pain. Our ignorance on this subject is not perhaps to be wondered at, when we conEider that philosophers, notwithstanding considerable experience, have not as yet succeeded in forming a perfectly satisfactory theory of ordinary intoxication. The discovery of chloroform is one of the many proofs which we are daily receiving of the advantage which is derived from the modern method of applying the intellect to the investigation of natural science, instead of abusing it in visionary speculations. In this discovery, the application of which to the relief of mortal suffering has been denounced by superstition, as an infringement of piety, a truly Christian philosophy should surely discern a recompense of the pursuit of truth, conducted in the desire and affection of good; and should behold an earnest of similar rewards to follow upon perseverance in the same course and spirit. Who knows to what extent the revelation of Nature's secrets may progressively increase the amount of human comfort and happiness? -seeing in how large a measure the knowledge of chloroform has stilled the shriek of agony and pain, which is so direful a discord in the still sad music of humanity." From "Sharpe's Magazine." THE CRYSTAL PALACE. begins to find that they pay-nay, pay well. What is more, the mere capitalist discovers that his contemporary, who has taste and knowledge in his brain, as well as gold in his pocket, doubles his money possessions faster than he does, who has no intellectual business to attend to; and thus the unskilled capitalist, like the unskilled laborer, stands no chance in the competition with the skilled. The result is, that the men who are now in the van of British commerce and manufactures are men of enlightened views and elevated aims, and those who would not imitate or co-operate with them from sympathy and confidence, are forced to do so through very shame and the fear of losing what they already possess. They do not half like the spirit of the age, but they yield to it, nevertheless, and in time will be moulded by it, and will be loth to see their children influenced by the spirit of the coming age, as it is their destiny to be. Without adequate knowledge, and without faith in the progress of humanity, such men shrink from calling up any reasonable picture of the state of things likely to grow up out of the work of this present generation. If any one present to their minds some idea of this, they do not know what to make of it. Such a man I talked with recently, as I stood on the bridge over the Serpentine, looking at the elegant fabric that rose like an exhalation before us. His talk set me thinking of the "unknown future," and "the good old times," as he called them. While "Then I gazed into the Future far as human eye he went on with melancholy forebodings and can see, Saw the vision of the World, and all the wonders that would be.”—Locksley Hall. THE Vision of the future is vast and brilliant enough to sate the imagination of the most poetic among us; and how men who pride themselves on being very sober and practical are reconciled to the necessity for introducing visions of fairy-land into the every-day business of life, we are amused to think. Surely they are a little frightened at heart, and could very well dispense with the beauty and brilliancy of the prospect opening before them and their children's children. Beauty and brilliancy-the Fine Arts, and the Pleasing Manufactures-do not seem sound, substantial investments for the British capitalist; yet, strange to say, the British capitalist, in these latter days, vague visionary fears, I was calling up a picture of the past, and making him figure in it in a way he little suspected-good man and merchant as he is. I will tell you what I was thinking of, reader, provided you promise never to divulge the matter to my practical friend, who wonders "how all this nonsense of universal exhibiting and promiscuous visiting of foreigners will end!" and "what our sensible forefathers would think of that silly glass toy!" Closing my eyes for a moment, I opened them again, and looked around. The place was the same, "but with a difference." It was Hyde Park, not as it is now, but as it was nineteen hundred years ago. All marks of civilization were gone. Park, roads, bridge, Serpentine, barracks, houses, people, all had disappeared. I stood on the verge of a tangled thicket, which skirted a great pri- | ing-spear, I recognized my practical roundmeval forest on the north, and the carol of shouldered friend already introduced to the innumerable birds alone broke the silence. reader, although I knew well enough that From the spot on which I stood, the ground he would never stir from home, on a spring sloped gently for about a mile down to a morning, without his everlasting great coat, broad winding river, that glittered like mol- comforter, and umbrella. I was not in the ten gold in the morning sun. I knew the least shocked, either at the coolness of his fair stream that was one day to be called stare or of his costume; I was only a little the "royal towered Thame." Wild swans surprised, I remember, to see how nimbly sailed gracefully hither and thither over its and gracefully he bounded over the ground, surface, appearing and disappearing among and to hear how remarkably well he spoke the reeds on the bank of the opposite reach, Welsh. My own sudden proficiency in that called afterwards by the invading Saxon, language seemed also quite a matter of Balder Sea, or the Sun God's Bay. The course. ground between me and the river (now populous Chelsea and Brompton) showed no trace of man or his works. Where the Hammersmith and Putney omnibuses now run, the wild roe and the fox-the snake and the lizard-the badger and the squirrel had all to themselves, save when the hungry wolf came to dispute a claim to existence with them. A rich mossy turf, broken here and there by patches of coarse grass, grose, underwood, and now and then a tall forest tree, was all that the eye could see towards the south. North, east, and west stretched the primeval forest-now bursting into leafbud. It might have been the inmost recess of an uninhabited island, so wild, fresh, and untrodden was the solitude. As I was enjoying the repose, and the savage beauty of the scene-quick and graceful as an aquatic bird, a coracle or light canoe shot across the stream, paddled skillfully by a human hand. Man, then, held dominion here. I watched my new acquaintance land on the near bank, and wander up and down. His attention seemed riveted on the eminence where I stood. He stopped and gazed-advanced, and stopped again. At length he stood still for some minutes, then retreated as if in alarm-again he advanced slowly. It was a strange pantomime of astonishment, fear, and curiosity. Was I, the modern Briton, clothed in broadcloth and crowned with beaver skin, the cause of all this excitement in the breast of an ancient Briton? At last courage seemed to predominate with in him, and he drew near. I felt no more astonishment than one does at the strangest metamorphoses in a dream, when in the graceful form of the naked, woad-dyed, splendidly tatooed savage before me, with his long streaming black hair and short hunt "Oh, son of Gwynne the brave!" he began, with an agitated voice, and fierce gleaming black eyes; "thou, too, art a seer and a prophet. Is it with thee as it is with me? Is this fair hunting-ground changed to thy view as by the wand of the sorcerer ? Have the armed sons of the southern land, that dwell in palaces of stone, made this ground of the brave Trinobantes their own? Dost thou see, as I see, all this green hill, over which our fathers hunted, cut up by the accursed instruments of the Roman, and made to wave with a new grass that they will force us to eat instead of the noble acorn? Are my eyes enchanted that I no longer see the thickets that sheltered the wild beasts? Are the tall trees laid low? Is all the ground laid bare to the plough of the invader? Do I, indeed, see our descendants tamely reaping corn where we have hunted the fallow-deer and fought with the wolf?" And he tossed back his hair wildly from his face, and looked about him like a clairvoyant, who dreads the thing he sees. I looked around too. It was as he had said a change had come o'er the scene. Between us and the river side the ground was covered with waving corn, and near at hand, on the site of the Great Exhibition, stood a farmer's dwelling, of a fashion I had never seen. A woman clothed in a flowing robe was bearing a vessel of water on her head; she had filled it from a spring that bubbled near; and laborers were scattered in the fields. The scene was no longer one of savage beauty. The hand of man had converted it into one of agricultural industry and prosperous repose. "Oh, most noble Trinobant !" I replied, "to me, as to thee, it is given to discern the things which are yet in the bosom of futu rity; but this future that I gaze upon is fairer and more desirable than that state of things in which you have lived. See here abundance. Food for a score where was lately barely food for one man, and that obtained at peril of his life. Say, is it not better so?" I turned, and the slight motion recalled me from my short dream. 66 "Better, how?" asked Mr. Jones, testily "I have been talking this half hour about the dreadful spirit of innovation, (improvement, enlightenment, you call it ;) I have been telling you of the corruption of morals that this terrible influx of foreigners will cause among us; to say nothing of the revolutionary spirit they will spread among the disaffected lower classes; I even tell you of the horrid conspiracy they had formed to murder our blessed queen and her artisthusband, and which was fortunately discovered and knocked on the head by a policeman, and you actually turn round and ask me if it is not better so. Allow me to say that you young fellows of the progress-party are all a little mad. Good morning! I can't stand looking at that great glittering bazaar any longer. And if you'll take a lesson from the wisdom of your ancestors-" "I shall come to the same conclusion as if I took a lesson from you," I said, laughing. "The creature man is the same in all ages; it is only the costume that is different," said the commonplace philosopher. "Your great glass-house, and the communion of all people within it, will never change his nature a bit, unless to make him more conceited and less simple in his habits. We shall all be wanting to live in glasshouses next." the innumerable right-lines, forming symmetrical figures of various sizes, but perfectly harmonious in their combination; the fine lines spread net-wise over the roof, as if it were the work of a huge geometric spider; the unsubdued light, the aërial, cheerful elegance, produce the strangest sensation of novelty, at the first glance. The feeling of admiration deepens as you remember how rapidly this enormous building has sprung up at the will of an energetic nation. As you move slowly along, and begin to understand how strong and firm it all is, more and more are you astonished that it should be so, for it looks ten times more unsubstantial from within that it does from without. It seems like a mere network of lines and light, like a morning mist ready to dissolve into thin air, and "Like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind." You cannot class it with the great works of architecture. Solidity, massiveness, the fretted vault, the sculptured capital, the solemn depth of shadow, and the partial light, revealing more by their mysterious blending and contrast than the flood of day pouring into the Crystal Palace on all sides, above and around; all these are wanted here. There is too much blank light, and there is no shadow at all. On a sunny day it has a wonderfully airy and gay effect, and if it may not be properly pronounced grand or beautiful, it is very elegant and gigantically pretty. It does not bring thoughts of the great supernatural ideas which overarch our mortal life. It does not help to move "the burden of the mystery Of all this unintelligible world" "Well," I replied, eagerly, "and what from our hearts. We do not feel as we look harm would there be in that?" "Oh, none; only the little boys of the next generation must learn not to throw stones. Glass-houses, indeed! what nonsense! Good morning." And away went the old-fashioned gentleman, flourishing his umbrella and muttering to himself. Ten minutes afterwards I stood within the Crystal Palace, and forgot him and all other things but that wondrous structure. The coup d'œil of the whole from the central point of the ground-floor is astounding. The immense length, the height of the transept, the light and elegant supports and galleries; around, that we are brought nearer to the eternal, immutable, all-perfect Source and Centre of all things; we do not pause and keep silence because the place is hallowed by the inspiration of a lofty genius. No, we are moved to surprise and admiration at the wonderful cleverness of the whole, the signal evidence of the power and intelligence of civilized man to create new worlds (material worlds) out of the fair globe which we inhabit; and we are lost in speculating as to how far off from his present stage of mechanical skill is the point at which God will say to man, “Hitherto shalt thou go, and no farther." As far as reason will carry us now, we may safely say that point is far | more appropriate for the intended Exhidistant. bition. Mr. Paxton's words occurred to us often while we were wandering about among the bales and packing cases assembled from every land "from Indus to the Pole." He says in a paper addressed to the Society of Arts on the 13th of November, 1850:-" A structure where the industry of all nations is intended to be exhibited, should, it is presumed, present to parties from all nations a building for the exhibition of their arts and manufactures, that, while it affords ample accommodation and convenience for the purposes intended, would of itself be the most singular and peculiar feature of the Exhibition. How far this has been accomplished, I must leave to the community to decide." The community will pronounce a decision thoroughly satisfactory to the able projector of the edifice; of that there is little doubt; and we hope future communities, as well as the present generation, will have further cause to be grateful to the memory of Mr. Paxton. May his wish of converting the whole into a winter garden, after it has served its original purpose, be realized! He says, "I would convert the building into a permanent winter garden, and would then make carriage drives and equestrian pro The feeling of strangeness and novelty, combined with that of airy cheerfulness, is what takes possession of the mind on first entering the Crystal Palace. The sort of thing is quite new, and you have no foregone conclusions, about what it ought or ought not to be like, to reconcile with your first impressions. After the novelty has ceased to astonish, as you wander along the elegant airy galleries, and look down into the vast nave, slowly, a true perception of the enormous size of the building steals into the mind. You see wagons and horses standing in the transept, and they look like children's toys. Large old elms spread their branches and seem small; the very sparrows believe they are flying about under the blue canopy of heaven. As you are looking at the pigmy size of a fellow-creature below, you see many more,—about five thousand workmen, returning hurriedly from dinner. They blacken the ground near the entrance like swarming emmets. This lasts only for a few minutes; they disperse themselves throughout the building, and it seems empty once more. An army could perform its evolutions conveniently in that long-drawn nave. The galleries themselves are the most charm-menades through it. Pedestrians would ing promenades imaginable, and to see a gorgeous procession sweep through them in the sunshine will be an enlivening sight. As it stands, the only fault that I can find with the appearance of the Crystal Palace is the flat roof of the nave. It would have been better, I think, had it been vaulted like the transept. The blue paint used in the decoation is also not quite pleasing; it should have been of a more delicate hue. When the awning is placed under the roof and along the south side of the building, the effect of the whole interior will be much improved. At present, there is too much light; articles valuable for their color will lose all richness in the glare. The want of shadow, too, reminds one of the portraits of Queen Elizabeth. A tinted awning would remove these objections very easily. It is a most surprising thing that there should be so little to find fault with, and that the projectors should have had so little difficulty in executing so great and elegant a design. Perhaps it would have been impossible, in ten years' study, to have hit upon any thing have about two miles of galleries, and two miles of walks upon the ground-floor, and sufficient room would then be left for plants. The whole intermediate spaces between the walks and drives would be planted with shrubs and climbers from temperate climes. In summer the upright glass might be removed, so as to give the appearance of continuous park and garden." Think of the blessing this winter garden would be to invalids, studious persons, and young children! Of the fashionable world we take no account; they are well able to provide for their own pleasures. Surely there is something very nearly akin to genius in the man who plans a Crystal Palace (the very name seems taken from an Arabian tale!) for the purpose of collecting within it all the cunningly devised works of every nation under heaven, that each may see how clever the others are, and learn from and esteem them accordingly; and then proposes to convert it into a garden more beautiful than the far-famed hanging one of the Babylonian Semiramis. And if the ingenuity, taste, and skill of the man who devised the building deserve the thanks and admiration of the world, what shall we say of the mind of the man who first proposed to the country the whole scheme of a Great Industrial Exhibition for all Nations? When you, good reader, hold this in your hand, the completed plan will be in operation; and, as far as may be judged from the promising state of matters now, it will be as successful as its projector and his royal wife can desire. But if it were not to prove successful-were it even to turn out a complete failure, we should say that it was an idea worthy of a great prince-noble, benevolent, and of extended utility. The spirit in which the thing was conceived, is that in which it should be carried through. What the nature of that spirit is, cannot be better described than in Prince Albert's own words, addressed to an assembly of dignitaries of the chief cities of the British Empire. When we remember that the person who speaks is a young prince, and a foreigner, this beautiful speech is the more remarkable. "I conceive it to be the duty of every educated person closely to watch and study the time in which he lives, and as far as in him lies to add his humble mite of individual exertion to further the accomplishment of what he believes Providence to have ordained. Nobody, however, who has paid any attention to the particular features of our present era, will doubt for a moment that we are living at a period of most wonderful transition, which tends rapidly to accomplish that great end, to which, indeed, all history points, the realization of the unity of mankind." It may fairly be disputed whether all history does point to such an end, but I suppose most men would be glad enough to believe it, and at all events we congratulate the prince whose heart and imagination are kept for ever warm by such a thought. He goes on eloquently, thus: "Not a unity which breaks down the limits and levels the peculiar characteristics of the different nations of the earth, but rather a unity the results and products of those very national varieties and antagonistic qualities. The distances which separated the different nations and parts of the globe are gradually vanishing before the achievements of modern invention, and we can trav erse them with incredible speed; the languages of all nations are known, and their acquirement placed within the reach of every body; thought is communicated with the rapidity, and even by the power of lightning. On the other hand, the great principle of the division of labor, which may be called the moving power of civilization, is extended to all branches of science, industry, and art. Whilst formerly the greatest mental energies strove at universal knowledge, and that knowledge was confined to the few, now they are directed to specialities, and in these again even to the minutest points. But the knowledge acquired becomes at once the property of the community at large; whilst formerly discovery was wrapt in secresy, it results from the publicity of the present day, that no sooner is a discovery or invention made than it is already improved upon and surpassed by competing efforts. The products of all quarters of the globe are placed at our disposal, and we have only to choose which is the best and cheapest for our purposes, and the powers of production are intrusted to the stimulus of competition and capital. So man is approaching a more complete fulfillment of that great and sacred mission which he has to perform in this world. His reason being created after the image of God, he has to use it to discover the laws by which the Almighty governs his creation, and, by making these laws his standard of action, to conquer nature to his use-himself a divine instrument. Science discovers these laws of power, motion, and transformation; industry applies them to the raw material which the earth yields us in abundance, but which becomes valuable only by knowledge; art teaches us the immutable laws of beauty and symmetry, and gives to our productions forms in accordance with them. The Exhibition of 1851 is to give us a true test and a living picture of the point of development at which the whole of mankind has arrived in this great task, and a new starting-point from which all nations will be able to direct their future exertions. I confidently hope that the first impression which the view of this vast collection will produce on the spectator, will be that of deep thankfulness to the Almighty for the blessings which he has bestowed upon us already here below; and the second, the |