Mr. Darley's very characteristic picture on the opposite page
needs no description, it so thoroughly explains itself, and
realizes his intention. The following lines from Mary Howitt seem
very appropriate to the sketch:

"O golden fields of bending corn,
How beautiful they seem!
The reaper-folk, the piled up sheaves,
To me are like a dream;
The sunshine and the very air
Seem of old time, and take me there."




_A MANDARIN._

FROM THE FRENCH OF AUGUSTE VITU.


It was Saturday night, and the pavement sparkled with frost
diamonds under flashing lights and echoing steps in the opera
quarter. Tinkling carnival bells and wild singing resounded from
all the carriages dashing towards Rue Lepelletier; the shops were
only half shut, and Paris, wide awake, reveled in a fairy-night
frolic.

And yet, Felix d'Aubremel, one of the bright applauded heroes of
those orgies, seemed in no mood to answer their mad challenge.