now the Schwartzfeld element makes itself conspicuous in all places. This season, when a world of strangers who knew nothing of the old landmarks of society had come to stare at them, the upstarts would peacock about in all their glory, and fool themselves to the top of their vain-glorious bent. Heaven knows whither this lavish ostenta

tion might have hurried them, had it not been for the panic and collapse of credit, which sent a shudder through the newly enriched plutocracy, while many of them crumpled up like the leaves of a sensitive plant. As it was, it was they who had been running up prices, and had made it possible for their fellow-citizens who live upon foreigners, to attempt the extortions they did. So long as credit was good, and building and financing operations went briskly forward, it was their pride and pleasure to pay their way where their betters in all but wealth did not venture to follow them. They moved into handsome mansions in the Ring, when gentlemen who had not joined in their speculation had to leave their palaces and retire to apartments to economise. It is them we have to thank for carriages at thirty florins a-day, opera stalls on gala nights at half as much again, shirts go up at a florin and a half, and all the madly exorbitant prices the hotel-keepers and restaurateurs demanded in Exhibi tion-time. They made it the fashion to feed at the places opened in the Exhibitiongrounds and elsewhere, with the idea of victimising those strangers who were' so slow to come. At first the French, Russian, and cosmopolitan restaurants generally, with their fancy tariffs, were filled chiefly by them, and the fools of real fashion who were ashamed to be outdone in a question of expenditure. It was they who kept up " additions" that must have otherwise been reduced to more reasonable proportions; who paid a florin for a teaspoonful of the caviare that Dommayer threw into his ordinary dinner, and three times as much for a saucerful of crayfish ; who encouraged establishments where the admirable native wines of Austria and Hungary were tabooed in favor of sour ordinaire from the Gironde, that sold at seven shillings a bottle.

One speaks feelingly, for these open-air dinners were among the most agreeable things in Vienna, on the rare occasions when you had a pleasant evening after a sultry day. How different they were from the noonday scramble at some such bourgeois eating-house as the Rother Igel, the "Joe's" or "Reuben's" of the ( even from the better-served and admirably cooked meal at one of the hermetically sealed restaurants attached to the old hotels! Before the Trois Frères Provençaux you seated yourself under the waving

boughs in the Prater, and handled your knife and fork to the distant strains of delightful music. At Sacker's, on the Constantine Hugel, you might secure yourself a bower amidst masses of scented creepers, and look from your eminence over the trees and the housetops to the convents and the churches that crown the Kahlenburg and Leopoldsburg. And whatever one may say of Vienna itself, there can be but one opinion as to its environs. Pity that they should be so near and yet so hard to come at: the attractions of the city will be multiplied many times, when there are central stations in the town, connected by lines of underground railway. Schönbrunn we have visited already. At Dornbach, which is scarcely more distant, streets of villas and summer cottages embosomed in trees stretch up into the most deliciously sequestered valley, where a brook comes rippling down from the hills, among cliffs and trees and landlocked meadows. We have heard enough of the palace and park of Laxenbourg, during the sojourn of his gracious majesty the Shah. Nothing can be more romantic than the Brühl, with its black fir-trees on its perpendicular rocks, the portals that usher you into the semicular sweep of its pine-covered hills,-except, perhaps, that next valley of Baden, where you might fancy yourself transported to its namesake of the Black Forest, for the scenery is just as wild in its character; while, except of a Sunday or a fête day, the paths in the neighborhood are far more deserted.

The busy Vienna lying so near to those forest solitudes, yet in the mean time separated from them so distinctly, suggests precisely the present state of its society. Those solitary environs of the city will become its suburbs in a few years, as the citizens betake themselves to a less sedentary life, learn the value of their time, and improve their very imperfect communications. Society will be modernised, and will settle down into the counterpart of what we have known for long in Paris, in London, and even in Berlin. Everything is still shifting and changing, although the changes had been going forward fast, before the crash of credit arrested them for a moment. You may still see the Kaiser, his court, his staff, and the municipal authorities, moving solemnly through the streets from station to station in devout adoration of the Corpus Christi, while the shops everywhere are religiously closed, and the gambling on the Bourse is brought to a sudden standstill. You may still see great bands of pilgrims chanting their hymns in the streets of the suburbs, although it may be said that that perhaps is a thing of the future as much as of the past. You may still see the old ideas and habits being smoothed and polished into conventionalities, by constant contact with new and aggressive ones. But with the single exception of the capital of the Mikado, no city is being more rapidly revolutionised; and if one desires to observe an interesting process, there is no time at all to be lost.-Blackwood's Magazine.

IN no instance has the truth of the French proverb "Le mieux est l'ennemi du bien" been more clearly shown than in the case of modern Japan and China. The progress made of late years by the people of the former country has been so rapid and astounding that the more modest advances made by their neighbors have appeared too insignificant for notice. With their national power of acquisitiveness the Japanese have without hesitation imported wholesale all the knowledge and science of the West with as much ease as though they were ordering

a consignment of shirtings. They have founded universities and established schools, where foreign professors of every branch of European learning deliver lectures to young gentlemen in black cloth coats and patent leather boots. They have constructed railways and introduced telegraphs, and have gone to a vast expense to obtain an accurate geological survey of their country. For these and all their other efforts to Europeanise Japan they are looked upon as the pioneers of civilisation in the East. They are held up as models of what intelligent Easterns

should be, and any doubt thrown on the stability of the movement is laughed to scorn. And certainly, if other Oriental States are to be judged by the standard of rapid progress thus set up, the Chinese, when put into the balance, cannot but be found wanting. Perhaps one reason why they have not rushed with such headlong speed into the scientific market of the West is that they have less need of foreign instruction than the Japanese, their scientific knowlege, such as it is, being more advanced than that possessed by their neighbors. Some allowance must doubtless be made for their deeply-rooted oldfashioned prejudice in favor of walking in the paths which their forefathers have trod. It is, moreover, always more difficult to set a large body in motion than a small one; and even if the Chinese were as impressionable as the people of the "land of the rising sun," the effect of a movement among them would, for a long time, be less observable than would be the case in the latter country.

But though when we turn to China we cannot point to any such surprising results as those which have transformed Yedo and Yokohama into the similitude of European cities, it would be a mistake to suppose that Western science has not of late years been making its way slowly and perhaps all the more surely because slowly among the 400,000,000 inhabitants of the "middle kingdom." It is true that they have neither adopted railways nor established telegraphs. They have not founded colleges, except one in the capital, neither have European professors met with any demand for their services outside the walls of Peking. But many of the most thoughtful men of the Empire have been carefully comparing the state of scientific knowledge in China with that existing in Western lands; and intellectually proud though they be, they have eagerly set themselves to work to make up for the time which they have lost during the many centuries of stagnation which, until the foundation of the present dynasty, overshadowed the land. It is no exaggeration to say that at the close of the Ming Dynasty (1644) Chinese science was at a lower ebb than it was 2000 years before that date. From whence the ancient Chinese acquired their learning it is difficult to say, but there can be no doubt but that certain sciences were more

studied and better understood by Chinese scholars in the time of King David than at any subsequent period prior to the accession of the Tatar Emperors.

On these and kindred subjects the histories of China reveal origins so ancient as to dwarf into insignificance the greatest antiquity of which western Europe can boast. If we trace, for instance, the history of the science of numbers, as known to the Chinese, we are carried back nearly 4000 years, to the time of the Emperor Hwang-ti, who, we are told, instructed his minister to form "nine arithmetical sections" under the following headings: 1. Plane mensuration; 2. Proportion; 3. Fellowship; 4. Evolution; 5. Solid mensuration; 6. Alligation; 7. Surplus and Deficiency; 8. Equation; and 9. Trigonometry. To the same Emperor is attributed the formation of the sexagenary cycle, and this belief derives some confirmation from the fact that the present chronological era of cycles dates its commencement from the sixty-first year of his reign. In the "Book of History" mention is make of the existence, in the time of the Emperor Yao (B.C. 2300), of an astronomical board, the members of which were employed in watching the motions of the heavenly bodies, in marking the solstices and equinoxes, and in forming the Imperial Calendar. Later, again, in the Chow-pi, a work on trigonometry (B.C. 1100), we trace a great advance in the knowledge of mathematical principles, as may be seen from the following translation of the first section, which may be said to contain an epitome of the whole work, taken from "The Chinese and Japanese Repository" of April 1864 :-" I, formerly Chow-kung, addressing Shang-kaon, said, 'I have heard it said, my lord, that you are famous at numbers; may I venture to ask how the ancient Fo-hi estab lished the degrees of the celestial sphere? There are no steps by which one may ascend the heavens, and it is impracticable to take a rule and measure the extent of the earth; I wish to ask, then, how he ascertained these numbers ?' Shang-kaon replied, 'The art of numbering originates in the circle and quadrangle. The circle is derived from the quadrangle. The quadrangle originates in the right angle. The right angle originates in the multiplication of the nine digits. Hence separating a right angle into its component parts,

if the base be equal to 3, and the altitude to 4, a line connecting the farther extremities will be 5. Square the external dimension, and half the amount will give the area of the triangle. Add together all the sides, and the result will equal the sum of 3, 4, and 5. The square of the hypothenuse being 25, is equal to the squares of the two short sides of the triangle. Thus, the means by which Yu restored order throughout the empire, was by following out the principles of these numbers. Chow-kung exlaimed, 'How truly great is the theory of numbers! May I ask what is the principle of the use of the rectangle?' Shang-kaon replied, "The plane rectangle is formed by uninclined straight lines. The direct rectangle is used for observing heights. The reversed rectangle is used for fathoming depths. The flat rectangle is used for ascertaining distance. By the revolution of the rectangle, the circle is formed. By the junction of rectangles, the square is formed .... The numbers of the square being the standard, the dimensions of the circle are deduced from the square. . . . This knowledge begins with the straight line, the straight line is a component part of the rectangle, and the numbers of the rectangle are applicable to the construction of all things.' Chow-kung exclaimed, 'Excellent indeed!'"

And we may well echo the exclamation. But unfortunately this promise of great scientific results was doomed, during many succeeding ages, to be obscured. Evil days overtook the lovers of literature and science. Their books were burnt, many of their number were put to death, and the remainder,

"Neglected and oppress'd, Wished to be with them and at rest."

In succeeding ages there were partial revivals in scientific research, and during the Yuen Dynasty (A.D. 1280-1368), an algebraic system, possibly derived from the Arab traders who at that time began to visit China, was introduced by a native writer in a work entitled, "The Mirror of the Mensuration of Circles." But with the accession of the Ming Emperors (A.D. 1368) darkness again covered the land, and so completely during the following two hundred years were the works of the earlier native scholars forgotten, that when the Jesuit missionaries laid bare their stores

of European science at the court of their patron Kang-hi, the message sounded in the ears of their hearers not only as an improvement on the native methods of computation and system of astronomy, but as something quite new and startling. The road to honor and advancement thus thrown open to the missionaries was eagerly trodden by them. The Astronomical Board was placed under their direction, and the young Emperor, himself a youth of learning and scientific attainments, treated them with marked consideration and favor. The stimulus, however, thus given to the study of the science of numbers led to the reproduction of the native works of which we have been speaking, and others of a similar kind; and though it was universally acknowledged that the missionaries had supplied much that was wanting in the native scientific systems, they from that time ceased to hold the pre-eminently high position they had formerly occupied. Latterly, the spirit of scientific enquiry has become very general throughout the empire, and the Jesuits have found worthy successors in the native authors, who have enriched the literature of their country with many learned and valuable works on astronomy and mathematics. Quite recently, also, translations of several European works on these subjects, notably Mr. Wylie's edition of De Morgan's "Treatise on Algebra," Loomis' " Elements of Analytical Geometry, and of the Differential and Integral Calculus," Herschel's "Outlines of Astronomy," as well as several original works on mathematics, have been published in China, the joint work of foreigners and natives, and have met with much favor and support from the literary classes. New editions of several of these works have been brought out by wealthy natives, among whom Euclid is now almost as much studied as among ourselves.

As was the case with the Egyptians of old, the scientific knowledge, properly so called, of the Chinese is confined almost entirely to arithmetic and geometry. Of geology, mineralogy, pneumatics, electricity and chemistry, they know nothing. In antiquity the medical art vies with the knowledge of numbers; but it has been from the beginning, and is now, an art and not a science. The voluminous native works on medicine which are to be found in almost every bookseller's shop through