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the re-entering angles are strengthened and decorations of the dome, incomparably by four massive towers, three containing vestries, and one a staircase, all continued to the height of the clere-story walls or about 100 ft. from the ground. To the west front, which was intended for the principal entrance, are added laterally, beyond the breadth of the building (as at Wells and Rouen) two bell-towers which rise with pyramidal summits, to double the height of the roofs; and behind or east of them, are two oblong chapels rising no higher than the aisles, but having rooms over them, corresponding to the clere-story. On the eight central arches are built two concentric circular walls, the outer supporting a complete colonnade, 140 ft. in diameter, admirably contrived to abut the inner, which carries the domes. These with their lantern, crowned by a gilt copper ball and cross, rise altogether to thrice the height of the roofs, or 365 ft. from the ground, 356 from the floor of the church, and 375 from that of the crypts.

Simple ratios prevail between all the leading dimensions, and especially the ratio of 1 to 2 between the breath and height of openings, avenues, and spaces. Thus the windows are chiefly 12 ft. wide by 24 high; the aisles 19 feet. in clear width by 38 in clear height; the central avenues 41 by 84 (a deficiency of only one foot in breadth); the beautiful-domed vestibule at the west end, 47 square by 94 high; and lastly, the central space, 108 in clear width, by 216 high. In clear diameter, this space is exceeded by that between the four piers of St. Sophia, 162 ft.; between those of St. Peter's 157; the circular inclosure of the Pantheon, 144; the octagon (with four sides open) of Florence Cathedral, 138; and the crossing (with all sides open) of the mosque of Achmet, 130 ft. In height, however, it stands third, exceeding the Pantheon by 70 ft.; about equalling St. Sophia, but falling short of the Florence cupola by 50 ft., and of St. Peter's by 150. To show what various proportions have been admired:-at the Pantheon, the clear height is equal to the breadth, and at Achmet's dome about the same; at St. Sophia, one-third greater; at Florence and St. Paul's, twice; and at St. Peter's two and a half times the breadth.

Our view, projected from a point in the steeple of St. Martin's, Ludgate, with the houses omitted, will show the external form

the finest part; and the west front, which is next in merit. With regard to the rest of the exterior, it is to be observed that the aisles are included entirely in the height of the lower order of pilasters; and that the upper, which has empty niches instead of windows, is merely a wall or screen, erected as some say, to hide the unclassical forms of flying buttresses, but we cannot attribute to Wren so very clumsy and disproportioned an expedient. He certainly had invention enough to have given those features a form harmonizing with the style of the rest; and if not, no necessary features would be considered, except perhaps in the nineteenth cen tury,to justify so gross an extravagance. Besides, the massiveness of this wall, about 9 ft. thick, precludes the idea of a mere screen, and seems to suggest that its chief motive may be to furnish a load like that of the Gothic pinnacles, but much heavier, to steady the piers below it against the thrust of the vaultings, without requiring very promiment buttresses.

WAR AND PEACE.

BY JAMES STONEHOUSE.

THE warrior waves his standard high,
His falchion flashes in the fray:
He madly shouts his battle-cry,
And glories in a well-fought day.
But Famine's at the city gate,
And Rapine prowls without the walls,
The country round lies desolate,
While Havoc's blighting footstep falls.
By ruined hearths-by homes defiled-
In scenes that Nature's visage mar:
We feel the storm of Passions wild,
And pluck the bitter fruit of war.

The cobweb hangs on sword and belt,
The charger draws the gliding plough;
The cannon in the furnace melt,

And change to gentle purpose now.
The threshers swing their pond'rous flails;
The craftsmen toil with cheerful might,
The ocean swarms with merchant sails,

And busy mills look gay by night.
The happy land becomes renowned,
As knowledge, arts, and wealth increase,
And thus with Plenty smiling round,

We cull the blessed Fruits of Peace.

MANY complain of neglect who never tried to attract regard.

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champagne outrageously drunk in chorus in the days of Sontag-olatry when Barnum was a baby! And we see what a stir Cinderella's shoe has been making among the Noters and Querists, brilliant having been the defence of the old original glass slipper by the Britomart of the LADIES' COMPANION, who last week beat the big-wigs in toilet antiquarianism."

"There is no spot so strange that a shoe | Out of Mademoiselle Sontag's shoe was may not chance to be discovered in it. I remember, after his death, to have found a tiny, apricot-satin slipper, of many years' standing, all faded and frayed, among the parchments and papers of the harshest old bachelor, who ever painted love as dismal, and matrimony a sore evil-for the admonition of the rising generation.-I have seen a shapeless hobnailed leather specimen clamped, and patched, and vamped up, serve by way of a flowerpot in the balcony of an especially rustical young lady.-The Old Judge' told us how little Lizzy Fink's shoe was detected by Miss Sally Horn the inimitable, as having been obliviously baked into a partridge pie at a 'picnic stir.

"Pourtant," said Madame Récamierwho is at best unable to relish the feuilleton tone of modern times, and who, on this occasion, was entirely distanced by the coxcombical English of the journalist I was the other day reading in our favorite bower, (having reciprocated with the owner of a

Crystal, and by the aid of DRAGON receiving the very last intelligence from Bath and London)" Pourtant, I know a story of a lost shoe odder than any thing that you have mentioned. But, first, what is Sontag olatry, my beau Lor Nash? I conceive your English very well, but do not understand me of that long word."

I might have told the dear lady that it meant the same thing as Vestris-olatry, or Guimard-olatry, or Récamier-olatry, or any other of the olatries in which her countrymen have been, from time immemorial, so ardent; but I know that when my charming friend once wanders away from her point, she never comes home again; so I said it was but nonsense—that she had, perhaps, better not inquire about it-and begged for her story of the shoe.

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Though it belongs to the feet, Milor Nash," said she, (smiling, as Lady Stepney does when she thinks she has been artful and witty,) "it has more relation to the head. La Marquise de Flescelles-'tis not the lady's real name, but no matter was the lady in Paris, who for years was the most courageous in carrying out (as your new jargon is) every idea to its extreme. Did any other lady wear two curls, she mounted three. Her panier would have sheltered three lovers, not one poor Abbé only, like that of Madame Fontgombault! And when it was the fancy to be coiffée in the grand style, so high did Madame de Flescelles go, that a charge was made of her (look here, Milor! and you will see that it is no conte bleu) having her tête powdered by a confidante and a page from the top of a ladder."

"Likely enough, Madame," said I. "I don't suspect you of blue tales, I assure you; and could I not show you caricatures of our English ladies, in the reign of spiderwaists, laced by main force?—and of macaronis. . . ."

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practical phrase from your English, n'est ce pas?)—having one evening wound no less than eleven ells of gauze into the téte of Madame la Princesse -, no matter who. But I am afraid, that after he had become popular, his inspiration left him, and he grew mechanical. This too often happens with persons of genius." And here, my dear friend, satisfied that she had said a profound thing, paused, that I might relish it properly; and, during the pause, looked up, and shed a tear, small, but elegant.

"Well," resumed the Récamier, "when Madame de Flescelles was dressed, one of her satin shoes-and a high-heeled shoe, too-was missing. Mlle. Justine had brought them both in, and particularly remembered having as usual, laid two or three rose-leaves in each,* ready for Madame to put them on,-or, perhaps, they might be that day poppy-leaves, from the vase on the table; for Madame was in that irritable state of nerves in which a narcotic may be found advantageous. However, only one shoe was to be found when the tête was finished. Of course Mlle. Justine laid the blame on Tonton; forgetting that Tonton was too well brought up to run away with any thing, save for his own table, and that, in his eating, as a well-brought-up Tonton should be-he was more difficile even than la Marquise herself. Take a toowell grown onion for Tonton's cotellettes à la soubise, which he was fond of, (provided the dish was not too often served,) and there was not a living creature about the house whom he would not bite-even his mistress herself!-No; Tonton it could not be.

"Well, dear Madame, what had become of the shoe? You put me on the rack," said I; knowing that the only way to bring the dear lady to an end, when she once begins to ramble, is by dramatising a little in the article of interest; and impatience.

The shoe?-Milor .... Where was I? -Going to tell you about Tonton and the avadavats-The shoe-where it was?—

Lest the Lady in the Elysian fields should be thought romancing, it may be proper seriously to adduce mundane testimony to inform the reader that a Madame Eglantine, of the ancien régime, well known in her day as a lady of fashion and fancy, would never put on her silk stockings till they had thus been furnished.-ED. L. C.

Dressed carefully up into the very middle | took a prominent part in the story I am of the tête of Madame la Marquise! And going to tell you. three weeks afterwards, when the whole machine was taken to pieces, for her hair to be cleaned, (Parlez-moi de ça-that was a business, Milor!) there was the very shoe -which Léonard, if it was he, had put there, in a fit of absence-safe, as if I have reason to be sure of it from a rather touching circumstance. Madame had the fancy of putting the locks of hair of her lovers into her diamond shoe-buckles, and there was one lock, just then, that she would have been more than usually sorry to lose-which led her, particularly, to recollect the circumstance."

BEAU NASH HIS GHOST.

Sergy was one of that description of young officers that the schools then frequently sent forth into the world; and, at first, he had to overcome some antipathy and many prejudices before he was liked by his comrades-but for this a very short time sufficed. His countenance was extremely pleasing; his manners were excessively refined and elegant; he possessed ready wit and brilliant imagination, and his bravery was undoubted. There was scarcely any accomplishment in which he did not excel, but his delicate and sensitive organization rendered him particularly alive to the charms of music. He would be filled with enthusiasm, and tears of emotion would start into his eyes on listening to an instrument touched by a skillful hand, or to a beautiful

CHATEAU GHISMONDO; OR, THE AP- voice, especially if it was a woman's voice,

PARITION.

FROM THE FRENCH.

ONE evening, when I was sitting with a party of friends at twilight, and several of them had related marvellous tales of haunted houses, witches, &c., I was called on in my turn to tell a ghost story, and was desired to think of one without unnecessary delay. "I shall find no difficulty in complying with your request," said I, "for I once witnessed the strangest apparition you can possibly imagine. But, observe, what I shall narrate is really no fiction; it is a simple fact, which I shall eventually explain." My friends drew their chairs eagerly towards me, and waited with considerable anxiety for me to commence my tale :

It was toward the latter part of the year 1812, when I was captain in the dragoons, that I garrisoned at Gironne, in the department du Ter. My colonel found it necessary to send me to Barcelona, where, on the day following Christmas-day, a marketcelebrated throughout Catalonia for the horses which it offered for sale-would be held as usual. He deemed it advisable that two lieutenants of our regiment should accompany me; the name of one was Sergy, that of the other Boutraix; they happened to be my particular friends. It will be as well for me to give you a slight sketch of the character of each of these men, as they

and that woman was pretty. His raptures were then frequently like those of a delirious person, and I really sometimes trembled for his reason. After what I have just said, you will very naturally imagine that Sergy's heart was particularly susceptible of love: indeed, I scarcely know when he was free from one of those violent passions, upon which the whole of a man's after-life would seem to depend. Fortunately, the exalted nature of his imagination kept him from any of the excesses of this passion. He sought for a mind as ardent as his own, with which he could entirely sympathize, and he was constantly deluding himself with the idea that he had at length met with a being perfectly suited to him; so that the idol of one day was cast off the next, when he found that she was without the charms with which his imagination had invested her. When he had arrived at the humiliating conviction that he had been mistaken, he was in the habit of remarking, that the unknown object of his wishes and hopes was not an inhabitant of the earth; but he still continued to seek, and, of course, to be deceived again, as he had been a thousand times, before. From his natural excitability and extraordinary sensitiveness, he was disposed to lend a ready ear to the marvellous: perhaps he was superstitious from the nature of his education; but, at any rate, his peculiar disposition rendered him still more so. His belief, therefore, in the imaginary mis

tress, which the world of spirits had destined for him, was not a mere freak of fancy-it formed the favorite subject of his thoughts and dreams.

Boutraix offered a complete contrast to Sergy. He was a tall, robust fellow. Like Sergy, however, in being full of humor, integrity, and bravery; but his features were commonplace, and his mind resembled his features. He could form no notion of that love which was the result of one mind sympathizing with another-the love of the head and heart, which was sufficient to influence a man's whole life, he believed it to be a pure creation of poets and novel-writers. He occasionally indulged himself in the love which he did understand, but he allowed it to occupy no more of his time than it merited. To the pleasures of the table he was not equally indifferent, and he was always the last to quit it; unless, indeed, there was a lack of wine. His intellectual life was composed of a very limited number of ideas: some of these were so completely fixed in his mind, that it was impossible to root them out. The difficulty he found in proving any thing by sound argument, induced him to deny every thing. Any conclusion which had been rationally drawn from belief or feeling, was treated by him as an absurdity. He would shrug his shoulders, and exclaim: “'Tis all fanaticism or prejudice!" if the person obstinately persisted in his opinion, he would then quietly lean on the back of his chair, and continue to whistle till the discussion had ended. Though he had never read more than two pages of Voltaire and Piron, whom he considered a philosopher, he believed himself perfectly acquainted with those authors, and quoted them on all occasions. But, with all his oddities, Boutraix was an excellent fellow, and, above all, a capital judge of horses.

As we were to choose our own conveyance to Barcelona, we resolved to avail ourselves of the arrieros (or carriers) which are to be seen in numbers at Gironne. We presumed too much, alas! on the idea that we should be able to meet with one whenever we wished. Christmas-eve, and the market which was to take place on the following day, drew numbers of travellers from all parts of Catalonia; and, unfortunately, we had waited till the very day for procuring a

vehicle. At eleven o'clock of that morning, we were still looking out for an arriero, and there was only one which we had a chance of securing, and that was just ready to start from the door.

"Curse your carriage and mules!" shouted Boutraix, who was mad with rage-and he seated himself on the shaft. "May all the devils of hell be let loose on your path! What! do you not now intend us to go by you?"

The arriero shook his head, and drew back a step or two.

"God have you in his holy keeping, Master Estevan," said I, with a smile; "have you any passengers ?"

"I certainly cannot correctly say that I have passengers, but I have one passenger," answered the arriero, "and he is the Seigneur Bascara, the manager of the theatre, who is going to join his company at Barcelona; he remained behind to accompany the baggage-I mean to say that portmanteau full of finery and gewgaws, which would scarcely furnish a load for a single donkey."

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Ah, ah! Master Estevan, nothing could happen better; for your carriage has room for four persons. The Seigneur Bascara will, I dare say, willingly allow us to pay our share of the journey, and he may pocket the money, for we shall say nothing about the arrangement. Be so good as to ask him if he will permit us to accompany him."

The

Bascara readily agreed to our proposal, and we started at noon from Gironne. morning was as beautiful a morning as could be expected at that time of the year; but we bad scarcely passed the last houses of the town before the light mists, which we had previously observed gathering in the sky, changed into a thick rain. This, in a short time, came down in such torrents, that the roads became very heavy and dangerous in parts, and at sunset we found ourselves a long distance from Barcelona. At length we reached Mattaro, where we resolved to sleep, simply because our equipage could go no farther; but, alas! there was no accommodation for us at the inn.

"Some fatality seems to pursue us on our journey," remarked the arriero, when he informed us of this misfortune. "There is actually no lodging left for us, except in the Château Ghismondo."

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