ample livelihood, were he not apt to throw his hammer aside in the midst of his work, and lie down either to smoke or to sleep. He makes his fire on the ground, at which he plies his trade cross-legged, on anvils, often pieces of stone, assisted by his wife and children, who work the bellows. No sooner has he fashioned a part of the old iron he has collected or occasionally stolen into nails and other small goods, than each member of the family takes his portion and runs off with it to the village, where it is sold or bartered for bread, bacon, eggs, &c. He also engraves seals, mends kettles, and, when living in forests, makes wooden wares.

In several parts of the country he also washes gold found in the rivers. For this permission he pays eight shillings yearly to the treasury, and has to deliver up all the gold he collects at a stipulated price. The manipulation thereof is very simple. A board of limewood, three feet long by one broad, in which fifteen to twenty notches are cut, is used for washing the sand; the gold drops into the notches, and is then thoroughly cleaned in troughs filled with water. The boards are occasionally covered with flannel, the better to gather up the minute particles of the precious metal. At the time of the heavy rains in the mountains, when the rivers are swollen, the gold-washing is the most productive.

Pilfering is the innate, darling occupation of the morre. Wherever he goes or stays, and whatever he is about, he keeps a sharp eye upon everything he can carry off unobserved; and the shamefacedness with which he denies his deed is truly amazing. On one occasion, a gipsy, whilst in the presence of a nobleman, skilfully pocketed his watch, which was lying on the table. The owner, hearing a ticking at the gipsy's side, asked what the sound proceeded from? Whereon the thief replied, with perfect self-possession, " from my spurs ;" although he was barefooted. A morre, sent to prison for horse-stealing, when asked what he had to say in his defence, replied, with an air of injured dignity,-"I did not steal the horse, the horse stole me. As I was walking through a hollow-way, I saw a horse lying across the path. Owing to the steep slopes of the ravine I could not get out of his way, without coming in contact with him, and I thought to myself, if I pass by his head he will bite me; if by his tail he will kick; so I decided to step over him: at the very moment I did so, the wild animal sprang upon his legs and ran off with me, in spite of all my efforts to stop him."

As the morre loves his ease better than work, he often remains in his hut sleeping, and dispatches his wife and children in quest of provisions. The hungry foragers sally forth to one of the neighbouring villages either to beg, tell fortunes, or sell their small wares; and whilst the mother occupies the attention of the inhabitants by her volubility, the purdés prowl about and steal whatever comes within their reach.

When telling fortunes-a monopoly of the women-they offer amulets of leaven with curious hieroglyphics and charmed knots for sale, which are to bring certain luck to the possessor in gambling, love, and such-like hazardous affairs. When begging, they sing and dance, making diverse comic gestures, between-times throwing somersets and poising themselves upon their heads.

Other branches of their industry consist in the discovery of stolen goods and in doctoring cattle. In the first instance, it is readily to be conceived that the gipsy, who is perhaps himself the thief, or, from his connexion with all the vagabonds and thieves in the neighbourhood is well-informed on such points, may, without the aid of the black-art, seem to possess a supernatural power in detecting the stolen property. When called upon for help, on such occasions, by the party who has been robbed, he assumes an air of mystery, offering his aid for a due reward to be paid in advance. The oracle then usually appoints a meeting on the third day, at some lonely place, for the restoration of the missing property, which is of course forthcoming, and the possessor loudly extols the gipsy's wonderful detective power.

The cure of cows rejecting their food is intrusted to the women, the simple owners little dreaming that they were the primary cause of the malady. The affair is conducted as follows:-A gipsy-woman, acquainted, or even in league, with the herdsman of a drove, repairs to the pasturage where the cattle are grazing, and rubs the mouth of one of the cows with tallow, the poor animal thus becoming disgusted with every kind of food. No sooner has the farmer remarked this, than he sends for the wise gipsy-woman, who, after remaining a short time in the stable with the cow, charms away its ailment, which consists simply in carefully wiping off the tallow from its mouth. The animal greedily takes its food again, and the gipsy walks off with the reward of her double-dealing.

There is, perhaps, no business within the reach of a morre which better suits his shrewd nature than that of horse-dealing, which opens

for him a field in stealing as well as in cheating. His artifices in changing the appearance of a stolen horse, and in metamorphosing an old hack into a magnificent charger, are numberless. Whoever buys a horse from a gipsy, however cheap, may be sure that, in one respect or another, he has been imposed upon.

The social life of this outlawed race bears the impress of great moral depravity. Under a tent, or in a narrow hut, containing one single room, the whole family live, however numerous, without any furniture, even without a bed. In the middle of this room, a fire, their never-failing companion, burns alike in winter and summer, over which hangs the large soupkettle on two forked sticks. Into it they throw pell-mell all the eatables they procure during the day, consisting of the most curious medley of gipsy dainties-from a rotten egg to a dead cat.

As soon as the boy enters manhood, he seeks for a companion amongst the swarthy beauties of his tribe, and after a short courtship makes his proposals to the object of his choice, the consent of parents being not much cared for by either of the parties.

On the wedding-day, the bridegroom and bride don their best apparel-the former's consisting of a hussar-cloak, probably older than himself, of a red or green colour, furred and braided, and on which, if the owner be wealthy, glitter large zine or silver buttons. The bride wears a red petticoat of many folds, and a white shirt with short, full sleeves, her hair and neck adorned with copper coins. If they are not compelled to go to church, the matrimonial ceremony is performed in a hut by the rajda, or the oldest dade in the band, the bridegroom pledging his faith in the following manner:-"I take thee for my hut-companion as long as thou canst carry the szatyor”—a sort of basket--that is to say, till death, for a gipsy-woman is never without her szatyor, in which she collects all the odds and ends she picks up during her rambles. Then comes feasting and dancing, in which each member of the tribe shares. On the third day, the merry-making. terminates, and the newlywedded couple build a hut, procure the implements for forging, and commence their domestic life, with all its piquant daily occurrences of begging, pilfering, idling, &c. The ménage is regarded incomplete until an old jade, and, under very favourable circumstances, even a cart, is procured for the transport of the purdés and utensils.

The parents never omit to have their children baptized, repeating the ceremony, no

matter whether Catholic or Protestant, as often as they, in their roving, arrive at a fresh village. This they do in order to extort rich baptismal gifts, with which the children are usually presented by their god-parents, who are chosen from the wealthiest and most zealous inhabitants; but, notwithstanding the administration of all forms of Christian baptism, the brown progeny remain as much heathen as their unbaptized ancestors. A gipsy-mother rubs the body of her baby with an ointment, to give it a swarthy complexion; the little one is then exposed to the sun, or placed before the fire, to complete the darkening process. The parents are much attached to their children, and infanticide is unknown amongst them. Whenever the authorities want to compel a gipsy to confess some misdeed or other, they have only to carry off his purdés, and they are sure to gain their point.

In removing from place to place, which they do without regret-without casting back one sad farewell glance-they always destroy their huts, that when they leave all traces may disappear with them.

The migration and the encampment of those nomades called "Wallachian gipsies," who are allowed to remain only for three days within the landmark of a village, afford many an enlivening and peculiar scene. The procession, often consisting of ten to fifteen families, is headed by the old vajda on horseback, followed by horses laden with every sort of chattel, and accompanied by the men on foot, tall, robust fellows, clad in dirty shirts and drawers, the head and feet bare, each carrying a bundle, and vociferating in a most animated manner. Then come the carts, covered with tarpawling, and dragged at a slow pace by worn-out hacks. From each of the vehicles a dozen purdés peep forth with their little glistening eyes, one singing, another crying; some wrestling, or trying to play on different instruments; others conversing with their mothers, who walk by the side of the carts, generally leading a purdé in either hand, most of them having also babies on their backs. On arriving at the banks of a river, near a village, the caravan stops, and for several moments a noisy, bustling scene ensues, until each family has found the spot best fitted for their tents. Hereupon, as on a given sign, the whole tribe swarm like locusts into the village, where, in defiance of locked doors and savage dogs, every house is compelled to contribute to their wants. Towards evening, they again assemble in the camp, preparing and consuming their spoil, amidst jests and merriment. Wherever these ravenous

guests make their appearance, the inhabitants of the village surround their camp with sentinels; yet, notwithstanding their precaution and vigilance, the predatory gang commits merciless ravages amongst the poultry.

The gipsy despises all possessions he cannot carry along with him. For silver utensils, particularly goblets, he has a great fancy; and in general every family has a piece of plate, an inheritance from father to son, which during the march is hung in a knapsack round the dade's neck, and in the hut buried under the fire-place, to save it from being stolen.

At the demise of a member, the whole tribe weeps and howls round the corpse, whilst the

most skilled dades try to restore animation. After vain attempts, the vajda exclaims, “He is gone!" Whereupon the corpse is committed, without any ceremony, to some lonely and quiet grave, and, after momentary mourning, the survivors continue their thoughtless existence.

There are about 40,000 gipsies in Hungary; but they appear to be more numerous, from their incessant wandering over the country. Their numbers, however, yearly decrease, owing to their receding before the tide of advancing civilisation; and they would probably become soon extinct, if new bands did not immigrate from time to time from the East.

IF literary itinerants from Europe have expended mountains of hot-pressed post in describing, criticising, denouncing, and defending the social, personal, and political peculiarities of our American brethren, the latter have shown themselves not backward in returning the compliment, and indeed paying back the debt with interest. Our institu

tions, our morals, our habits, manners, thoughts and actions, dans cette vieille Europe, have, one after the other, been disposed of "for good or bad," in a sentence or two of ex cathedra approval or condemnation, by transatlantic cousins, who passed, perhaps, half-a-dozen weeks in Europe, and then hastened back to publish the result of their "experiences." Mr. Brace, the author of Home Life in Germany,* is not a highflyer of this stamp. He seems to have come to Europe not predetermined to praise or dispraise, but to observe and report in a frank and truthful spirit. This, in short, he has done. That he is no flatterer of the faults of his countrymen, will be judged from the following pregnant sentence of warning against a growing evil :-"It seems to me that in this universal greed for money, in this clangour and universal whirl of American life, in the extravagant habits everywhere growing up, and in the little heed given to quiet home enjoyment, or to the pleasures from art and beauty, a voice from those calm, genial, old German homes, might be of good to us-telling of a more simple, economical habit-of sunny and friendly hospitalities of quiet, cultured tastes, and of a social life, whose affection and cheerfulness make the outward world as nothing in the comparison." Mr. Brace is a thoughtful, observant man, who forcibly describes what he sees, because he means to describe it accurately. We could have no doubt whatever that if his suggestions to his countrymen were accepted in a right spirit, they would be productive of much good. But here is the point-will they be so accepted? With the example of the late Mr. Fenimore Cooper before us, we confess to grave fears on the matter; and we only trust that Mr. Brace may not, like his gifted predecessor, bring a hornet's nest about him.

* London: R. Bentley, New Burlington-street.

A "TRAVELLER'S TALE' is the stock butt of a certain species of not very brilliant facetiousness. At a period when many jokes, now ancient, were in their infancy, to tell a tea-table wit that a given story was related on the authority of a traveller was enough to draw about one's ears a magazine of small jests, kept in special reserve for moments when ordinary subjects flagged. To an age of over-yielding credulity had succeeded one of not less unreasoning scepticism, wherein men, whose substantial veracity has in later times been amply vindicated, were ridiculed as fiction-weavers of the most unconscionable character. Excellent Marco Polo and worthy Sir John Mandeville-whose descriptions of what he actually saw, modern discovery and research have proved in the full light of their truthfulnesswere chosen objects for the ridicule of persons whose self-conceit and shallow ignorance were well proportioned to each other; whilst, thirty years since, no greater schism against conventional criticism could be mentioned than that of accepting Mr. Bruce's statements in reference to the subjects respecting which he has supplied the world with such valuable and painfully-earned information. In our own generation, however, much of this injustice to the memory and labours of famous travellers is in course of rectification; and even Ferdinand Mendez Pinto himself so well known to our readers through an invocation as unjust as it is renowned-turns out not to have been so wholly imbued with the spirit of mendacity as our preconceived notions represent him to be. Amongst the works which will have done most good in the removal of undue prejudices against very ancient travellers, is the new edition of PARKE'S translation of The History of the Great and Mighty Kingdom of China, and the situation thereof, compiled by the Padre Juan Gonzalez de Mendoza.* The first volume is before us. It is edited by Sir George Staunton--himself an oriental traveller of celebrity —and contains an intelligent introduction by R. II. Major, Esq. The Padre Mendoza was a Spanish soldier, turned a priest, like many others of his military compatriots, and, in 1580, he accompanied

* Printed for the Hakluyt Society.

an unsuccessful embassy sent by Philip the Second to the Emperor of China. Remaining for a considerable time in the country, he had an opportunity of making many personal observations. On his return he set about the useful and laudable undertaking of collecting all the best authorities, comparing them with what he had himself seen, and moulding, compiling, and kneading these various materials into a general history and description of the empire. This was a great undertaking, and the work, when published, acquired high reputation, being translated into various languages; but, like many able books of that period, afterwards fell into oblivion. The Hakluyt Society has done well in drawing it from its obscurity. The present edition, in its complete form, promises to afford the most ready, easy, and convenient means extant, of ascertaining the thoughts and appreciating the opinions of the old writers and travellers respecting China, and comparing them with the results of the knowledge which is breaking in upon ourselves.

FOUR of the most popular of the French artists, Messrs. TONY JOHANNOT, JACQUEMOT, LAMY, and FRANÇOIS, have united their talents in the illustration of a magnificent volume, A Summer at BadenBaden, the letter-press portion of which is composed by M. GUIROT. No spot in Europe is more "hacknied," so far as tour-making and pleasurenot always of the most praiseworthy kind-are concerned; but no doubt there is in the neighbourhood, as well as in the place itself, work enough for the descriptive powers both of the pen and of the graver. To old stagers, who, having escaped the dangers of the place, are now sitting at home at ease, the volume will serve to call up recollections pleasant or the reverse; and to intending visitants it will serve as a pleasant guide, and, let us hope, as an useful monitor against the dangers to which we have alluded.

HAVING lately had to take notice of several remarkable books of travel, the productions of ladies who had adventured into the most wild and inaccessible regions of the earth for the purpose of spying out the secrets thereof, we were not surprised when we found on our table A Lady's Visit to the Gold Diggings of Australia, in 1852-3.* The book was written on the spot. The author, Mrs. CHARLES CLACY, went to Melbourne in the spring of last year, being at the time unmarried, arrived at Melbourne in August, and proceeded to the Diggings; remained there some three or four months in company with her brother, personally noting with carefulness and minuteness the strange scenes passing around her; returned to Melbourne, got married; and again to England, where she arrived last February;-a sharp twelve months' work for a young lady. But Mrs. Clacy's is a mind which evidently shrinks not from hard work, and is as little apt to cower before peril; and we are happy to have to express our opinion that those who wish to obtain sound, practical, trustworthy, because evidently truthful, information respecting daily life at the Diggings in the autumn of 1852, will find reason to bless their stars that Mrs. Clacy's love for a young brother, who had resolved on becoming a digger, induced her to undertake her eventful

London: Hurst and Blackett, Great Marlborough-street. VOL. III. N. S.

journey. Descriptions of the dangers, the difficulties, and the pleasures, such as they are, of the gold-seeker-the disappointments which he must endure, and the successes which he may or may not meet the knavery of which he is made the victim, the misery of his lot when his search is in vain-and the destructive and almost inevitable temptations which beset him when he achieves his long-sought object-apparent success not unfrequently proving the parent of irretrievable ruinsuch are amongst the lessons which may be deduced from a perusal of the well-considered and wellwritten work of Mrs. Clacy, who has given the most creditable proof in the world of what may be done and learned in the course of a few months, by one really endowed with spirit and capacity to learn and to do.

IN personal memoirs and correspondence are found some of the most valuable materials out of which the more grave and pretentious historical monuments are constituted; and of this we are reminded by the lately-published Journals and Correspondence of General Sir Harry Calvert, Bart., comprising the Campaigns in Flanders, in 1793-94.* The General's son, Sir HARRY VERNEY, Bart., has performed the pious duty of collecting the numerous letters written by his father during a period which included the most trying and terrific crisis of the first war of the French revolution. If Sir Harry Calvert's name be not associated on terms of entire equality with those of such men as the Wellesley's and the Napier's, he was an excellent correspondent, and his son is an excellent editor. The explanatory addenda to the diary and correspondence are in themselves interesting. Altogether, the volume throws much light on a variety of subjects, respecting which a vast amount of misconception had existed. Sir Harry was not less a good patriot than a good correspondent; and it is somewhat amusing to hear him uttering his positive belief, that "whatever of public spirit and public virtue remains on the earth is exclusively concentrated in Great Britain;" almost in the same breath with which he bears testimony to the unblushing profligacy which prevailed in that which, at the time in question, was undoubtedly the most important department of the public service. One of the weak points of the book consists in the ludicrously unsuccessful attempt of the editor to redeem the character of the singularly worthless individual, who "commanded" the British forces in the Low Countries, from the imputation of disastrous incapacity to which he so fully made out his title. Readers of ordinary intelligence, however, will scarcely be in danger of being misled by any of the arguments put forward on this part of the subject; whilst the bluff, honest, out-spoken patriotism of Sir Harry Calvert, even though incapable of seeing anything but villany and cowardice in our foreign allies, cursing them heartily and unconditionally, and evidently wholly unable or willing to comprehend all the "difficulties of the situation," is, in itself, a feature racy in its very rareness.

THE history of art is well told in the biographies of the artist, of whom-not less truly than with respect to the poet-it may be said that he is a creation of nature, and, if not born to his calling,

* London: Hurst and Blackett, Great Marlborough-street.

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will never win fame by it. Painters and sculptors of eminence, even more emphatically than poets, have almost invariably exhibited from childhood an invincible passion for their art; and this trait has seldom been more powerfully exemplified than by some of the facts related in A Memorial of Horatio Greenough, consisting of a Memoir, Selections from his Writings, and Tributes to his Genius.* HENRY B. TUCKERMAN. Greenough died on the 18th of September, 1852, having barely passed his 47th year; yet is he described by Mr. Tuckerman as "the pioneer of his country's sculptors," an epithet which tells of the very recent rise of art in the United States. In his early career he had many difficulties to contend with; but genius and perseverance enabled him to overcome them all; and he died in the enjoyment of a great reputation amongst his own countrymen, and of a fair standing amongst the artists of the world. Some of his works have obtained an established recognition from the connoisseurs of both hemispheres, and it is no wonder that his compatriots should dwell on his memory with a feeling akin to enthusiasm. He was himself, no doubt, a man to be esteemed for his kindliness of disposition as much as for his talents; and this amiable turn of mind, we understand, was more than once displayed in his demeanour towards younger artists-especially, perhaps, those of his own country-in their endeavours to ascend the up-hill path which he had himself to surmount only a short time before. Mr. Tuckerman brought superabundant enthusiasm and devotion to his work, which we doubt not was a labour of love; but it would not have been worse performed had the style been more subdued, the materials methodized, and the besetting temptations to "fine writing" resisted.

In common with all the world, we had imagined that the day had long since passed by when we could have expected to see the venerable name of WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR on the title-page of a new work; and with mingled feelings of wonder, curiosity, and respect, we opened the leaves of The Last Fruit off an Old Tree,+ from that renowned representative of the highest order of English literature. The old spirit is there, as pregnantly suggestive, as nervously masculine, as ever. There are numerous "conversations," all reminding us of the genius which produced their predecessors, so long known wherever, through the realm of Christian civilisation, a taste for what is true and noble in thought and sentiment exists. But the subjects are different indeed. There is a multiplicity of other papers, including several poems, epistles, &c. Mr. Landor has in this volume abandoned many of the orthographical peculiarities which of old excited so much remark-not at all times of the most charitable kind. Some of the essays retain that caustic severity of tone (in reference to things regarded by Mr. Landor as foolish, hypocritical, or base) that has before now scattered dismay amongst the frivolous. He is particularly indignant when contemplating the desecration committed in the raising of statues to those whom he considers unworthy of such

* London and New York: Putnam and Co.

↑ London: Edward Moxon.

honours, whilst the memories of men who ennobled our country and our species have been neglected. We are not prepared to conjecture the cause of his wrathful allusions to the failings of certain deceased members of the royal family; why, when he disapproves of raising a statue to Jenner in "any street, or square, or avenue," he alleges as his specific objection that it would be placing that great man on a level with "the dismemberer of America, and his worthless sons;" or why, when claiming a statue for an elder worthy, he points with seorn so intense to the occupant of one of our most conspicuous metropolitan columns, and so fervently invokes the day "when a royal swindler is superseded by the purest and most exalted of our heroes, Blake." But, say many who differ from him, such passages may be accounted amongst Mr. Landor's whims and oddities. Not a doubt is entertained by us that they contain, at all events, the candid expression of what he believes. And so, in grateful recollection of what Mr. Landor has done for the cause of dignity, honour, and truthfulness in literature, we decline to cavil with his peculiarities, even when they approach the bounds of eccentricity.

The

Few subjects are more important (and few are likely, as time advances, to engross more of the attention of those who are capable of contemplating our national prospects, apart from the din of party disputes) than the consideration of the means whereby the educational standard of the operative classes can be effectually raised, both as regards literary acquirements and the knowledge of the principles which regulate those great industrial operations from which so much of our wealth and greatness is derived. It is pretty generally confessed that mechanics' institutions, however exeellent in their design, have either been left behind by the age, or have, on the other hand, left behind the classes for which they were intended-that in short they are, at least comparatively, failures. Dr. A. KILGOUR has just composed a remarkable pamphlet on this subject. It is entitled Mechanics İnstitutions; what they are, and how they may be made, Educationally and Politically, more useful." doctor's plan is, aid and endowment from the State; the establishment of lectureships, &c., under Government inspection: allowances to teachers, &c.; and he thinks that, notwithstanding the inadequacy of the existing mechanics' institutes to effect the desired object, they present an excellent nucleus and initiative machinery for carrying it out. Amongst the ulterior details of the doctor's plan is the one so often talked about-viz., to make education the test of qualification for the electoral franchise. It is not our province to express an opinion upon topics touching so closely on politics; but, as the essay is in many respects an able and remarkable one, we have thought it right to call attention to it at a moment when government emissaries are returning from abroad, and declaring that, if we do not raise the intelligence of our artisans, the time must soon come when Great Britain will lose her foremost place in the world's race of manufacturing and mercantile competition. London: Smith, Elder, and Co., Cornhill.