occasions be used with a sparing hand." "Experi- | enamoured with beauty, let it work to a certain ence," says a celebrated German writer, "teaches practical power of adapting means to ends, and in us that particular colours excite particular states of a thousand details of contrivance and arrangement feeling." It is equally to be remarked, that per- will it perceive where beauty may be created. sons of different temperament have very opposite It is somewhat marvellous to observe the mispreferences amongst colours; but though no rules takes which people make in furnishing, and the can be laid down to interfere with these, each taste want of an equalization of economy which is so may produce harmony after its own fashion, if it conspicuous in most houses. Certain conventional be but regulated with knowledge. As in music a rules sway them entirely. In one house we see key-note is fixed upon to commence with, so in bad oil paintings, in massive gilt frames, with a the furnishing of a room some colour should be deficiency of baths; in another, a profusion of chosen which may give the tone to the general meaningless glass and china ornaments, with no harmony of effect. As, for instance, if the furni- luxury or comfort about it. All this, of course, ture be taken as the key, the walls and carpet can only be remedied by discovering wherein real should be "mediants," and the curtains the com- beauty consists, and this must keep pace with the pletion of the triad. Walls should be always of education of our people. the softest and least conspicuous colours, and yet of no leaden hue, or woe be to the engravings which may happen to have place against them! And, for the love of good eyesight, let all gloomy papers which frown at us, all irritating diamonds, and perplexing zigzag lines, which make our eyes ache to rest on them, be abjured for ever! Carpets, though of a rich colour, should be equally unobtrusive. Those which are almost without perceptible pattern give perhaps the most beautiful effect to rooms. Green, crimson, and purple, are all colours which suit the generality of sitting-rooms well. They reflect no glare in bright sunlight; firelight dances upon them and gets no cold repulsion; and they are as opposed to gloom as they are to tawdriness. The simplicity of plain colours tends to give that feeling of repose in rooms, which most of us love. There is one difficulty in choosing them, however; they are more expensive than gaudy patterns are. This, doubtless, is an indication of the popular taste, and one, we trust, easily remedied when it is improved. In bedrooms, the characteristics of which should be extreme repose, simplicity, and cheerfulness, light and delicate colours are more admissible. Applegreens, and white, and soft blues, opposed as they are to all night-mare and ghostly terrors, form charming hangings for them. Chintz curtains are much to be avoided; hangings should fall in the easiest and most graceful folds, and those never will. Let us use economy in the cost of some other item, rather than be denied the beauty of a graceful curtain to our windows. Dark oak is perhaps the most beautiful of all woods for furniture; but it is expensive, and therefore we have little now to say of it; lightcoloured woods give great airiness and cheerfulness to rooms, often combined with very delicately shaded hangings; but for general use we are persuaded dark hues wear best. Now as to form another very important eleTent of beauty in rooms-there is great difficulty. Popular taste has been contented so long with straight lines and angles in furniture, that it is not easy to get anything else without going to much expense. Curved lines and carvings require more labour in their preparation than these, and they are not yet demanded in their stead. But meanwhile there are partial remedies for those who delight in waving lines. Cloths, beautiful in colour at least, may be made to hide the straight legs of a table, and inexpensive drapery the nakedness of a too bare sofa. Once let the mind get | In the meantime, while we patiently hope for this, and many amongst us individually and socially are working to promote it, let us pause to look at this picture of a room. It is certainly a small one; but, notwithstanding, there is a feeling of space in it, because, though well filled with furniture, there is no crowding of articles into it. The walls are papered with a very soft buff-coloured paper, so delicate that the eye is neither attracted to it nor repelled from it. The curtains to the one window hang from the simplest dark painted pole, but they fall in long sweeping lines to the floor, and are of rich crimson; the carpet is of crimson too, though of a darker shade; a round table stands in the middle of the room, covered with a purple cloth; a few cherry-wood chairs are clustered near it, while a comfortable derby one stands with cushion near the fire. A very bright fire is burning, and its warmth comes comfortably to the feet over the little gothic patterned iron fender. An engraving, in a plain ebony beading, hangs over the mantel-piece; and upon a little table half shaded by the crimson curtain stands a beautiful figure in plaster, while in the centre of the principal wall hang well-filled book shelves. The light of the Palmer's lamp upon the table shines softly upon everything, and we pause again and again to mark the harmony of the whole. And yet, the parts dissected, how simple and inexpensive are the elements combined to form it! The paper on the walls may be had anywhere for two-pence a yard, and that stout hempen carpet for eightpence! The table has a common deal top, which almost allows for the expense of the rich-looking cloth. That comfortable derby chair sells in the market for seven or eight shillings; the cushions form its beauty. The fender and lamp together might be bought for another seven shillings, and the chairs for five or six shillings a-piece. The plaster figure of an Italian boy's board is cheap enough, and so are the rough bookshelves. The curtains, ay, the curtains, may have bordered on extravagance; but saving somewhere else has remedied that, and they hang so gracefully! But enough-the fire-light wanes, and the picture fades away; but if it suggests aught to further the creation of something akin to it, we will never care that it do so. If the eye of our faith be unto God, the eye of his favour will be unto us. The way to be great is to do good. THE WELL-DRESSINGS: AN ENGLISH CEREMONY OF THE OLDEN TIME. Or all the unpleasant effects resulting from the tendency of the present age, none jar so disagreeably on the feelings of the lovers of the olden time as the destruction and abolition of all customs that cannot stand the test of being of a strictly utilitarian character. No consideration of time-honoured usages, no associations with the past, however interesting, no picturesque or poetical beauties clustering round them, seem able to preserve these relics of bye-gone days. One by one they are swiftly falling before the advancing progress of the age. No doubt many of the customs thus abolished were frivolous and useless; but some of them were worthy of a more honourable appellation, and tended, by the kind feelings which they engendered, to cement social fellowship, and to throw over the toil-worn aspect that life too often wears an air of joyous relaxation that sat not ungracefully upon it. I had once the pleasure of being present at a pretty village festival of the above character, and as it is precisely one of the kind to which I have referred, as fast disappearing; and, indeed, as it may by this time have been swept into the regions of "the things that were," I propose briefly to record my recollections of it. The festival in question took place at one of the prettiest villages in Derbyshire, situated far away from the bustle, gaiety, and new-fashioned improvements going on in the regions around it. Not even a stage-coach, a mail-cart, or any means of communication with the world, from which it was (when I knew it at least) completely secluded, approached nearer to it than a small market town, about five miles off. The spot, too, on which that village stood was picturesque and beautiful. It reposed on the declivities of a sloping hill, surrounded with fine pasture fields, the ground all around it being of the most undulating and charming form. A quaint, very old, and very simple church stood nearly in the centre of the village, having its graveyard neatly kept and adorned with fine old yew trees. The graves, few in number, and their grassy mounds almost levelled with the surrounding turf, showed that it was long since any of the inhabitants had joined their forefathers in this last quiet resting-place; indeed, as I afterwards learnt, there had been a strong prejudice against being buried in that churchyard, ever since the occurrence of a strange and startling incident, which occurred at the last funeral that had taken place there, but with which our present sketch has nothing to do, although at some future period we may have something to say to our readers about it. The period of the year when the simple festival of which I am to speak occurred, was that most beauteous though most uncertain one, the spring. It went by the name of "The Well-dressings," and from time immemorial had always taken place on Ascension-day: consequently, it varied according to the time that Easter fell each season; but in the particular year which it is my purpose to refer to, it took place on the 8th of May, when the spring was in all the freshness and richness of its beauty. The old people from whom I tried to as certain the origin of this festival always said they thought it was a "sort of way (as they phrased it) of showing thankfulness at the beginning of the good season, for all the good and beautiful things with which it had pleased an all-merciful God to bless his sinful creatures; and where, ma'am," continued they, "be poor bodies like us to find aught for an offering but in the fields and woods, which seem-their flowers anyways-to be ours as much as any one's." This simple reasoning, by one of the oldest women in the village-quite a character in her way-seemed to convey all the information that could be gathered on the subject; and the thoughts of the simple and humble-minded grati tude which the ceremony represented, invested it in my eyes with a species of religious interest that served greatly to enhance its effect. Indeed, when I reflected on the unnumbered years that this rite, (if so it may be called), had continued in this primitive spot, apparently in all its original beauty, and on all that it signified, it almost called tears to my eyes. From the various inquiries I made, either then or afterwards, it appeared that it only existed here, and in one or two other villages in Derbyshire; and certainly, of all the spots that could have been chosen for the celebration of this custom, none could be more admirably suited to it than this prettiest of villages, from the great number of wells that it contained, there being no fewer than five. Of these wells it would be hard to say which of them, from its intrinsic merit, or its picturesque situation, was the most deserving of adornment. One and all, they bore most interesting traces of their great antiquity. They were arched over with stone, and had a facing of the same material. The water, clear as crystal and cold as ice, fell into a deep basin, which it was the joy of the villagers to keep free from all impurity. Bright green mosses, nourished by the moisture, adorned the edges of the basin, but were never suffered to encroach inside; while delicate tendrils of the ground-ivy and sprays of woodbine would creep over the stone tablet and the arch, adding much to their beauty. One of these wells was situated just at an angle where two pretty secluded lanes met, and there seemed to lose themselves in a bower of green trees and hedge-rows, all at this time clothed in the softest and loveliest green. The well in question was the most pleasant of all, for it was close to the edge of the village green, far from the high road, and stood on a grassy mound, overshadowed by a fine-sized sycamore tree. The next in order was situated on a very lonely spot, and not being very near any habitation, it was less frequented by the inhabitants; but to me it was even superior in beauty to the others, for two very luxuriant hedge-rows intersected, as it were, each other im. mediately behind it, and threw over it their beauteous canopy of blossoms and tendrils-wild roses, honeysuckle, and elder-some of them almost touching its clear waters, as if the delicate pink roses wished to contemplate their own exquisite beauty in this natural mirror. By this well were placed two most antique buckets, looking, if one might judge by their quaint shape and the timeworn appearance of their materials, almost coeval with the wells. Wells, by the bye, are rather an inappropriate title for them; that of fountains would have been more suitable, as the water in all of them fell from a carved stone mouth into the basin below. Let their names, however, be what they might, they constituted a peculiar feature in this sweet village. rarer wild flowers grew, unknown by any less enterprising than herself. She seemed to have an unerring eye for floral treasures, and would return from her excursions with her face glowing with health and delight, her dress turned up and loaded with flowers, her bonnet off and slung on one arm, to contain the more precious and delicate sort, her curls all in disorder, and altogether presenting a fine subject for our painter Collins. Then, as the handiest of workwomen, she had been likewise invaluable; her light active fingers were here, there, and everywhere in a minute; so light was her touch that the slightest and most fragile blossoms were uninjured by it; she had, too, an exquisite knack of turning and twisting them about in the way most becoming to their several beauties. What a busy scene it used to be as matters drew near a conclusion! Such kindly emulation between the different parties; such seeking for flowers at the last hour, in previously unknown and romantic places, often high up in the hills; such levying of contributions upon all the gardens far and near; and what stores of the beautiful treasures were at last collected, of every name and hue, wild and cultivated! Oh! it was a goodly sight even then; and often have I stood watching their interesting labours, and wondering to see how order and purpose and regularity seemed to be the result of apparently the wildest confusion. Another of these wells or fountains was situated in the lime avenue leading up to the church. What a pleasant place, on a summer's evening, for a walk, inhaling, as you went, the fragrance of the lime blossoms, which were quite alive with bees busily employed in extracting the luscious sweets from the flowers, and making the air musical with their low monotonous hum, while the pleasant rippling sound of the water as it fell gave a feeling of freshness and coolness most delightful at the close of a hot oppressive day. Peeps, too, of the blue sky might be seen through the thick foliage forming a verdant arch over our heads. Many a pleasant moment have I spent in that spot, enjoying the beauties I have now referred to. The fourth well was just in front of the parsonage, and almost touched the garden fence; it was the largest of them all, and was always, in honour of the good pastor, rather more richly adorned than the others a delicate and touching tribute to the worth of one who had for nearly fifty years largely contributed to the temporal and spiritual welfare of his flock. With much amusement have I watched the way in which these simple-minded peasants, as the time for the festival drew on, sought to screen their pretty labours from the eyes of the good man, till the proper moment should arrive, when the result was to burst upon him in all its splendour. The fifth and last of the wells was situated close to the gate that gave entrance to the grounds of the lord of the manor. It stood on a mound of the softest, greenest grass, which was always kept with the most sedulous care, till it might have rivalled in smoothness and evenness the most highly-kept lawn. A tiny path led up to the well, that no footsteps might soil the grass; and immediately behind it there was a magnificent holly, such as one only sees in bits of reclaimed forest ground; a finer indeed I have seldom seen, and its dark shining green leaves and picturesque form made the most harmonious background to the well. On the last day of these preparations, I sat at my favourite well, being the one near the lime trees, and to which my little favourite maiden belonged. Everything wore a most festive air. The birds were rejoicing all around, and indulging themselves in one incessant twitter and warble; all nature looked gay and gladsome; and there sat all the clever artists absolutely buried in flowers-including daffodils, hyacinths, and cowslips, with their deep golden cups spotted with ruby; lilies of the valley, with their long green silken leaves and pearl-like flowers; wild bluebells, pale primroses, violets sweeter than all earthly perfumes, and daisies like the little stars of heaven; while the fragile cups of the graceful wood anemones waved their delicate and drooping heads before the gentlest breeze that was blowing. There were marsh-marigolds, too, with their glistening, golden flowers; wild geraniums, meadow-sweet, rightly named, with its rich almond perfume; the delicate wood-sorrel; bright blue squills, the very colour of the summer sky; the snowy hawthorn, contrasting well with the scarlet peone, whose gorgeous flowers looked as though they had been cut out in coral; together with the rosy double peach; and all these floral embellishments brought out by a background of verdure and foliage of all the diversified tints of the fresh and early spring. Oh, what a treat it was for the genuine admirer of nature in its rich luxuriance, and how delightful to watch the processes by which such brilliant results were to be produced. Having thus endeavoured to place before my readers the scene of the festival, I will now describe what the festival itself was. The various wells I have described had to be dressed with flowers, not in the common way in which such adorning is accomplished, but in one which required no small rural skill, both in the choice of the materials and the manner of their arrangement. The flowers were cleverly disposed so as to imitate a gorgeous mosaic, and no one can judge of the great beauty of this display who has not assisted at the ceremony. But I must go a little more into detail. I had been spending some weeks with the kindly owners of the great house, as it was called, and in consequence I had become thoroughly interested in all that was going on, even in the important question as to who was to be sequeen of the festival; this dignity being always conferred on the young damsel who was judged to have been the most expert, first in procaring the flowers, and afterwards in their arrangement. My wishes all centred in one bright little village maiden, with a particularly pleasing expression of countenance. As a flower seeker, she was wholly unrivalled, for she knew places where the lected I remained till the moon was absolutely shining clear and bright in the sky, for it was necessary that all should be completed that night; and when everything was finished at our well, a cheering shout was raised by all present, which rose so clear and harmoniously in the still evening air that it thrilled through one with a most pleasing effect. When the last finishing touches had been given, well might the rural artists feel elated as they gazed upon their handiwork, and saw the well literally glowing with its magical combination of bright colours. But I must attempt to describe one of these adorned wells, so as to give as far as possible an idea of the whole effect. The flowers being placed so as to show no stalks, nothing could be seen but gorgeous masses of colouring, so disposed that each colour set the others off to advantage; while a stone ornament stood out in the midst, bedecked with the snowy blossoms of the may, and looking more silvery and beautiful from the deep red setting surrounding it produced by the peone. Every other part of the well, which we have not space minutely to detail, was ornamented in a similarly effective manner, the whole work being framed with the young tendrils of the hop, the vine, the woodbine, and the ivy. Thus embowered, it really formed a magic picture. Previous to the judges of the festival visiting the wells in succession to pronounce upon their respective merits, all the rural population attended divine service at the church, so that thus a sort of religious improvement was given to the occasion, and the villagers reminded of Him who gave fruitful seasons and springing fountains. The church stood on a little hill surrounded by the irregular and straggling village with its fields and gardens, some of the latter coming close up to the churchyard wall, and many of the fruit trees hanging their rich and beautiful blossoms over the humble resting-places of the dead. The aged clergyman, at the time I speak of, had been long ailing, and it was much doubted whether he would be able to address his parishioners as usual on that day. We were all assembled in the churchyard, the day being one of those glorious ones when the very privilege of having life appears sufficient to inspire a feeling of happiness, so richly do all things seem given us to enjoy! No sound disturbed the stillness, save the solemn toll of the bell summoning to prayer and thanksgiving; when just as the last faint reverberation of that sound was fading upon the ear, the venerable old man was seen slowly walking up to the church porch. A soft murmur of approving welcome was all the greeting his humble friends ventured on, and in a moment more he had entered the church and given out the psalm, whereupon all worldly thoughts and feelings seemed at once to disappear in the solemn tranquillity that reigned in the house of God. A conviction resting on the aged shepherd's mind that it was in all probability the last time he should address his flock on this anniversary occasion, gave unusual fervour to his touching and simple discourse; and when we left the church, and the procession formed to go through the village, there was a sort of solemn hush instead of the burst of joyfulness that customarily took place at that time, so deep was the impression produced by the words they had heard, together with the circumstances in which they had been spoken. It was not long, however, before the old man's voice was raised in expressions of the warmest admiration as he reached the first well, decked by my young favourite. Its beautiful appearance seemed to break the spell which had been for a while cast over the assembly, and they once more gave unrestrained utterance to the gladness of their full hearts. The company were all attired in their best clothes, and everything wore a festive appearance. A band of the school girls accompanied the procession, and, as they paused at each well, they raised their voices in a simple hymn appropriate to the day, and most touching did those childish voices sound, singing the praises of their Creator and Redeemer. There were not the slightest indications of unbecoming mirth, but all the proceedings were tranquil and orderly in the extreme, without in any degree repressing the real heartfelt joyousness of the occasion by such sobriety. We visited the various wells in succession, admiring and praising, as they deserved, their exquisite beauty; but we returned again to the well that had been pronounced by universal acclaim the most beautiful among the beautiful, and, it is gratifying to add, without any unkindness or mortification being shown on the part of those who were thus pronounced defeated. It was almost immediately decided that my young friend was to be the queen of the day; and so popular was the little maiden in the village, that no one seemed to begrudge her the honours, and more especially when they witnessed the modest air with which she received the crown of white roses-the emblem of her new dignity-and the deep red of her blushes when the garland was placed on her brow by the trembling fingers of the venerable clergyman. On venturing to look up, though almost overpowered by timidity, she encountered nothing on all sides but kindly glances, and another hearty cheer was given to celebrate her coronation honours. The rest of the day was spent in innocent enjoy. ment, and the recreations concluded by a general tea-drinking in the grounds of the patron of the village, who was always too happy to promote the pleasure of the people. Were there more like him, able and willing to encourage the innocent recreations of the toiling poor, there would be a more kindly feeling between the different classes of the community than unhappily often now exists. The day had been to me one of unmixed enjoy. ment; and when the last sounds of joyousness had died away upon the ear, I sallied forth, resolved once again to visit, by the clear calm light of the moon, these most magical structures. If I had thought them beautiful when emblazoned by the gaudy light of day, how far more lovely were they now, when seen partly in light and partly in shadow, all defects concealed by the soft tremulous glow that fell upon them, and the brilliant colours shining out more and more vividly, from the force of contrast, with the parts in shadow; the moonbeams at the same time silvering the water as it dripped into some of the basins, while, beside the rippling noise thus produced, and the occasional low chirp of a bird disturbed in its rest, not a sound disturbed the solemn stillness of the night. It was a scene to be lastingly impressed upon one's mind, and I felt, as I turned away, that these Well-dressings would never be forgotten by me. I can only, in conclusion, express a hope that the interest and gratification which I experienced in witnessing these simple and primitive ceremo nies may be to some extent participated by those who peruse this feeble description of them. THE APARTMENTS OF THE VENETIAN | with the doom of captivity or death before him. INQUISITORS. THE following description of the apartments occupied by the terrible Council of Ten, in Venice, during the days of her declining greatness, is taken from a compendious history of that celebrated city, just issued in the Monthly Volume series of the Religious Tract Society, and which is from the pen of an accomplished writer, who has personally visited the scenes which he so graphically delineates :There is another most interesting suite of three rooms, formerly devoted to the use of the Council of Ten, which the visitor acquainted with Venetian history will be sure specially to notice. By the side of the door of an ante-chamber is the little wicket belonging to the lion's mouth, which received denunciations against persons touching offences that came under the cognizance of the tribunal Occupying these rooms. Along the left wall were six desks for the secretaries of the inquisitors of state and the Council of Ten. The benches all around served for persons summoned to appear as witnesses or as accused. "Here they attended here they trembled." The hall of the Council of Ten has a ceiling partly by Paul Veronese, and a frieze by Zelotti. Yet neither these ornaments nor the three historical pictures on the walls obtain much notice, compared with the deep but painful interest which all must feel in thinking of the uses for which this apartment was originally employed. Here is the very centre of that terrible jurisdiction which almost always recurs to our mind when the name of Venice is pronounced-that irresponsible and despotic authority which lorded itself over the liberty and lives of the most powerful citizens that agency which from its secresy and mysteriousness seemed like something supernatural. Knowing what human nature is, and how men freed from accountability to their fellows are apt to trample on the principles of justice in their eagerness to retain the power they possess, especially when existence would be jeopardized by its loss, we cannot but feel sure that there must have been proceedings going on in this awful room of a character the thought of which makes us tremble. Admitting that the atrocities of this court may have been somewhat exaggerated, yet history records enough of its doings, and our knowledge of fallen humanity under such circumstances as this inquisition created sufficiently shows what it must have been, to convince us that nowhere else, except in Rome and Seville, has there been so much of iniquity perpetrated under the name of justice. It would show an absence of right moral feeling not to be moved with indignation at the thought of the scenes once enacted on this spot; and connecting that thought with our irrepressible conviction of a righteous Governor in heaven, we are irresistibly led to anticipate, as beyond all doubt, the coming of an hour when he will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and when men shall be judged by him according to their works. There we ruminate as we think of the time when the seventeen stalls around the room were occupied by the ten councillors, with the doge and his six assistants, when the secretaries were seated at their desks, and witnesses were examined, and the secused stood in the midst alone and undefended, Of course in many of the trials here, whatever may be thought of the sentence inflicted, guilt, and that of a heavy kind, was proved against the accused. The place was not always a slaughter-house for innocence, a butchery for men guilty of light offence. Grave crimes against the state were here disclosed, and the memory especially dwells on that night in the April of 1355, when Marino Faliero, a traitor to the government of which he was the head, was arraigned before his old companions in office, and when the sword of justice, covered with crape, was placed on the throne which he had been wont himself to fill. Next to the hall of the Council of Ten is the cabinet of the inquisitors of state, the three out of the ten in whom there was a concentration of the highest power of the state. The room is very much altered, having now the appearance of "a café decorated in bad taste." But the ceiling, the inlaid floor, and the chimney-piece are the same as when the three used to sit here in dire conclave. What mainly fixed our attention were the two doors and the passages connected with them leading to the cells of the inquisition. Those doors, those passages, those cells!-who that has ever seen them but must retain their image burnt into the memory? One door opens upon a narrow winding passage and staircase which leads up to the roof. Here were the famous ". piombi, leads, places of confinement, dark, close, and intensely hot, even when we were there, though they are now much better than they used to be. We cannot think of those prisons without feeling astonished at some modern attempts which have been made to represent them as after all not very disagreeable residences. or The piombi are bad enough, but they are far exceeded in horror by the pozzi, or dungeons. We descended to them by another narrow winding staircase, which awakened indescribable sensations, and brought over the mind a rush of fearful associations relative to the hapless victims dragged down this avenue, no more to see the light of day, and soon to lose the light of life. We entered the dungeons. They are square. The walls and the roof as well as the floor of some are covered with boards, and there remains a sort of slab which served for the captive's bed. The only light admitted is by a small hole opening into the narrow passage that runs by the low door-way, and that passage is only lighted by a series of small apertures, corresponding with these dismal little windows in the cells. Only so much of light is admitted as literally to make the darkness visible. Some of the cells have now no boarding over the grim stone walls; our cicerone, however, who evidently wished to mitigate our idea of the horrors of the place, stated that formerly they were all boarded, yet he admitted there was a distinction between cells for prisoners before confession and afterwards. The lowest dungeons we saw were above the level of the water. Our guide assured us that there were none lower, and that the statement of cells under the line of the canal was an idle dream," a perfect phantasy.' There certainly seems no access to any beneath those which we examined; but whether any such did exist, and have since been stopped up, we cannot tell. |