WHEN, after the lapse of ages, the young student of history, perusing the annals of his country, glances at this memorable period of the nineteenth century, he will learn with astonishment and reverence what the resources, the ingenuity, and the perseverance of his ancestors accomplished even in those days of remote antiquity; he will learn that, upon the suggestion of a well-intentioned and amiable prince, at the bidding of an enterprising and determined people, animated by feelings of honest enthusiasm and of magnificent rivalry, the creative armies of the nation dauntlessly challenged all the empires of the earth to a bloodless contest, in which victory would confer wealth and honor, though defeat would be unattended either by discomfiture or ruin.

He will not be slow to perceive that, with one universal acclamation, one glad shout of generous eagerness, the friendly defiance was accepted, and the war of industry commenced. From that hour new energy appeared to have been infused into the mines, the laboratories, the forges, the looms, and the workshops of the world. In the most inaccessible quarters of Thibet and the wild regions of Oregon, as well as in Canada, the Brazils, Arabia, Russia, and China, a spirit of indomitable determination was everywhere evoked, and the denizens of each realm, far distant as well as those of the contiguous European States, pledged themselves to engage unconditionally in an honorable strife, where there was no foe to be vanquished, no adverse principle to be overthrown.

All having resolved to despatch their several detachments to the encounter, it next became matter of paramount importance to select an appropriate battle field.

Various localities were proposed, an infinite variety of regulations suggested, together with a multitude of restrictions to be enforced. After many an animated discussion, much long and eager debate, those to whom the deliberation upon these momentous preliminaries was intrusted announced the place of tourney and the order of the lists.

No existing edifice in those days was there in

England calculated to contain even a small proportion of the combatants, or of the innumerable spectators who would flock to the gorgeous arena. It became, therefore, primarily necessary that a structure calculated to shield all from the inclemencies of a northern summer should be devised and erected. Premiums were offered for the best design, and, in a short time, no less than 240 were proffered. One hundred and eighty of these were rejected, while from the remaining sixty it was considered that useful suggestions could be drawn. For, in consequence of the low state of architectural knowledge, it was not to be supposed that any one professor of the constructive art should possess the skill required to plan so gigantic and unprecedented a work.

The Committee previously nominated, and composed of the three greatest engineers and the three ablest architects then to be found in the dominions of the Queen of England, availing themselves of the hints severally contained in the threescore plans before them, proceeded to remodel and combine all that they deemed valuable in each, in order to devise one as nearly faultless as the materials at their disposal and their own attainments enabled them to produce.

Suffice it to observe that the result, though unsatisfactory, denoted great deliberation and care. The combined skill of the nation recommended that in an open place, then termed the Park of Hyde, between the row denominated Rotten, and a road leading to the suburb of Kensington, in the diocese of the newly-created Bishop of Westminster, a building should be raised, compounded with solidity of stone, mortar, and brick. It was to have been formed in three separate divisions, connected with side branches, the roof supported by iron columnar water-pipes, and having in its center a dome, larger than any ever yet seen beneath the vault of heaven. The lateral walls were to have been low; but eight venerable elm trees growing upon the selected area were to be permitted to remain under the cupola, in respect to a strong popular prejudice assigning particular virtues to these aged vegetables, and in compliance with the whim of a great moborator of that period, of the name of Sibthorp,

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whom the Government were obliged to conciliate.

Simultaneously with the publication of the intentions of the Committee, a storm of disapprobation throughout the length and breadth of the land, was observed to be gathering. At length it burst, and the fulminant of Printinghouse-square was not slow in illuminating the dark horizon with the coruscations of its impo. tent disregarded ire. Imitated by the still feebler exponents of public opinion, innumerable were the invectives and incessant the denunciations hurled at the heads of the originators of the great project. The diurnal and weekly press of that era, indeed, may be referred to with interest by those who imagined that those organs of power really possess the omnipotence so frequently ascribed to them. The dire prophecies with which they teemed, the miseries they predicted, the rueful consequences they announced, never existed but in the occiputs of the timid and imaginative writers who penned them; it would, therefore, be still more idle to cite them here. London, however, for a time was startled from its dingy propriety. Aristocratic Marylebone, stately Westminster, and heterogeneous Pimlico abounded in meetings only remarkable for the unanimity with which they stigmatized, as pernicious and destructive, the very undertaking they afterwards hailed with the most unqualified acclamation as a welcome boon.

Wisely disregarding the unmeaning censure or the needless laudation of the world, the Royal Commissioners complacently proceeded to give a corporeal existence to the combined emanations of so many brains whose services had been taxed in their behalf. At this particular juncture, when the final edict had gone forth that was to give active employment for months to numberless brickyards, quarries, and limekilns, a brief communication was made to the Executive, the work was suddenly stayed, and the hopes thus raised were in a moment and for ever frustrated. The communication in question proceeded from one Joseph Paxton, gardener to Dr. Cavendish, the then Duke of Devonshire. It appeared that the said Joseph Paxton had, for a long series of years, been practically engaged in the formation of habitations of iron and glass for tropical plaats. His ferrovitreous experience, therefore, enabled him, with comparatively little deliberation, to furnish working plans and specifications, superior in every respect to the combination already agreed upon. It was consequently determined that iron, glass and deal, alone, should be the component materials of the temporary edifice intended to encase specimens of almost every natural and artificial production of the globe.

In a period of time, incredibly brief, there accordingly arose in air, a stupendous monument of human ingenuity, perseverance, and skill. Light, translucent, symmetrical, and substantial, harmonious in proportion, elegant in design-it challenged and defied alike the criticism of the astounded world.

Never before had anything resembling it been beheld, either in material, form, or extent. Covering an expanse of eighteen acres, and comprising some six-and-twenty miles of gallery, it appeared at first impossible that it should ever be adequately filled.

Yet the efforts of the ingenious contriver to combine every requisite did not terminate with the mere delineation of the external shell. The novelty and magnitude of the task imposed new and arduous duties on the projector. Machines, for instance, were introduced to abridge the enormity of the manual labor requisite to produce nd to paint two hundred and five miles of sash-bar; other mechanical appliances sawed, planed, morticed, drilled, turned and glazed, but still more than two thousand artificers of all denominations were actively, though silently, engaged over every portion of the wide expanse.

The building consisted of a nave 64 feet high and 72 feet in width, with a series of side aisles, six 24 feet, and two 45 feet wide, of the respective heights of 23 and 43 feet; the whole spreading to 436 feet, the entire length being 1,851 feet. In the center of this long line of frontage, a transept 100 feet high, 408 feet long, and 72 feet wide, was seen. The whole was supported upon 1,060 hollow columns, serving at the same time as conduits for rain-water. 900,000 feet of glass, weighing 400 tons, were employed to glaze the various sashes; the total cubic contents they spanned being 33,000,000 feet.

Every contingency that prudence could foresee was provided against. The drainage, ventilation, means for moderating the intensity of the light, were duly attended to. The flooring was laid with interstices between each plank, allowing the dust and water used in cleansing them, to pass through and disappear. It is needless to enter here into all the minuter details of construction; suffice it, therefore, to institute a brief comparison on some points, between the great glass hive of the Exhibition, and an edifice of which most of our readers have some cognizance. The main avenue already described, was in width nearly double that of the nave of St. Paul's, and in length more than four times as great. Thirtyfive years were spent in raising the cathedral; the building in Hyde Park sprang into existence in less than half as many weeks! The walls of the

former pile were fourteen feet thick; those of the latter eight inches. Notwithstanding the rapidity of construction, so accurate was the workmanship, and so careful the supervision, that not a single crooked or faulty line was discoverable in the whole.

When the labors of those whose thews and sinews reared the giant fabric had ceased, a new and unexpected cause of dissension arose. Various schemes for its internal and external decoration were handed in. Some were for imparting to the whole of the interior an uniform hue of palish ocre, while they maintained that the outer surface should either be clothed in that shade of brilliant green peculiarly reverenced by the pious Mussulman, or else in the more sombre and less attractive dun that gives such delight to the eye of the enraptured Quaker.

On mature deliberation, it was determined not to favor the predilections of either sect, lest offence should have been unintentionally given to other and equally estimable denominations of religionists. After long and vehement debate, and when all, or nearly all, that could have been said or written upon the subject, had been reiterated ad nauseam, the ruling committee placed the matter in the hands of Mr. Owen Jones, a gentleman whose vocation, studies and pursuits eminently qualified him for the duty assigned to him. He at once determined upon the course he intended to adopt ; and if unfettered by absurd restrictions and ignorant suggestions, better still would it have been for the success of his undertaking. As it was, the course he pursued was a safe one, because the rules that guided him were theoretically true, and from the earliest antiquity had been followed with signal suc

cess.

The thousand and odd columns within, together with all the infinite reticulation and tracery they upheld, were painted, where near the spectator, in cool, pleasing, and unobtrusive colors, so disposed that, as the masses accumulated in the interminable vistas receding from the eye, the effect at a distance was to produce a grey neutral tone harmonizing with all the gorgeous profusion of glowing colors below and around. Circumstances already briefly alluded to reduced the period allowed for preparation to a very limited space. As the labors of the Commissioners and the exertions of contractors became daily more onerous and overwhelming, so proportionably became the demands of the artizan more importunate, and his demeanor more independent. Here, as in the generality of similar cases, selfinterest prompted a course of action that justice or honesty could hardly have approved.

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tunately for those more immediately concerned, as bands of discontended operatives struck and dispersed, others, in abundance, were found ready to supply their place, so that never even for an hour were the works suspended in consequence of the misconduct of the workmen. At length, about the end of March, 1851, the undertaking commenced in the previous September as rapidly approaching completion. All the main difficulties seemed to have been overcome. It was announced officially that the world would be admitted to its own museum on the morning of the 1st of May. Exhibitors labored day and night to terminate their preliminary arrangements. The moustachioed cabinetmaker of Paris, the bearded carpenter of Vienna, and the still more hirsute moutjik from Petersburg, probably for the first time in the annals of history, were to be seen. toiling side by side, beneath the same glazed canopy, each anxious to be foremost in the zeal and alacrity they displayed. About this time, however, new troubles and annoyances presented themselves to the minds of the harassed and over-worked Commissioners. It was found that, busy and rife as were the human operatives, above, below, and around, they were excelled in numbers and pertinacity by legions of rats and flights of sparrows, apparently strongly impressed with the conviction that the crystal vault was intended for their special comfort and delectation. To get rid of these troublesome and unexpected guests was no light nor easy task; and while operations for their discomfiture and expulsion were being planned and executed, fresh grievances appeared. Ere the first external coat of paint could be applied, or the panes of glass accidentally broken could be repaired, a London spring had set in with more than ordinary severity. For several weeks, almost without intermission, a leaden sky voided torrents of sooty rain on the new roof, as if to test to the uttermost its powers of resistance and the resources of its designer. Its frailty, from a variety of trivial causes, was soon rendered too apparent; but this mishap ceased in a great measure with the discovery of its origin. The greatest damage from the influx of water had been occasioned in one quarter by the malicious and dastardly act of a laborer, who had wilfully stopped up one of the rain-water drains, and thus flooded a considerable extent of the building below.

As the interval allowed for the termination of all the preparatory proceedings drew fast to a close, the numbers and activity of all engaged were proportionately augmented. At one period in April, indeed, there could not have been less than from nine to ten thousand men assiduously