true musical expression-otherwise all the teaching in the world, all the pains bestowed on rapid execution, all the exertion made in adagio movements, will ultimately turn out useless, and of no avail to afford pleasure to a man gifted with an innate love of music.

When at Paris I did not omit the opportunity of paying a visit to Versailles, where instead of spending a day, I should have preferred to have lived at least for a month, in the centre of that fine old palace, whose acres of painting afford such a pictorial display of the history of France. This place is a great museum of history. The history of the country may be more effectually studied in that locality, in many of its most striking features, and some of its most eventful epochs, and with far more pleasure, than in pouring over the musty folio volume.

At Paris I fell in with an English gentleman of high attainments, whom I had known in early life, whose sources of information are not for a moment to be doubted from being connected in high quarters, and who is related to some of the highest aristocracy in England; and who has passed more than twenty years of his life in France, intimately associated with both Frenchmen and foreigners.

After dinner we were chatting over the Crimean business. He said, "You Englishmen who come over to the continent, will never have the remotest conception of how much you are fallen, not only in the estimation of Frenchmen, but in the opinion of every other continental state, in consequence of your shocking shortcomings in the Crimea."

He continued: "The energy with which you opposed Napoleon, both by sea and land, during the French war, under the able administration of Pitt; the honourable and powerful manner in which you carried out your commercial transactions on the

continent of Europe, caused the name of England to be dreaded as well as respected. That prestige, so deservedly gained, has all now vanished."

I may remark that from what I saw of the Rhine scenery, after leaving Wiesbaden, I may state it as my firm conviction that the western coast of Scotland and the Caledonian Canal district, as well as the neighbourhood of the lakes, with the sun in the horizon, far, far surpass the greater part of the much-boasted Rhine country. In many parts, it is nothing either more or less than a great dreary monotonous vine district, completely unrelieved in many instances with that charm and beauty which may be found in many parts of Scotland."

At Wiesbaden I paid a visit to the Greek mausoleum. This exquisite structure first presents itself to the eye of the visitor, like a colossal gem, with its golden and glossy summits finely tapering, at the extremities of which long chains extend from the crosses, gracefully imitating that fine effect which is so beautifully seen in naval architecture. The site on which it stands is in the middle of a wild and gloomy wood, at a distance of about half a mile or more from the town of Wiesbaden.

When I first saw its glass and golden domes glittering in the sun, with their summits gracefully decorated with golden chains, similar to the topmast of a man of war, with the remaining parts constructed of stone delicately white and beautifully wrought, rising like a thing of life, as part and parcel of the great wood which surrounded it, it was more comparable to a great mountainous gem from the beautiful play of light that tinted its variegated surfaces, than that of a Greek mausoleum. I saw more beauty in this building than in all the other structures I had previously observed in Paris, Rome, St. Petersburgh, or Vienna.

The interior is in perfect keeping with the outside. It is a continuous succession of matchless beauty. The painted figures of the windows, surrounded with a ground of gold, is as exquisitely beautiful as anything in art can possibly produce.

Whether I saw it in the distance, as connected with the surrounding scenery, or minutely examined it when standing near to it, it appeared to me to be the finest proportioned building, as well as one of the most perfect architectural conceptions, I ever beheld. Like the great Niagara, the more you see of it, the more you want to see.

On my return to England, after a trip to Versailles, including a sight of the Greek mausoleum at Wiesbaden, I was fully prepared to look at our own Crystal Palace. The Crystal Palace and Gardens stand alone, as a proud monument of what English genius when employed in the right direction is capable of doing. Versailles, with all the many beauties that it possesses, vanishes into oblivion when the Crystal Palace and Gardens rise into view. Our British Museum, Scott Russell's vessel, the Crystal Palace and Gardens, stand alone in the world, and are glorious emanations of the great Anglo-Saxon head.

THE END.

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