river, was the finest the writer had ever seen. All that has been said or written of the extraordinary healthiness of the place, had been borne out by experience; and Col. Wakefield believed that every temperate and well-conducted person in the Colony was entirely free from disease. The settlers on the Company's territory were on the most friendly terms with each other, and with the natives. This gratifying testimony of Col. Wakefield is entirely corroborated by the Hon. H. Petre, in his account of the first settlement of the New Zealand Company, recently published. Mr. Petre* refutes the mis-statements that have been so recklessly made, as to the want of provisions at the Company's first settlement; and he believes that never were the wants of the founders of a colony, so amply supplied from the beginning. Neither were the emigrants inconvenienced by the hostility of the natives; the numbers astonished them, and they used frequently to ask whether the whole tribe, meaning thereby all the people of England, had not come to Port Nicholson. The settlers employed the natives in shooting, fishing, hunting, cutting firewood, and building houses: at first, they were content to be paid with food only; but their wants increased by degrees, and they required various goods, as tobacco, clothing, and hardware. All this took place at the first squatting settlement on the banks of the Hutt; latterly, after the bulk of the settlers were established at Wellington, the natives had begun to require money-wages in return for their labour. One native resident at Wellington purchased a horse which had been imported from New South Wales, and used to let it out for hire; and another had an account with the Bank. Great numbers were in possession of money, which they usually carried about with them in a handkerchief tied round the neck. At first, the natives carried muskets, though apparently from mere habit: the settlers, however, never carried arms; the custom has now been quite abandoned by the natives of Port Nicholson; and they are gradually destroying the stockade defences of their villages. Mr. Petre states that with the exception of the hills facing the Strait, and the high land around Evans Bay, the hills about Port Nicholson are covered with the richest verdure to their summits, which are level; the soil is extremely rich, and their tops and sloping faces are used by the natives as potato-grounds. These hills have been surveyed and selected by persons having early orders of choice and, contrary to the first expectation, rich and fertile valleys have been discovered in every direction; so that the available land in the Port Nicholson district will be found sufficient to support a dense population. Horses, cattle, and sheep soon fatten when turned loose to shift for themselves: so untrue is the statement that herbage is rare at Port Nicholson. The best kinds of flax flourish here; and coal has been found. The climate is as salubrious as it is favourable to production; the temperature throughout the year being singularly equable. Mr. George Duppa, a gentleman settled at Wellington, states the soil and climate to be such as every English farmer would pray for: it is similar to that met with in Italy, and the south of France; and two crops may be realised in the course of the year off the same piece of land: he adds that he never saw land better fitted for the purposes of agriculture than that about Port Nicholson; it is certainly heavily timbered, but the expense of clearing it is not only made up for by the richness of the soil, which consists mostly of decayed vegetable matter, but by its proximity to the town. Mr. Bidwell, (late of Exeter,) now of Sydney, in his * Mr. Petre landed at Port Nicholson in February, 1840, and left in March, 1841; but to return. Rambles in New South Wales, considers that from all he has seen or heard of the different harbours of New Zealand, Port Nicholson is by far the best for the settlement of a new colony, not only from its geographical situation, but because the site of the town is much superior to any other that has been found in the country; and there is abundance of excellent land, sufficient for the employment of any amount of population there may be for twenty years to come. Port Nicholson has, at present, a population of between two and three thousand persons, among whom are many of high family connexions and respectability from England, who have taken considerable capital with them, and a consequent demand for labour.* The newlyappointed Bishop of New Zealand already contemplates, with the co-operation of the Company, the establishment of a Seminary, at Wellington, upon the plan of the Poor Law Commissioners' School, at Norwood, for the education and general training of the children of the natives, in order to raise them to an equal rank of knowledge and conduct with the children of the corresponding classes of emigrants. They will thus, it is hoped, be preserved from that collision which might otherwise take place, to the grievous loss and suffering of the weaker party, between the rude violence of the aboriginal tribes, and the giant strength of a civilised community."+ 66 We shall scarcely be expected to point out the appropriation of the several dwellings in the portion of the Town of Wellington shown in the Engraving. Commencing from the left, the buildings are storehouses and residences of the most influential settlers; the two storied erection, nearly in the centre, is Barrett's Hotel, opposite which is the temporary Exchange and Library; and in the harbour lie vessels of various nations, as American and Chilian, besides the New Zealand Company's barques, settlers' cutters, schooners, &c. A mere glance at the New Zealand harbours will point out these islands as the natural seat of a maritime population, and an excellent position for a vast trade; which last would supply in its maturity, as in its progress it had engendered, the wants of millions at present strangers to the civilizing influence of commerce. Whether we look at Port Nicholson, and Cloudy Bay, in the centre, to the Bay of Islands on the north-east coast, or to Kaipara harbour on the west, we are warranted in saying that ports of greater security and convenience are not to be found in the world; and already, in the several harbours, not less than 400 vessels are supposed to lie at anchor in the course of twelve months. Well has this beautiful country been designated the Britain of the South; and, in the words of Captain Fitzroy," it corresponds in that hemisphere to Great Britain in our hemisphere; it must go on holding out temptations to settlers of all descriptions." It may be interesting to state that the distance from England to Port Nicholson is 13,200 miles, and the usual time of the voyage 120 days; from Port Nicholson to England 14,000 miles; 100 days. "In the not improbable event of the establishment of regular steam-communication across the Atlantic I am at this moment residing with Mr. Molesworth, brother of Sir William Molesworth, Bart.; and among a host of respectable settlers, who give a high moral tone to society here, I may name Petre, son of Lord Petre; Sinclair, brother or son of Sir George Sinclair; Dorset, Wakefield, Hopper, Partridge, Bruce, Scot, Hobson, Mantell, Hunter, Majoribanks, Biggs, Jones, Lloyd, &c."-Bidwell's Rambles, &c. How to Colonise: the Interest of the Country, and the Duty of the Government. By Ross D. Mangles, Esq. M.P. Several of the above facts have also been derived from Information relative to New Zealand. By John Ward, Esq. Secretary to the New Zealand Company. New Zealand Almanac for 1842. and Pacific Oceans, with land passage by railway over the Isthmus of Darien, it is easy to foresee that the voyage from England to New Zealand may be reduced at no distant day to the compass of a few weeks."* With such powerful means and appliances, let us hope that civilization and Christianity may progress "Even till the smallest habitable rock, Beaten by lonely billows, hear the sound With civil arts that send their fragrance forth, Wordsworth's Excursion, Book vi. A MAIDEN'S LOVE. BY THE HONOURABLE D. G. OSBORNE. A MAIDEN's love is like the flower, That in some lone sequestered bower, A maiden's heart is like the bower, Embosomed holds that gentle flower, Then comes the storm, in some dark hour, SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. A SKETCH. to observe how every object which attracted our attention, exhibited their respective peculiarities in a new and entertaining light. Sense entered into a learned discussion on the nature of a plant, while Sensibility talked enchantingly of the fading of its flower. From Matilda we had a rapturous eulogium upon the surrounding scenery; from Emily we derived much information relative to the state of its cultivation. When we listened to the one, we seemed to be reading a novel, but a clever and an interesting novel; when we turned to the other, we found only real life, but real life in its most pleasant and engaging form. Suddenly one of those rapid storms which so frequently disturb for a time the tranquillity of the finest weather, appeared to be gathering over our heads. Dark clouds were driven impetuously over the clear sky, and the refreshing coolness of the atmosphere was changed to a close and overpowering heat. Matilda looked up in admiration; Emily in alarm: Sensibility was thinking of a landscape; Sense of a wet pelisse."This would make a fine sketch," said the first: "We had better make haste," said the second. The tempest continued to grow gloomier above us; we passed a ruined hut which had been long deserted by its inhabitants. Suppose we take refuge here for the evening," said Morris; "It would be very romantic," said Sensibility: "It would be very disagreeable," said Sense. "How it would astonish my father!" said the heroine: "How it would alarm him!" said her sister. 66 As yet we had only observed distant prognostics of the tumult of the elements which was about to take place. Now, however, the collected fury of the storm burst at once upon us. A long and bright flash of lightning, together with a continued roll of thunder, accompanied one of the heaviest rains that we have ever experienced. "We shall have an adventure," cried Matilda: "We shall be very late," observed Emily. "I wish we were a hundred miles off," said the one, hyperbolically; "I wish we were at home," replied the other, soberly. "Alas! we shall never get home to-night," sighed Sensibility pathetically; "Possibly," returned Sense drily. The fact was, that the eldest of the sisters was quite calm, although she was aware of all the inconveniences of their situation; and the youngest was terribly frightened, although she began quoting poetry. There was another, and a brighter flash; another, and a louder peal :—Sense quickened her steps, THE Misses Lowrie, of whom we are about to give our readers an account, are both young, both handsome, both amiable: nature made the outline of their characters the same; but education has varied the colouring. Their mother died almost before they were able to profit by her example or instruction. Emily, the eldest of the sisters, was brought up under the immediate care of her father. He was a man of strong and temperate judgment, obliging to his neighbours, and affectionate to his children; but certainly rather calcu-Sensibility fainted. lated to educate a son than a daughter. Emily profited With some difficulty, and not without the aid of a conveyabundantly by his assistance, as far as moral duties or literary ance from a neighbouring farmer, we brought our companions accomplishments were concerned; but for all the lesser agré-in safety to their father's door. We were of course received mens of society, she had nothing to depend upon but the suggestions of a kind heart and a quiet temper. Matilda, on the contrary, spent her childhood in England, at the house of a relation; who, having imbibed her notions of propriety at a fashionable boarding-school, and made a love-match very early in life, was but ill prepared to regulate a warm disposition, and check a natural tendency to romance. The consequence has been such as might have been expected. Matilda pities the distressed, and Emily relieves them; Matilda has more of the love of the neighbourhood, although Emily is more entitled to its gratitude; Matilda is very agreeable, while Emily is very useful; and two or three old ladies, who talk scandal over their tea, and murder grammar and reputations together, consider Matilda a practised heroine, and laugh at Emily as an inveterate blue. The incident which first introduced us to them, afforded us a tolerable specimen of their different qualities. While on a long pedestrian excursion with Morris Gowan, we met the two ladies returning from their walk; and, as our companion had already the privileges of an intimate acquaintance, we became their companions. An accurate observer of human manners knows well how decisively character is marked by trifles, and how wide is the distinction which is frequently made by circumstances apparently the most insignificant. In spite, therefore, of the similarity of age and person which existed between the two sisters, the first glance at their dress and manner, the first tones of their voice, were sufficient to distinguish the one from the other. It was whimsical enough Information relative to New Zealand, &c. 4th edition. with an invitation to remain under shelter till the weather should clear up; and of course we felt no reluctance to accept the offer. The house was very neatly furnished, principally by the care of the two young ladies; but here again the diversity of their manners showed itself very plainly. The useful was produced by the labour of Emily; the ornamental was the fruit of the leisure hours of Matilda. The skill of the former was visible in the sofa-covers and the curtains; but the latter had decorated the card-racks, and painted the roses of the hand-screens. The neat little book-cases, too, which contained their respective libraries, suggested a similar remark. In that of the eldest we observed our native English worthies,-Milton, Shakspeare, Dryden, and Pope: on the shelves of her sister reclined the more effeminate Italians,Tasso, Ariosto, Metastasio, and Petrarch. It was a delightful thing to see two amiable beings with tastes so widely different, yet with hearts so closely united. It is not to be wondered at that we paid a longer visit than we had originally intended. The storm now died away in the distance, and a tranquil evening approached. We set out on our return. The old gentleman, with his daughters, accompanied us a small part of the way. The scene around us was beautiful; the birds and the cattle seemed to be rejoicing in the return of the sunshine: and every herb and leaf had derived a brighter tint from the rain-drops with which it was spangled. As we lingered for a few moments by the side of a beautiful piece of water, the mellowed sound of a flute was conveyed to us over its clear surface. The instrument was delightfully played at such an hour, on such a spot, and with such companions, we could have listened to it for ever. "That is George Mervyn," said Morris to us. "How very clever he is!" exclaimed Matilda; | "How very imprudent!" replied Emily. "He will catch all the hearts in the place," said Sensibility, with a sigh: "He will catch nothing but a cold," said Sense, with a shiver. We were reminded that our companions were running the same risk, and we parted from them reluctantly. We have left, but not forgotten you, beautiful creatures! Often, when we are sitting in solitude, with a peu behind our ear, and a proof before our eyes, you come, hand in hand, to our imagination. Some, indeed, enjoin us to prefer esteem to fascination;-to write sonnets to Sensibility, and to look for a wife in Sense. These are the suggestions of age; perhaps, of prudence. We are young, and may be allowed to shake our heads as we listen."-The Etonian. ARCHERY. To save his own and Albert's life, Tell is to shoot an apple from the head Of his own child. WILLIAM TELL. In the early ages of chivalry, the usage of the bow was considered as an essential part of the education of a young man who wished to make a figure in life. Hence the practice of archery, not only became a portion of the education of the above times, but skill in the art was deemed an accomplishment of "the compleat gentleman." The implements of archery are the arbalest, or crossbow, and the long-bow, and their respective arrows. Our ancestors used the latter for a double purpose: in time of war it was a dreadful instrument of destruction; and in peace it became an object of amusement. The AngloSaxons and the Danes were certainly well acquainted with the use of the bow; and in a manuscript of the tenth century is preserved a representation of a Saxon long-bow and arrow. And the Normans generally diffused the practice of archery throughout the kingdom. They, however, used the cross-bow at the battle of Hastings; and this weapon appears to have been last used in our army at the battle of Bosworth, in 1485. From the reign of Edward II. the mention of the longbow becomes frequent in our history. At Crécy, at Poictiers, and at Agincourt, as well as in several battles which were gained over the Scotch, the victory is ascribed to the English bowmen. according to Stow, "it was customary [at Bartholomewtide for the lord mayor, with the sheriff's fand aldermen, to go into the fields at Finsbury, where the citizens were assembled, and shoot at the standard with broad and flight arrows, for games." The Artillery Company, known also as the Archers of Finsbury, and formed in the time of Edward I., were incorporated in this reign. Archery now became a fashionable amusement. Edward VI. was fond of the exercise: in his journal, he records that one hundred archers of his guard shot, before him, two arrows each, and afterwards, all together; and that they shot at an inch board, which some pierced quite through with the heads of their arrows. In this reign, the scholars of St. Bartholomew, who held their disputations in the cloister of Christ's Hospital, were rewarded with a bow and silver arrows. An act of parliament, in Elizabeth's reign, regulated the price of bows; and we read of the maiden Queen's skill in archery. In this reign, toe, lived Roger Ascham, an author well versed in archery, and whose name is given to one of the equipments of the art. Charles I. was an excellent archer, and forbade by proclamation the enclosure of the shooting-fields near London. Public exhibitions of shooting with the bow were continued in the reigns of King Charles II. and King James II.; and an archers' division, till within these few years, formed a branch of the Artillery Company. About 1753, targets were erected in Finsbury Fields during the Easter and Whitsuntide holidays, when the best shooter was styled "Captain" for the ensuing year, and the second " Lieutenant." In 1789, the revival of archery as a general amusement, was attempted under the patronage of the then Prince of Wales; and societies of bowmen, or toxophilites, were formed throughout the kingdom, many of which printed their rules and orders. In the present century, similar attempts have been made, especially in Somerset, Berkshire, Essex, and Suffolk; and archery societies exist in the neighbourhood of London; one having shooting-grounds in the Regent's Park. The most important society of this kind now existing, is "The Royal Company of Archers, the Queen's body-guard of Scotland," stated to have been instituted in the reign of their James I., when a commission being appointed to enforce the exercise of archery in that kingdom, the most expert bowmen were selected as a body-guard for the king Archery appears to have been first practised as a pastime on perilous occasions; and in 1677, a sum of money was in the reign of Edward III., when an act of parliament was granted for a piece of plate to be shot for as a prize; passed, that holidays should be spent in recreations with though no permanent royal prize was established till bows and arrows. Richard II. and Edward IV. made 1788, when King George III. granted one to be shot for similar ordinances: the latter, that every Englishman, and annually. During the Revolution of 1688, the Royal Irishman dwelling in England, should have a long-bow of Company, being opposed to the principles then espoused, his own height, to be made of yew, wych, hazel, ash, or were all but suppressed: but they were revived by Queen awburne, or any other reasonable tree; and that butts Anne, in 1703, and received a royal charter, confirming all should be set up at every township, at which the inhabitants their former rights, and conferring new privileges. They were to shoot upon all feast-days, or be fined one half- acted as body-guard to King George IV. on his visit to penny for each omission. In the reign of Henry VII, all Scotland in 1822: the captain-general has since been the gardens in Finsbury were destroyed by law," and of appointed goldstick for Scotland, and the Royal Company them was made a plain field for archers to shoote in," this now forms part of the household. The Company now being the origin of what is now called "the Artillery consists of about five hundred members: the field uniform Ground." Henry VIII. prohibited the use of the cross- is of dark green cloth, faced with black braiding, with a bow, and made several laws in favour of the long-bow; narrow stripe of crimson velvet in the centre. The hat is enjoining that each householder should have a bow and of the same colour, with a handsome medallion, and a arrows continually in his house, and provide bows and plume of black feathers. They have two standards: new arrows for his servants and children. Henry shot as well colours, and a confirmation of the Royal Company to be as any of his guards; he chartered a society for shooting, the royal body-guard for Scotland, were given to them by and jocosely dignified a successful archer as Duke of King William IV. At the coronation of Queen Victoria, Shoreditch, at which place the man resided. This dignity the Duke of Buccleuch, as captain-general, rode in the was long preserved by the captain of the London Archers, royal procession: his grace wore a green velvet costume, who used to summon the officers of his several divisions by and the collar and star of the Order of the Garter; he was the titles of the Marquises of Barlow, Clerkenwell, Isling-mounted on a superbly caparisoned charger, and carried ton, Hoxton, Earl of Pancras, &c. In this reign, too, his gold stick of office. Archery, as a branch of school amusements, existed at Harrow within the last seventy years. In the original regulations of the school, date 1590, the only amusements allowed are, "driving a top, tossing a hand ball, and shooting." For this latter exercise, all parents were required to furnish their children "with bowstrings, shafts, and breasters." An annual exhibition of archery was held on August 4, when the scholars shot for a silver prize arrow. The last arrow was contended for in 1771; since which period public speeches have been substituted. "Who can analyse and explain, though all can recognise, the charm of the true poetic soul, accompanying that dream of beauty and tenderness, which will be found in this wild dirge, with its fanciful double burden?" THE dew falls fast, and the night is dark, From bridge to bridge with tremulous fall As it washeth the base of a pleasant hall They stand so still and they look so wise, More shadowy than the shade they cast It keepeth its secrets down below,- Like stars from the casements of yonder hall ; From bridge to bridge with tremulous fall As it washeth the base of a pleasant hall O Mary! Mary! could I but hear What this river saith in night's still ear, And catch the faint whispering voice it brings It might tell of the spot where the greybeard's spade It keepeth its secrets down below,- For death was born in thy blood with life,-- As it washeth the base of a pleasant hall And the wild wan smile,-all spoke of death 'Twas o'er thy harp, one day in June, From bridge to bridge with tremulous fall As it washeth the base of a pleasant hall But my brain was hot, and my heart was cold; I never wept, and I never spake, But stood like a rock where the salt seas break; O'er my blighted love and my chosen's bier. It keepeth its secrets down below,― I stood in the church with burning brow, The lips of the priest moved solemn and slow; I noted each pause, and counted each swell, From bridge to bridge with tremulous fall As it washeth the base of a pleasant hall And fishes and beasts and all fleshly things, And the spheres did whirl with laughter and mirth The river is green, and runneth slow, It keepeth its secrets down below,- The dew falls fast, and the night is dark; The festal lights have all died out, And nought is heard but a lone owl's shout. From bridge to bridge with tremulous fall As it washeth the base of a pleasant hall MEMOIR OF THE LATE SIR FRANCIS CHANTREY, R.A. (Concluded from Page 71.) IN 1819, Chantrey exhibited his sitting figure of Dr. Anderson, for Madras, perhaps the best of all his statues; and a bust of Mr. Canning, for Mr. Bolton of Liverpool. The same year in company with Jackson, the painter, R.A. he extended his acquaintance with ancient and Italian art beyond the treasures of the Louvre and the spoils of Napoleon. On his return to England, Chantrey was made the confidential bearer, by Lord Byron, of that so much talked of autobiographical memoir, a gift to his friend T. Moore, esq. which the latter sold for a thousand guineas to John Murray, but was said to have been afterwards burnt. may give it all the finish that it wants. We wish that the same could be said of the two statues on one bench of those noble brothers by birth and genius, Lords Eldon and Stowell; or of the statue of Dr. Goodall, for Eton, or the Marquess Wellesley, for the India House. Mr. Henry Weekes, who has for some years executed a large portion of the work of Chantrey's atelier, will be fully competent to complete his unfinished works. Mr. Allan Cunningham, who originally filled the humble office of rough-hewer of marble, and up to the present time was occupied with the bu produce of his leisure hours solely-has been with Sir Francis twenty-eight years; and Mr. Heffernan, who has cut in marble almost every one of Chantrey's busts, literally from the first to the last, has been engaged during thirty years. On his return from the Continent, Chantrey modelled four of his very finest busts, viz. those of Lord Castlereagh, Mr. Phillips, the painter, Mr. Wordsworth, and Sir Walter Scott.siness of the studio-his numerous literary effusions being the Chantrey never excelled this bust-it is his very best; the best, perhaps, in either ancient or modern art. The man and the genius of the man are both there. It appears that he had sought at first, like Lawrence, for a poetic expression, and had modelled the head as looking upwards gravely and solemnly. "This," he said to Mr. Allan Cunningham, when Scott had left after his second sitting, "this will never doI shall never be able to please myself with a perfectly serene expression. I must try his conversational look-take him when about to break out into some sly, funny old story." As he said this, he took a string, cut off the head of the bust, put it into its present position, and produced, by a few happy touches, that bust which alone preserves for posterity the cast of Scott's expression-the most fondly remembered by all who ever mingled in his domestic circle. In 1822 he exhibited his bust of George IV.; in 1824 his bust of the Duke of Welllngton, his first statue of Watt, and the statue of Dr. Cyril Jackson, erected in Oxford; in 1826, his statues of Grattan and Washington, the one for Dublin, the other for Boston; in 1827, his statue of Sir Joseph Banks, now in the British Museum; in 1828, a bust of Sir William Curtis; in 1829, a statue of Sir Edward Hyde East, for Calcutta, the parting of Hector and Andromache, and Penelope with the bow of Ulysses (now at Woburn), and a bust of the Marquess of Stafford, now in the British Institution; in 1830, a bust of Sir John Soane, and Heber blessing two Hindoo girls, now at Madras; in 1831, busts of William IV. and the Duke of Sussex; in 1832, his statue of Canning, for the Town Hall, Liverpool; in 1833, his statue of Mountstuart Elphinstone, for Bombay; in 1837, his statue of Sir John Malcolm, for Westminster Abbey, that of Dr. Dalton, for Manchester, and busts of Southey the poet (for John Murray), Mrs. Somerville (for the Royal Academy), and Professor Wilson, of Oxford (for Calcutta); in 1840, busts of the Queen and Sir Charles Clarke, his statue of Roscoe, for Liverpool, and of Northcote for Exeter; in 1841, (the last he lived to honour and adorn), his statues of Bishop Bathurst and Bishop Ryder, for their respective cathedrals of Norwich and Lichfield. When the Marquess Camden was elected Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, Chantrey was made an honorary M.A. and be received from William IV. the honour of knighthood, in 1835. A baronetcy was offered him, but refused, on the ground that he had no one to succeed him in the honour. This was in 1836. He had returned the day before his death (November 25), from a visit to Lord Leicester, at Holkham, and from erecting his fine statue of Bishop Bathurst, in Norwich Cathedral. On the day of his death, he looked over letters and accounts, gave his orders, and inspected with the greatest interest the progress that was making in the Wellington equestrian statue. At half-past five, when it was raw and foggy, he imprudently ventured out for a walk. He had gone but half a mile, when he was forced to return in the greatest bodily pain. His medical attendant at once readily relieved him, and he said that he felt better, and would be glad of his dinner. This he had, and he ate sparingly, as his medical attendant had advised him. It was at this time that the arrival of two friends was announced, and on his expressing an anxiety to see them, they were shown in were he was sitting, but entered only to witness the last moments of their friend. He fell back in his chair with a heavy respiration, and expired that instant without a word or a recognition. An inquest was held the next day, when a verdict was returned that he died from a spasm of the heart. This, when his body was opened by Sir Benjamin Brodie, was found the case; his brain was healthy, but a partial ossification of the heart had taken place. Sir Francis Chantrey was about five feet seven inches high, of a stout make, and one of the most active and vigorous men of his time, but latterly inclined to corpulence. His bead and face were very fine; his eyes round and lustrous, one useless for vision, but in no way apparently different from its fellow. He had been bald from an early age. His voice was agreeable, his conversation humorous and sarcastic by turns, and always animated. He had mixed much with the world, and knew it better by experience than by books. He had that happy and rare art of learning from conversation what others sought for in books and in study. “England," wrote Mr. Cunningham, fifteen years ago, (Quarterly Review for June, 1826), "may be justly proud of Chantrey; his works reflect style but that of nature, and no works of any age or country but his own can claim back any inspiration which they have lent him. He calls up no shapes from antiquity; be gives us no established visions of the past; the moment he breathes in is his; the beauty and the manliness which live and move around him are his materials, and he embodies them for the gratification of posterity.""In all these works," says the same excellent authority, "we admire a subordinate beauty -a decorous and prudent use of modern dress. All its characteristic vulgarities are softened down or concealed. There is no aggravation of tassels, no projection of buttons." It would be well if all sculptors would recollect and imitate this. Besides these works, exhibited at the Royal Academy, we have to add his statues of Francis Horner, James Watt, and Sir Stamford Raffles, in Westminster Abbey; of General Gillespie, in St. Paul's Cathedral; of Spencer Perceval, at Northampton; of Mr. Wildman, at Chilham Castle, near Canter. bury; of President Blair and Lord Melville, in Edinburgh; of Mrs. Jordan, for the late King; of Sir Charles Forbes, for Bombay; besides a bust of Sir Robert Peel, an excellent likeness; and a bust, the last he lived to execute, of Lord Mel-back her image as a mirror; he has formed his taste on no bourne, for the Queen. In St. Paul's Cathedral, besides the statue of General Gillespie, are monuments, in alto-relievo tablets, to General Houghton, Major-Gen. Bowes, and Colonel Cadogan. These, from the number of the figures, are completely historical pictures in stone, and certainly show no want of invention in designing, where required. A beautiful statue of Marianne, only daughter of Johnes, of Hafod, the translator of Froissart, was allowed to remain in the hands of the artist, in consequence of the calamity which overwhelmed the father. This is a very incomplete list of his marble progeny. Of his statues in bronze, there are those of George IV. at Brighton and in Edinburgh; of Pitt, in Edinburgh and in Hanoverquare, London; of Sir Thomas Munro, on horseback, at Matras; of George IV. on horseback; and an equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington, for the City of London. This last, though incomplete, is, we are happy to say, left in that advanced state by its great artist, that an ordinary workman Among Chantrey's early Sheffield friends was the late Ebenezer Rhodes, the author of Peak Scenery, towards the illustration of which elegant work Chantrey gratuitously contributed a series of beautiful views, about twenty-five in num ber. It contains a memoir of Chantrey, stating that, "it was |