awaits orders to start, the ex-patients are | struction of St. Peter's, have no doubt a afforded an opportunity to return thanks great weight in favor of Baron Geyfor all that has been done for them. This müller's opinion. The difficult problem, they accomplish with right good-will by giving three cheers for doctors, nurses, attendants, and even for the much-abused, and not always infallible, Asylums Board, to which the inmates of the Darenth Camp, at any rate, have good reason to be grateful. The omnibus then journeys across country some five miles to Long Reach, where a special steamer is in readiness to convey them up river to the wharf in London, whence they go their several ways. From The Academy. RAPHAEL AS AN ARCHITECT. THE fourth centenary of Raphael's birth has furnished the occasion for some new editions of lives of the great artist, and also for a few treatises on special subjects| referring to him. Among the latter perhaps none has so just a claim to be wel. comed, not only by the art-student, but also by the public at large, as Baron Geymüller's splendid publication on Raphael as an architect. We may safely say that here for the first time the subject bas been treated by a competent writer, who by various similar publications on Italian Renaissance architecture, in French, German, and English, has made himself widely known as an authority on the subject. Passavant and other biographers of our times were content to look on Raphael as the great painter, paying but scant attention to his achievements as an architect. In the opinion of Baron Geymüller the genius of Raphael was, during the last years of his life, much more concerned with architectural problems than with his engagements as a painter; so much so indeed, that if his life had been prolonged he would probably have given up painting altogether, just as Bramante had done, in order to concentrate his creative powers entirely on those architectural works which he had undertaken. When Bramante, the originator of the new Church of St. Peter's at Rome, died in 1514, Raphael became his successor as chief architect of the building. The pope's brief on his appointment states that it is due not only to the express wish of Bramante, but also to the model which had been produced by Raphael for the completion of the work. Facts like this, especially when placed in the light of minor circumstances connected with the con also, of Raphael's education as an architect appears to be satisfactorily solved in the early chapters of this book, which is richly illustrated by eight plates in heliogravure executed by Dujardin, and by excellent woodcuts reproducing original drawings of Raphael, or from the hand of other great architects working under his directions, and also by some views of buildings reconstructed from fragmentary materials. The greatest interest attaches, of course, to the chapters in which Raphael's works as an architect at Rome are discussed the Villa Farnesina, with its stables and loggia, hitherto considered to be the work of Baldassare Peruzzi; the Capella Chigi, in the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo; the Church of St. Peter; the palace of the Vatican; the several private palaces at Rome and at Florence; and the Villa Madama, with its extensive gardens. The drawings referring to the latter work, one of the most enchanting productions of the Renaissance, are especially valuable, as the writer has succeeded in identifying many hitherto unknown or misnamed sketches, which have enabled him to reconstruct the building and to depict the arrangement of the pleasure-grounds. The high opinion which he entertains of this "most sublime creation" will certainly find an echo in many of his readers. J. P. RICHTER. From St. James's Gazette. GAMBLING ON ATLANTIC BOATS. THE question of gambling and betting on board Atlantic steamers, though it has recently come into notice again, is no new thing. The following is my experience of a few years ago on one of the leading lines: About the second day out of Queenstown, I was beginning to get over seasickness, and boldly sought out the "smoking-room." I was rather disapappointed with the place when I found it. It consisted of a few benches placed round the sides of the enclosure over the entrance to the hold - whatever may be the seafaring name for it and formed a by no means luxurious divan. Very probably it was the only place at liberty in the ship. In this den a lamp, like that at most of them were Americans by birth, and some of them were no doubt only travelling for what they could pick up on the way. Betting was by no means confined to the ship's run. They betted on everything from morning to night; until, as we neared New York, a large number of victims were "cleaned out," and the "smoking saloon" got less crowded. I remember one unfortunate Down-Easter for whom we made a collection when the ship got to New York. I believe that that is by no means an uncommon occurrence. Kildare's holy shrine, burned night and day; and here to my astonishment I found, on my first appearance, a sort of "sea Tattersall's" already established and in full swing: the subject of the speculations of the members not being the result of races to be run by horses on land, but the amount of miles our ship would make in the twenty-four hours from noon to noon. The way of doing business was for the bookmakers-and they were legion to give a certain margin of miles for the non-professional to make his guess in. If it was a tolerably calm day twenty-five miles was considered a fair margin; and if you guessed, say, from two hundred and fifty to two hundred and seventy-five knots as a twenty-four hours' run, and it was anything within those numbers, you won; if not, you had to pay. Large sums of money changed hands daily at this game; the bookmakers havhaving by far the best of it, on account of the uncertain state of the weather. Owing, I believe, to a betting squabble which had occurred on a previous voyage, the captain declined to allow an official log to be put up; so the "run" had to be obtained from the engineer. As some of the runs were far from corresponding with the anticipations of the losers, serious imputations were not whispered, but shouted, against the engineer, who was supposed by many to have been bribed. It was impossible for the unfortunate man to please everybody, and an authorized log would have been far more satisfactory, both to betting men and their clients; nor was it possible that gambling could have been thereby increased. On the first day that I entered the "smoking saloon" I was looked upon as likely to prove a pigeon. More than one of the bookmakers came forward politely with book and pencil, and offered to give me twenty, or asked if I would take fifteen. When it was discovered that I had no intention of betting, all sorts of rudeness was offered me, with the intention, doubtless, of disgusting me, and so causing me to give place to some one who might prove more profitable. Indeed, the "smoking saloon" soon got too small for the speculators and their prey, which last besieged the entrance, holding up their sovereigns in vain. Non-betting men were soon sick of the perpetual cry of "Give you twenty," and retired for a quieter pipe to the vicinity of the smoke-stack. Glad, indeed, was I to see the pilot-boat, a speck on the far horizon. Glasses were at once turned on her. There was immense excitement when she was first sighted. It was like the "Leger," the last big race of the season, and afforded a last chance for speculators to increase their winnings or get back their losings. The betting fraternity had got up a sweepstakes of £1 each, to be taken by the man who should draw the number of the pilotboat which was coming out to us. It was well known by some of the New Yorkers that there were twenty-four pilot-boats at New York. Twenty-four numbers were therefore put into the hat, and the rest were blanks. Some one also knew the most likely numbers, and speedily bought them up. When the boat was first sighted it was decided that she was No. 8. The number of these boats is marked on the mainsail in gigantic figures which can be read miles off. Then a very clever man indeed betted that she was not No. 8, and she was soon found to be No. 3. The "3" was sewn on both sides of the sail, and showed through. A short distance off it was exactly like an "8." and some of the betting men may have played the same trick before. The pilot-boat was a beautiful schooner, which rode quite com. fortably on the waves, which had still some effect on our big steamer. A tiny boat was soon let down into the rough sea; and into it descended a gentleman in a new tall hat, a shining frock coat, with kid gloves and everything to match. And now for the last piece of excitement. The gentleman in tall hat and kid gloves was close at hand. Would he first touch the deck with his left or right foot? A large sum of money was wagered on this event. We got very quiet after this. The betting men went below to pack up, and look for a clean paper collar. We landed at New York, and I saw them no more - I hope I never shall. On land one can keep clear of these gentry. To be cooped up with them at sea is a very sore affliction. When one came to examine these sea betting men, one could not help suspect ing that they were "welchers" who could no longer ply their trade on land. I think D. V. THE SANATORIUM OF THE SOUTHERN OCEAN, Cornhill Magazine, VII. MOORISH AMBASSADOR IN SPAIN, Modern Review, 195 Longman's Magazine, 206 213 223 Temple Bar, 247 251 For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, 18 cents. The hills lie purple in haze All thy days, The cloud sleeps over its shadow; The mist keeps watch o'er the meadow. The splendor thou hast, yet the spleen For oft when the woods are fairest With a tempest of passion tearest. Yet hast thou a kindly hest, And gently breakest the message, Of gathering swallows presage. O child of the summer past, Yet dearest of all we find thee! The hungering winter behind thee! TOGETHER. THE winter wind is wailing, sad and low, Gleams through the blackness of the great yew hedge; And this I read on earth and in the sky, "We ought to be together, you and I." Rapt through its rosy changes into dark, Fades all the west; and through the shadowy trees, And in the silent uplands of the park, Creeps the soft sighing of the rising breeze; It does but echo to my weary sigh, "We ought to be together, you and I." My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear, I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer, Heart, soul, and senses need you, one and all. I droop without your full frank sympathy We want each other so, to comprehend The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or wrought; Companion, comforter, and guide, and friend, As much as love asks love, does thought need thought. Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly, All The Year Round. us follow it. And Eadwine and the wise men of Northumbria, impelled by a desire to know the truth about the mysteries which surround human life, elected to try the new teaching and became Christians. of literature. His preface is a short and presses a warm sympathy with this branch valuable essay on philosophy treated through narrative fiction. "John Inglesant might, with more exactitude, be termed a psychological romance, since it deals with the drama of a soul's strivings; but Mr. Shorthouse prefers the title of philosophical, and is, at least, in so far right that the particular soul which he analyzes and depicts finds its resting-place as So seems the life of man, O King! as a sparrow's flight through the hall when one is sitting at meat in winter-tide, with the warm fire lighted on the hearth, but the icy rain-in a philosophy which falls something storm without. The sparrow flies in at one short of religion. The author is evidently door, and tarries for a moment in the light and desirous of rendering his romance heat of the hearth-fire; and then, flying forth charming as his philosophy is deep. He from the other door, vanishes into the darkness wishes to delight by fiction as well as to whence it came. So tarries, for a moment, the instruct by thought. He maintains a nice life of man in our sight; but what is before it, balance between character and incident. what after it, we know not. If this new teach- He has made a fitting selection of that ing tell us aught certainly of these things, let historical period which best suited his partly picturesque purpose. Incident may be somewhat subordinated to higher interests; but the romance remains a work of art, and does not sink into a mere philosophical or didactic treatise. He has the power of revivifying bygone times, and of re-creating characters which years agone lived, and loved, strove and suf fered, aspired and acted. When a longburied body is exposed to the light and air it sometimes crumbles into dust; and when an inferior artist tries to summon up the images of the unforgotten dead, his figures are stiff and lifeless, and turn to dust before our wearied eyes. Not so with Mr. Shorthouse. He has the lifegiving power of vital art. He has full command of romantic narrative fiction; and his work lives, moves, breathes, and has its being in the clear atmosphere of fine imagination. Twelve centuries have flown since this wise rede was given to the king by the earldorman; but, although the then new teaching has, broadly speaking, been adopted by all England during that long period, men still strain after fuller knowledge, and yearn for clearer light. The new teaching even has not brought to all men the full comfort of convincing certainty; has not wholly explained the before and after of the sparrow's flight; has not assuaged the sorrow of hopeless question, or satisfied the pangs of ceaseless doubt. It is still true that swift souls struggle after deeper insight; that doubt oppresses, and that inscrutable mystery Nevertheless, to the mere un-ideaed shadows many lives with sadness and with novel-reader "John Inglesant" must be a gloom. This perpetual spiritual drama of thing of sheer naught. For him it can the soul's aspirations, sorrows, and strain- have little charm and less value. With ings toward divine truth, finds, naturally, all the picturesque use of incident and and has often found, expression in litera- event, with all Mr. Shorthouse's skilful ture; and the latest work of mark which employment of the adventitious in human treats of this high argument, which has life, "John Inglesant" must remain a for its hero a warrior in the divine con- weariness to the ordinary vulgar reader flict, is Mr. Shorthouse's romance, "John who seeks trivial amusement or coarse Inglesant." Mr. Shorthouse defines his excitement which shall be obtained withwork as a philosophical romance, and he out an exercise of thought. To such defends this classification while he ex-readers such a spiritual romance is barren, |