useless, for he had already done so. Kneeling on the ice, he was praying fervently.

The governor gave an order in a low tone to the soldiers; then he came back to my side, for I had not left the sledge. In a minute the prisoner

rose.

"I am ready," he said.

The four soldiers rushed upon him.

I turned my eyes away; but though I did not see, I heard.

I heard the noise of a body hurled into the abyss. In spite of myself I turned round. The old man had disappeared. I forgot that I had no right to give orders, but shouted to the driver, "Away, away!"

"Stop!" cried the governor. The sledge, which had already moved, stopped again.

"All is not finished," the governor said to me in French. "What have we yet to do?" I asked.

"Wait!" he replied.

We waited half an hour.

"The ice has set, your excellency," one of the soldiers said. "Art thou sure?"

He struck the spot where the hole had so lately yawned: the water had become solid again.

"We can go," said the governor.

The horses started at a gallop, and in less than ten minutes we had reached the fortress. There I rejoined my conductor.

"To the Red Palace!" he said to the driver.

Five minutes after the emperor's door opened again to let me pass. He was up and fully dressed, just as I had seen him the first time. He stopped before me.

"Well?" he asked.

"I have seen," I replied.

"Thou hast seen, seen, seen ?"

"Look at me, sire," I said to him, "and you will not doubt."

I was standing before a mirror. I looked at myself, but I was so pale, my features were so altered, that I scarce recognised myself. The emperor looked at me, and went to take a second paper from the bureau where the first had lain.

"I give thee," he said, "an estate with five hundred peasants between Troitza and Peresloff. Start this night, and never come back to St. Petersburg. If thou speakest, thou knowest how I punish. Go."

I went. I never returned to St. Petersburg, and this is the first time I have told the story to a living soul.

Such is one of the legends of the fortress.

Faugh! the very ink seems to turn to blood as we describe these horrible details. We have no heart to write more, but will leave M. Dumas at this first stage of his journey, hoping that, when next we meet him, we may find more of himself and less of the atrocities committed by such ruffians as he represents Peter and Paul to have been. The history of Russia wants a little sunshine thrown on it; and it is cruel of M. Dumas to give us only the gloomiest details he can collect about a country which sadly wants an honest friend to show the few good qualities possesses.

it

BOOKS AND PICTURES.

WHATEVER success may attend Lord John Russell's political man-. œuvres, this much is certain with respect to his literary efforts-he is the author of more unreadable books than any other man in the kingdom. No matter what the subject, history or the drama, poetry or prose, fiction or fact, all experience the same treatment at his hands; his name on the title-page of a book is a warning to the reader as significant as Dante's memorable inscription over the entrance to the realms of woe all hope of being entertained may at once be abandoned. Any work of Lord John's will confirm the truth of this statement, but, for the sake of illustration, we will mention his latest, which he calls the "Life and Times of Charles James Fox." The "Times" if you please that could not well be otherwise, seeing that Lord John compiles from Hansard-but of the "Life," properly speaking, only ten pages. But one halfpenny-worth of bread to a most intolerable deal of sack. The excuse for this is, that he found it impossible to perform his task "without entering very fully into the Parliamentary history of the Times," an excuse which might have been valid enough if anything like a fair proportion had been observed between the two parts of the writer's subject. After all, the book is only an instalment, and for this we are thankful, as the remainder, perhaps, may never see the light. Yet we would rather afford Lord John the leisure to continue his work, than see him again in the place he seeks by his insidious amendments to occupy. If we must have either the statesman or the author, we accept him in the latter position, as the one in which he can do the least mischief. We presume it is solely for the purpose of preventing his "noble friend" from putting his foot in it again, that Lord Palmerston delivered his oracular speech last Friday.

We have already noticed in detail the interesting "Life of the Duchess of Orleans," as it appeared in its original French form; but we must revert to it here to speak of the English translation by Mrs. Austin, whose admirable preface affords that gifted authoress an opportunity of adding her personal testimony to the exalted virtues of the lamented princess. With very charming modesty Mrs. Austin apologises for imperfections in her version which really have no existence, the "gallicisms" which she has retained being, to use her own words, "forms of expression so indissolubly connected with modes of thought and feeling, that it is impossible to give a perfectly English garb to the former without robbing the latter of their peculiar and appropriate character." What Mrs. Austin adds on this subject is worth repeating, for other considerations. "But, besides those finesses of language which, while they leave some things half told, suggest a thousand others, there is in this volume a good deal of intentional vagueness. The state of the press in France is not favourable at this moment to clear and distinct utterance; and a writer who aspires to be anything better than a sycophant must often trust to the sagacity and apprehensiveness of his readers to supply what it might be dangerous to say." Mrs. Austin

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adds to this remark, the pertinence of which all will admit, "My only solicitude is that I may not be found to have disfigured the bright image presented to us in the original, and living in my own heart." Let Mrs. Austin be reassured. She has shown how the beauties of the picture drawn by the Marquise d'Harcourt may be heightened without for once departing from the limits of the strictest truth.

We shall have occasion to speak at length of the Duke of Buckingham's "Memoirs of the Court of George the Fourth," therefore we refrain from entering here upon the contents of those amusing volumes. Neither have we much room in this place, at present, to devote to "Books," so must perforce content ourselves with simply indicating these Memoirs, as well as the excessively interesting "Wanderings of an Artist among the Indians of North America," Mr. Lascelles Wraxall's well-timed and valuable work, "The Armies of the Great Powers," and Mr. Dasent's "Popular Tales from the North;" the Works of Art that claim our attention at this season might else be overlooked.

Of the pictures exhibited at the British Institution, this year, we may observe, as a general rule, that the highest-priced (the greater number being marked for sale) are by many degrees the worst. Take, for example, Sir G. Hayter's "Christening of the Prince of Wales," estimated (by the artist) at a thousand guineas! As the record of an historical event, the subject, of course, possesses interest; but the most intensely loyal amongst her Majesty's subjects would, we feel certain, infinitely prefer a cheap engraving of the subject to the court painter's original daub. On the principle laid down by Sir George Hayter and other exhibitors, real works of art are, indeed, priceless. We except from the charge of over-valuation Mr. J. Gilbert's characteristic picture, in which "Sir John Falstaff examines the 'half-dozen of sufficient men' provided for him by Robert Shallow, Esquire." Whoever possesses this admirable illustration of one of the most humorous scenes of Shakspeare need not grudge the sum it cost. Every face, every attitude, is a study, and no effort of memory is necessary to identify a single personage. The reputation which Mr. Ansdell has acquired by his Spanish subjects is fully sustained in the pictures exhibited by him at the British Institution. "Dos Amigos," representing a roadside greeting between two friends, is full of fine character, and perfect in all its details; and "Isla Mayor, on the Banks of the Guadalquivir," transports us to the very scene. Pictures like these do more to familiarise us with Spanish life than all the books that are written. The firm, accurate drawing and delicate colouring of Mr. George Stanfield are shown to great advantage in his " Isola Bella," "Caub," and "Richmond from the Swale:" the last-named work may take rank with anything he has yet produced. "A Wreck in Scratchell's Bay," by Mr. J. J. Wilson, is a fine specimen of marine painting: the tumbling waves and broken sea are admirable. But perhaps the most striking landscape in the exhibition is the "Sardis of Mr. Harry Johnston. The whole story of the ruined city is told in the desolate calm which the sunset of an Eastern sky throws round the broken columns of the ancient capital of Lydia: the treatment of the subject rises to the height of the artist's poetic feeling. Why has Mr. David Roberts been content to send sketches only to the British Institution? The interior of St. Mark's and the remains of the Roman Forum, such as we see them here, tantalise the spectator instead of rewarding him as Mr. Roberts

knows how to reward. Mr. E. W. Cooke takes more care of his reputation in a charming Venetian view, the chief ornament of which is a cluster of those picturesque fishing-boats, the "Bragozzi," which none know how to paint in detail with so much care as this accomplished artist. "Evening from Plymouth Harbour" is in Mr. J. Danby's best manner; and a view "On the Lazy Scheldt," by Mr. J. Webb, may challenge competition in many quarters. In "Lago Maggiore," Mr. G. E. Hering well sustains the position he has achieved. Mr. Frank Dillon exhibits two very striking pictures: "The Granite Sanctuary, Karnac," and "The Pyramids at Sunrise." The following also deserve most favourable notice: "Fishingboats under weigh on the Essex Coast," by Mr. J. Meadows, sen.; "The Swale at Richmond," and "Richmond, Yorkshire," by Mr. E. J. Niemann; "Early Morning in the Bay of Naples," by Mr. W. Melby; "The Château and Citadel of Dieppe," by Mr. W. Parrott; "Evening-The Alarm," by Mr. A. Gilbert; "Early Morning on the Lake of the Four Cantons," by Mr. Harry Johnston; and a gem in its way is Mr. G. Pettitt's "Lake Lugano." Mr. T. Y. Gooderson is an artist hitherto unknown to us, but for the future we shall look expectantly for works from his pencil. Two very sweet female heads-"Una Paesana,” and "Margarita," and "A Shepherd of the Abruzzi," establish a claim upon public favour which, we are convinced, will before long be widely admitted. Mr. R. Buckner's "Saltarello Romano" is a pretty subject very pleasingly treated; the "Allegro" of Mr. Frost is marked by all the graces of form and colour which are the attributes of his style; Mr. Sant's "Expectancy" is charming; Mr. Dicksee's "Bubbles" extremely clever; the "Waterdogs" of Mr. F. W. Keyl very spirited and natural; and there is much quiet humour and great truth in "The Bankrupt" of Mr. J. Collinson. What Mr. Ritchie means by such pictures as "Little Nell and her Grandfather leaving London," and "The Blind Girl of Castel Cuillé," it passes our imagination to conceive; but we have named with commendation a sufficient number of subjects to justify us in saying that this year's collection at the British Institution is at least an attractive one.

The Portland Gallery is, as usual, chiefly noticeable. for the number of its landscapes. The artists who exhibit there are quite right in making them the most conspicuous feature of the exhibition, for in that department of Art their strength really lies. When we see such subjects as "The Raft" and "The Death of Abel" treated in the pretentious and unsatisfactory manner of Messrs. F. and W. Underhill, and find nothing of that class possessing higher claims to consideration, we gladly turn for relief to the representation of external nature. The most striking work of this class is unquestionably Mr. Naish's view of "Le Creux Harbour," in the island of Sark: it is a scene of surpassing beauty, wonderfully coloured and most truthfully rendered. Very masterly treatment is observable in "An October Morning; Clearing the Ground for Winter Sowing," by Mr. Peel: it is a fine broad landscape, full of atmosphere, and well toned throughout. Mr. Burnett's views in Venice are photographic as to truth of drawing, but the reds and blues, though faithful to the actual scene, appear somewhat too vivid on canvas: for this reason we give the preference to the "Church of the Salute" over the "Island of San Giorgio." Mr. Leader's works, modest in price, are of admirable execution. They all deserve to be named, and

we, therefore, direct especial attention to them. They consist of "A Woodland Pool"-" The Mountain's Top"-" Ben Voirlich"-"Early Summer Time". "The Woods in Spring," and "The Warren Gate, Albury, Surrey." Mr. Raven deals with difficult effects, but he has great command of colour; witness his bold treatment of "Sain-Foin and Clover in Flower," which is one broad mass of pink and green, relieved by a sky of very delicate hue: the foreground, with its rich flowers, is very carefully brought out. "Red Wheat and Wild Flowers," by the same artist, is also full of the ripest colour. The Messrs. Pettitt, father and sons, have contributed some fine pictures. Look, for instance, at the "Red Tarn, Helvellyn," a noble subject, treated in the grandest manner; at "Argenio, on the Lake of Como," bathed in the most delicious evening light; at its companion subject on "Lake Orta," bright in the morning sun; at the "Margin of a Mountain Lake," full of repose; and at "Venice from the Arsenal," clear, broad, and effective. Another family-the family, in fact-for we know not how many members it numbers under the several designations of Williams, Gilbert, and Percy-supplies some of the most attractive landscapes in the gallery. Especially deserving of praise are—“The Ice Cart," on a hazy winter's morning; "Leading Hay: near Winchelsea;" "On the South Coast: the Weather Clearing;" "A Quiet Valley;" "A Welsh Lake" on a red autumnal afternoon; "On the Hills near Hastings," with a plunging view of the sea such as you may get of the lake beneath the heights of Bellaggio; "Thames Barges;" "Haymaking on the Banks of the Loddon;" a "Winter Sunset ;" and an evening effect with "Kelp Weed-gatherers on the Coast." The "Gathering Bark," by Mr. H. Moore, wants only a little more air to bring out the animals in the foreground, to make it one of the finest pictures here. Mr. Perigal is a very successful contributor: "Loch Goil," if somewhat hard, is excessively true; and so is "Carrick Castle." Mr. L. J. Wood has some charming little bits in Amiens and Calais; Mr. Valler's "Church of St. Michel" in the Vosges is meritorious; Mr. Taylor's “ Destruction of a Jetty during a Storm" is bold and clever; and a fine effect is accomplished in "The Morning after a Gale," by Mr. J. Meadows. Of subjects aiming at some story we have only room to indicate Mr. W. Underhill's "Young Poachers"- -a very clever picture; Mr. Macduff's humorous "Gretna Green as it was ;" and Mr. W. H. Fisk's "Tiresome Child at a Pic-nic' where, besides the treatment of the incident, the elaboration of the tangled brake, whither two lovers have strayed, is worthy of all praise.

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If time and space had been granted we should have described what we have seen at the Suffolk-street Gallery, which only opened this week; as it is, therefore, we must be content at present to speak of one picture only, which we cannot allow to remain unknown. This is the principal work of Mr. W. Salter, the subject," Lady Raleigh pleading to James I. for the Restoration of her Husband's Estates." The qualities of this picture are of the highest order. The story is read at a glance; and the composition, the expression, the colouring, and the general treatment, are such as to satisfy the most exacting criticism.