From Longman's Magazine. THE LIONS IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE.1 BY RICHARD JEFFERIES.

passed along I inwardly bade farewell to the whining wilds, to Mickly bank, and to the Stob-Cross hill." Then he settles down to the assiduous, laborious THE lions in Trafalgar Square are to life. Bewick himself enumerates the me the centre of London. By those works he was employed upon. Pipe- lions began my London work; from moulds, bottle - moulds, brass clock- them, as spokes from the middle of a faces, coffin-plates, stamps, seals, bill- wheel, radiate my London thoughts. heads and cyphers, and crests for Standing by them and looking south silversmiths. In the Newcastle Museum are some of the shop-signs and stamps designed by him, advertisements of millinery, of "Bird's fashionable drapery," engraved as on an ornament to head the bill, just as doctors silver the pill which they pre

scribe.

Bewick once came away to London, whither his fame had preceded him, and where friends and abundant orders for work were in waiting. For a few months he paced the Strand and its adjacent streets on his way to and from his work; he spent his evenings in Brook Street, where instead of asking for bread and milk he "now learnt to

you have in front the Houses of Parliament, where resides the mastership of England; at your back is the National Gallery, that is art, and farther back the British Museum, books. To the right lies the wealth and luxury of the West End; to the left the roar and labor, the craft and gold, of the City. For themselves they are the only monument in this vast capital worthy of a second visit as a monument. Over the entire area covered by the metropolis there does not exist another work of art in the open air. There are many structures and things, no other art. The outlines of the great animals, the bold curves and firm touches of the master hand, the deep indents, as it were, of his thumb on the plastic metal, all the technique and grasp written

comes the pose and expression of the whole, the calm strength in repose, the indifference to little things, the resolute view of great ones. Lastly, the soul of the maker, the spirit which was taken

call for a pint of porter; "elsewhere he describes his first draught of brandy and water. He frequented Westminster Abbey, but he said that nothing there, is legible at a glance. Then he found in London could ever compensate for the absence of peace, of natural space, and old associations, and that he had rather herd sheep at five shillings a week than earn guineas and fame in this world of from nature, abides in the massive extremes. "The country of my old friends, the manners of the people of that day, the scenery of Tyneside, seemed altogether to form a paradise for me, and I longed to see it again." So he went back to his own home and his own people, and spent the remainder of his honorable faithful life among them.

Some people live their own lives quietly and with conscience, and by so doing add incalculably to the happiness of the whole world around them. Bewick is one of these people, nor after all does he need any conjurer to point out his merits and charming genius.

bronze. These lines are finer than
those that crouch in the cages at the
Zoological Gardens; these are truer
and more real, and, besides, these are
lions to whom has been added the
heart of a man. Nothing disfigures
them; smoke and, what is much worse,
black rain-rain which washes the
atmosphere of the suspended mud-
does not affect them in the least.
the choke-damp of fog obscures them,
it leaves no stain on the design; if the
surfaces be stained, the idea made tan-
gible in metal is not. They are no
more touched than Time itself by the
alternations of the seasons. The only
noble open-air work of native art in the

If

1 This, I fear, is the last paper that will appear in this magazine by Richard Jefferies.- ED.

four-million city, they rest there su-dust in the process. Yellow omnipreme and are the centre. Did such a buses and red cabs, dark, shining carwork exist now in Venice, what im- riages, chestnut horses, all rushing, and mense folios would be issued about by their motion mixing their colors so it ! All the language of the studios that the commonness of it disappears would be huddled together in piled-up and the hues remain, a streak drawn in and running-over laudation, and curses the groove of the street- dashed hason our insular swine-eyes that could tily with thick camel's hair. In the not see it. I have not been to Venice, midst the calm lions, dusky, unmoved, therefore I do not pretend to a knowl- full always of the one grand idea that edge of that medieval potsherd; this was infused into them. So full of it I do know, that in all the endless pic- that the golden sun and the bright wall tures on the walls of the galleries in of the eastern houses, the shade that London, year after year exposed and is slipping towards them, the sweet disappearing like snow somewhere un- swallows and the azure sky, all the seen, never has there appeared one human stream holds of wealth and with such a subject as this. Weak, power and coroneted panels - nature, feeble, mosaic, gimcrack, colored tiles, and far-fetched compound monsters, artificial as the graining on a deal front door, they cannot be compared; it is the gingerbread gilt on a circus car to the column of a Greek temple. This is pure open air, grand as nature herself, because it is nature with, as I say, the heart of a man added.

man, and city-pass as naught. Mind is stronger than matter. The soul alone stands when the sun sinks, when the shade is universal night, when the vans' wheels are silent and the dust rises no more.

At summer noontide when the day surrounds us and it is bright light even in the shadow, I like to stand by one of the lions and yield to the old feeling. The sunshine glows on the dusky creature, as it seems, not on the surface, but under the skin, as if it came up from

wheels sinks and becomes distant as the sound of a waterfall when dreams are coming. All the abundant human life is smoothed and levelled, the abruptness of the individuals lost in

But if any one desire the meretricious painting of warm light and cool yet not hard shade, the effect of color, with the twitching of triangles, the spangles glittering, and all the arrange-out of the limb. The roar of the rolling ment contrived to take the eye, then he can have it here as well as noble sculpture. Ascend the steps to the National Gallery, and stand looking over the balustrade down across the square in summer hours. Let the sun have the flowing current, like separate flowers sloped enough to throw a slant of shadow outward; let the fountains splash whose bubbles restless speak of rest and leisure, idle and dreamy; let the blue-tinted pigeons nod their heads walking, and anon crowd through the air to the roof-tops. Shadow upon the one side, bright light upon the other, azure above and swallows. Ever rolling the human stream flows, mostly on the south side yonder, near enough to be audible, but toned to bearableness. A stream of human hearts, every atom a living mind, filled with what thoughts? —a stream that ran through Rome once but has altered its course and wears away the banks here now and triturates its own atoms, the hearts, to

drawn along in a border, like music
heard so far off that the notes are
molten and the theme only remains.
The abyss of the sky over and the an-
cient sun are near. They only are
close at hand, they and immortal
thought. When the yellow Syrian lions
stood in old time of Egypt, then, too,
the sunlight gleamed on the eyes of
men, as now this hour on mine. The
same consciousness of light, the same
sun, but the eyes that saw it and mine,
how far apart! The immense lion here
beside me expresses larger nature
cosmos - the ever-existent
which sustains the world. Massiveness
exalts the mind till the vast roads of
space which the sun tramples are as

thought

an arm's length. Such a moment can- [ at one period every village at the north not endure long; gradually the roar had its steeping-pit. There were two deepens, the current resolves into in- or three ferns-viz., Hymenophyllum dividuals, the houses return, it is only sanguinolentum, a very strong-smelling a square.

species, hence, too, its specific name; dried specimens not only retain their powerful odor, but impart it to the drying papers; Polypodium pustulatum, having an agreeable delicate scent; and Doodia fragrans, a neat little species; this last was so far esteemed as sometimes to give name to the locality where it grew, as Puke mokimoki, the little isolated hill which once stood where the Recreation Ground now is in Napier, that hill having been levelled to fill in the deep middle swamp in Monroe

But a square potent. For London is the only real place in the world. The cities turn towards London as young partridges run to their mother. The cities know that they are not real. They are only houses and wharves, and bricks and stucco; only outside. The minds of all men in them, merchants, artists, thinkers, are bent on London. Thither they go as soon as they can. San Francisco thinks London; so does St. Petersburg. Men amuse themselves in Paris; they work in London. Gold Street. One of the Pittosporum trees, is made abroad, but London has a hook and line on every napoleon and dollar, pulling the round discs hither. A house is not a dwelling if a man's heart be elsewhere. Now the heart of the world is in London, and the cities with the simulacrum of man in them are empty. They are moving images only; stand here and you are real.

tawhiri (P. tenuifolium), also yielded a fragrant gum; but the choicest and the rarest was obtained from the peculiar plant taramea (Aciphylla Colensoi), which inhabits the Alpine zone, and which I have only met with near the summits of the Ruahine mountain range, where it is very common and very troublesome to the traveller that way. The gum of this plant was only collected through much labor, toil, and difficulty, accompanied, too, with certain ceremonial (taboo) observances. THE SMELLING-SENSE AND TASTE OF THE An old tohunga (skilled man, and priest)

ANCIENT MAORIS.

From Nature.

I HAVE already more than once touched on the superior powers of sight of the ancient Maoris; and it has often occurred to my mind that they also possessed a very keenly developed sense of smell, which was largely and quickly shown whenever anything sweetly odoriferous, however fine and subtle, had been used as eau de Cologne, essence of lavender, etc. Indeed, this sense was the more clearly exhibited in the use of their own native perfumes, all highly odorous and collected with labor. Yet this sensitive organization always appeared to be the more strange when the horribly stinking smells of two of their common articles of food -- often, in the olden times, in daily use are considered; rotten corn (maize, dry and hard, in the cob) long steeped in water to soften it, and dried shark. The former, however, has long been abandoned; yet

once informed me that the taramea gum could only be got by very young women

virgins, and by them only after certain prayers, charms, etc., duly said by the tohunga. There is a sweet little nursery song of endearment, expressive of much love, containing the names of all four of their perfumes, which I have not unfrequently heard affectionately and soothingly sung by a Maori mother to her child while nursing and fondling it:

Taku hei piripiri,
Taku hei mokimoki,
Taku hei tawhiri,
Taku kati-taramea.

My little neck-satchel of sweet-scented
moss,

My little neck-satchel of fragrant fern,
My little neck-satchel of odoriferous gum,
My sweet-smelling neck-locket of sharp-
pointed taramea.

W. COLENSO.

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I STAND in the hush of the hastening river, A SAVAGE, in a bleak world, on a waste, Under willows that quiver from grey to

And yet, sometimes, as I watch the river
I wonder if life could give something more,
For at whiles I weary of shade and sunlight, Of Nature's general offspring well he
Of all the changes of star and moonlight,
Of the ripples breaking against the shore.

And his wonderful eyes shone clear and still, And, friend! the self-same passion in his

And he beckoned me on where the lilies One form of grace, most touchingly ex

Which separates this day from that; the The daisy buds are all uncurled,