the vestry, are grand, rich, elaborate ;-not too pictorial—not too formal. The Krabeths (or the artists who planned these "glassen," which they stained) knew precisely how far design might go,-how far their task was artistic,-how far decorative. Later, the two characteristics have been somewhat too thoughtlessly confounded. A few days after we were admiring this gorgeous Krabeth ware, we were standing before the new windows in the Cathedral of Cologne, from the Munich furnaces of MM. Hess and Ainmüller; in the central portions of which the direct emulation of pictures has been attempted. But the latter do not get beyond a consummate copy on an oiled silk blind,-the distances will not retreat, the shadows have an unreal, transparent look; the flesh does not resemble life or natural texture so closely as the impasto of a china-plate. One is perpetually reminded by what is done of what no magic can ever effect.

It was not thus with the ancients. Easy within inevitable limits, they had leisure to give themselves up to the perfect execution of what was practicable. Grand single figures there are of Saints, and Bishops, and Magi, and Kings; magnificent groups of the personages of Scripture; but disposed and composed without the slightest idea of touching upon the painter's province, or evading the conditions of window-art, which are transparency, universal brilliancy, and that minute, subdividing framework which is not to be got rid of. And, what colours came out of the Krabeth crucibles! The richest of flowers, the most lustrous of jewels-amethyst, topaz, ruby, garnet, emerald- might have been molten there; also bright gold and starry silver (the episodical touches, so to say, of pure glass, being most artfully arranged, so as to produce the lustrous effect of the diamond). The very brown used in one or two of the designs (where caverns, &c., or buildings are represented) by way of shade tint, is no sad and heavy hue of earths and oils-but rich, warm, and clean, foiling the primitive colours without sombreness or indecision; making no pretext at any such dimness, or blending of effect, as are indispensable in a picture where to imitate nature and reality-be it ever so poetically or conventionally is the artist's first object. What is excellent, too, in these gorgeous windows, is their harmony one with the other. Be it accident or intention, in spite of inequalities in their execution, there is a consonance and agreement in the general effect, such as (to illustrate from the most redoubtable modern example) the new Bavarian "glasses" in the Cathedral of Cologne do not shew. There, one might be called the pink and yellow window; another, the scarlet and blue one; thus making patches, each arresting the gazer by some salient colour, by which his eye counts its way unpleasantly,—a process at variance with those vague ideas of space which it is peculiarly the duty of Gothic architecture and decoration to engender and multiply. At Gouda the coup d'œil is that of a superb and brilliant garland, so cunningly arranged, that no one flower is prominent. This I take to be the triumph of glass-staining as an adjunct to architecture.

I wish I were satisfied that due care is taken of these treasures. A huge patch of greenish-white, abruptly cutting in half "Philip, King of England's" glas, tells its tale to the contrary. These perishable works merely exist per favour of weather; since it was a hailstorm which made the ravage I speak of, for the reparation of which there are no funds forthcoming. Did the purple and the gold, and the velvet-rose colour of the Krabeth palette exist in

any living laboratory, I do not know whether Gouda has its Captain Clutterbucks, who care for art and antiquity-as well as its Blue Coats and Brass Medals, the to-be-feared conservators of public order. But, if I belonged to the place, I should tremble with anxious thoughts in my bed, and over my pipe, every time the wind began to blow and the rain to fall, so long as the pride of my town remained so defenceless,-with that raw, naked, flaring piece of ruin before my eyes! And the rain can fall, be it noted, in Holland, "as if the world were drowned,”—and as if the whole Low Countries, must needs give the battle up, and be splashed down, full fathom five, into the mud of canal, and river, and sea!-But I fancy that the gentry of the land may be more solicitous about their dykes and houses than the intelligent preservation of their glories of Art.

So much for "the Glasses" of Gouda. Let me add, that we were there on a lucky day, since it chanced that a ceremony, well worth assisting at for once, was held in the church: to wit, the distribution of prizes to the pupils of an academy, seminary, or college (which is the proper word in Dutch I can't tell). It was a weighty business: the poor boys-or young gentlemen-being preached upon for a good hour by one of those robust and inveterate cushion-thumpers who seem to have a monopoly of the pulpits here; and the cadences of whose voices are so particularly "dis-engaging" (as puts it). How they yawned, sneezed, made faces at each other, and enacted similar indiscretions, may be imagined. After the lecture, the organ gave out a few bars; and then a worshipful person, whose gifts in the article of shoe-buckles were astounding, addressed each fortunate youth in Latin, presented him with the book or other treasure awarded to him, and awaited the thanks of the alumnus thus distinguished. A few officers were among the bystanders; and a lady or two-in particular an old one, who, in her stiff fraise and black dress, was precisely the Old Lady whom Rembrandt has so often and again painted. The whole solemnity was something tiresome, but homeish; and as such, a sight not bad to see in one of the churches or Holland. By the time that the show was over, it was time also to step on board the slow lubberly steamer which took us back to Rotterdam having earned a good appetite, among the other deeds and gains of a pleasantly full morning.

THE DREAMER.

THROUGH the shadow'd chamber floateth faint perfume of flowers,
Perchance they breathe mysteriously of life in happier hours;
For o'er the sleeper's pallid face a glimpse of sunshine stealeth,
O'er trickling tears and gentle smiles as patiently she dreameth.

She waketh with the morning light-the night stars shine no more—
And so she opeth lingeringly her quiet chamber-door;

Afraid to break the spell which stern realities destroy-
Afraid to lose 'mid daily cares that dream of hope and joy.

But no, it fadeth not away, and time shall leave a trace,
Which future weal or future woe may never more efface;
She only sayeth that to her revealments sweet were given,

'Twere well that life own'd no such bliss, or earth were too near heaven!

But what the dream her throbbing heart hath locked up in its cell,
How blest and bright those communings, what human tongue can tell?
She moveth softly on her way, foldeth her hands in prayer-
From spirit-land the message came, in thought she dwelleth there.

C.A. M. W

PARA; OR, SCENES AND ADVENTURES ON THE

BANKS OF THE AMAZON.

BY J. E. WARREN.

Regions immense, unsearchable, unknown,

Bask in the sunshine of the torrid zone.-MONTGOMERY.

CHAPTER XIII.

Superstition of the Islanders.-Romantic Story.-The "Belles" of Jungcal.Evening Salutations.-Skirmish in the Water.-An Angling Adventure.-An unexpected Bath.-The Fish-ox.—Moschitoes and Chigoes.-A dentical Operation. Sickness of Teresa.-We cure her.-Our advance in popularity.—Last Night at Jungcal.

THE natives at Jungcal were egregiously superstitious, and firmly believed in the existence of ghosts, hobgoblins, evil spirits, and all kinds of supernatural apparitions. Their legends and stories were of the wildest character, and at night, during the fine starlight evenings, they were accustomed to entertain us with their narration. Under other circumstances, these simple tales might have been regarded by us as totally devoid of interest, but at that time we listened to them with the sincerest attention; for everything around and about us was so dream-like, that the stories, although absurd and improbable when submitted to our understanding, were nevertheless quite interesting and pleasing when viewed by our imagination alone.

They told us of beauteous shades, who wandered by midnight through the groves of the island, and whose melodious voices, sweeter than the notes of the nightingale, were frequently heard emanating from the darkness of the clustering foliage. They spoke also of aquatic spirits, whose phantom canoes were often seen by starlight sailing down the rippling streamlet.

There was one story, which we heard repeated many times, and always with the assurance that it was perfectly true. It was told substantially as follows:-

On a pleasant afternoon, not more than ten years since, a young lad, of about eight years of age, was observed frolicking by himself on the meadow before the cottages, and running up and down the margin of the stream. Little heed was taken at the time of his motions, but some two hours afterwards, when he was desired, he was not to be found. It was now within half an hour of sunset, and, as may be conjectured, a certain degree of uneasiness and anxiety began to be felt respecting the fate of the child; and these apprehensions were quickened into alarm when the horsemen, who went out into the campo in all directions to seek for him, returned without having discovered the slightest clue to his extraordinary disappearance.

The parents of the boy were wild with grief, and believed that their child had fallen into the stream, and had either been drowned or eaten up by alligators. Some intimated that he had been spirited away by goblins, and this opinion finally obtained an ascendancy over all other surmises that were advanced.

An awful stillness brooded over Jungcal on the evening of that fatal

day, unbroken by the merry laugh of the natives, or the tinkling of their rude guitars. The silence of the sepulchre could not have been more profound.

After a dreary and sleepless night, morning at length came as a solace to the hearts of the bereaved parents; but what mortal pen can paint the intensity of joy which animated their bosoms, when they beheld their lost and lamented boy, whom they had wept for as dead, calmly sleeping on the green sward before them, sheltered only by the azure canopy of heaven!

As

Overcome with delight, each in turn clasped the wanderer to their bosom, and then bore him in triumph to their own habitation. soon as he had recovered his consciousness he gazed wildly about him, as if just awakened from a wondrous dream. On being asked where he had been, he told a strange story of having been accosted, as he was walking along near the bank of the stream, by a party of beautiful women in a curious canoe, who carried him forcibly with them far away up the stream. They then conveyed him to a "little paradise" in the heart of the forest, where he was surrounded by hundreds of charming maidens, with long dark hair, which fell in dishevelled folds almost to the ground. The fairy damsels, he said, crowned him with garlands of flowers, offered him various kinds of sweetmeats, and nearly smothered him with their honeyed kisses and endearing caresses. At last, on his beseeching it, they brought him, back to the very spot. from which he had been taken. This marvellous account (which was undoubtedly a dream) was strictly believed by the simple-minded natives, whose unsophisticated minds could not conceive any other satisfactory cause for his mysterious departure and absence.

Among our olive-complexioned neighbours were two young girls, whose fine forms and pretty faces especially elicited our admiration. The one was named Teresa, the other Florana. The former could not have been more than fourteen years of age, and was rather short in stature, with exquisitely rounded arms, and a bust already of noble development; the latter was somewhat taller, and at least three years older; they had both, however, attained their full size. Animated as they were beautiful, they were always overflowing with vivacity and life; their conversation, which was incessant, was like the chirping of nightingales, and their laughter, like strings of musical pearls. These then, beloved reader, were, during our stay at least, decidedly the belles of Jungcal.

At the close of every day we were visited by all the juveniles in the place, who, in their own sweet tongue, bade us " adieus," and at the same time besought our blessing, which latter request we only answered, by patting them gently on the head.

The pretty maidens we have just alluded to, instead of shaking hands with us, were accustomed to salute us at eventide with a kiss on either cheek. The propriety of this we at first doubted, but the more we reflected upon the sweetness and innocence of the damsels, the more inclined were we to pardon them; and in fact, we finally began to think their manner much more sensible and agreeable than that of those who consider anything beyond cold and formal shaking of hands a grievous sin. Besides, it must be borne in mind, that this was a sacred custom of the place, which it would have been considered

great rudeness in us to have resisted. Therefore, kind reader, do not judge us too severely; for know, O chary one! that extreme bashfulness and modesty have always been considered two of our principal failings!

One day Teresa and Florana invited us to take a bathe with them in the stream. This we declined point-blank. They then charged us with fear of alligators. This was a poser: our courage was now called in question, and we were literally forced to submit. Pray what else could we have done under the circumstances?

When they had once got us into the water they took ample revenge upon us for the uncourteous manner with which we had at first treated their request. As we were encumbered by our clothes, they had altogether the advantage, and, in less than ten minutes, we cried out lustily for quarter, but no quarter would they give us, and, to tell the truth, we were somewhat apprehensive of being drowned by them, to say nothing of being devoured by blood-thirsty alligators.

Emerging from the water, we walked up to Anzevedo's cottage, revolving in our minds the severe ordeal through which we had just passed, and determining henceforth never to refuse any request, sweetened by the lips of a pretty maiden, unless, perchance, (though highly improbable,) she should ask us for our heart! which, alas! we have not to give.

To variegate our amusements, we occasionally indulged in angling. My success, however, with the gun was seldom equalled by that of the rod. One afternoon, I remember, we repaired to an adjacent brook to procure a few delicate little fishes for supper. The spot was singularly beautiful. On either side of the stream was a semicircular area of ground, covered only by a mantle of velvety grass, dotted here and there with flowering bushes. The surrounding trees were of a prodigious height, and, with their bending tops, formed a canopy of the most lively verdure. Their trunks were interlaced together by an infinity of running vines, and their loftiest branches richly decorated with parasitic flowers of every hue.

Could a more delightful place for piscatory purposes be desired! Having baited our hooks, and made all other necessary preparative arrangements, we sat down on the bank, and quietly dropped our lines into the water. How little did I surmise the sequel of this fishing adventure!-how painfully mortifying the reminiscence! for, instead of waiting patiently, like a Job-like disciple of Isaac Walton, I very inconsiderately, and very unintentionally, fell asleep! Yes, indulgent reader! when you think of the amphitheatre of natural loveliness which encircled us, the deep solitude of the woods, the narcotic blandness of the atmosphere, and the monotonous rippling of the streamlet, you cannot be much surprised at this extraordinary occurrence, for we ourselves would have pardoned even Argus under similar circumstances, should he have closed his hundred eyes and slept.

From my state of unconsciousness I was suddenly awakened by sliding off the bank into the stream. What a damper upon further proceedings! Alligators I knew were abundant; so I scrambled up the bank as expeditiously as possible, and soon after returning to Jungcal, I comforted myself with the assurance that, although I had caught no fish, yet I had caught a decided ducking.

My companion was much more fortunate, having succeeded in cap