one-fourth of the enormous sums actually expended on the colony. The commercial set-off against this drain on the resources of the mother country is a mere bagatelle. Yet all this sacrifice of life and money was endured, in order to retain a manoeuvring field for a huge army, and to provide a ready outlet for troublesome and dangerous men, who here found a field for their energies, and most frequently a premature grave.

THE JAPANESE DEPARTMENT IN THE

DUBLIN EXHIBITION.

IN these days of rapid transit, when time and space seem almost annihilated, and distant countries are brought so near that the merest child amongst us knows more of the geography of India or China than the most erudite of our fathers could boast of knowing of the sister kingdom a few centuries ago, there are few spots in the world that have remained unexplored by the Saxon race. To the north-east of the Chinese empire, however, there lies a long range of islands, inhabited by a people interesting from their antiquity, their morality, and the high degree of perfection to which they have carried many branches of manufacture, but from whose shores other nations are so jealously excluded, that comparatively little is known respecting them. Probably, the youngest of our readers will anticipate us, and say that we refer to the Japanese empire.

An exhibition of articles from this country has been, of course, a thing hitherto unknown to us; and it was, therefore, with feelings of deep interest that we recently, on a visit to Dublin, directed our steps to that part of its exhibition which contains the unique collection contributed by the govern ment of the Netherlands. Holland, as most of our readers are aware, possesses the privilege, denied to other countries, of sending annually a few articles of commerce to this exclusive island; hence its opportunities of collecting the objects now under our examination.

The contiguity of Japan to the Chinese empire will suggest the supposition that there must be a great similarity in the character and style of the manufactures of the two nations; and this is strikingly the case. The first object that meets the eye upon entering is a large case, essentially of a Chinese character, containing some beautiful specimens of crape shawls, exquisitely carved chessmen, large fans made with feathers from the wings of the Argus pheasants, some rice paper paintings, and some of the elaborately-carved perforated concentric balls, which have for so long a time puzzled the curious, but which Mr. Sirr, in his work on China, tells us are formed in separate parts, and afterwards joined with a very strong cement, the edges being first shaved down to less than the thickness of paper.

Another case contains a variety of articles, less beautiful perhaps, but more curious than the one just mentioned, because more rare. These are dresses of various kinds, in crape and silk, while some are richly embroidered in gold; besides these, are packs of cards, banners and drums, models of birds and animals, musical instruments, and arms. The latter are the more interesting, from the fact

that the exportation of arms of any kind from Japan is punished with death.

Between the two cases containing the abovementioned specimens stands a grotesque-looking figure, representing, as the catalogue informs us, a Japanese hero of the size of life, clad in complete armour, very Chinese in the shape of his eyes and the general character of his face, and of a delicatelyfair complexion; a circumstance which strikes us as somewhat singular, since geographers represent the natives of Japan as a tawny race: yet the tion would lead one to suppose that the figure Chinese exactness of the other objects in the collecbefore us was intended as a faithful copy in all points.

Another case, contiguous to the others, contains a beautifully-japanned cabinet of papier mâché, inlaid with pearl in various grotesque figures, the top of which is open, fitted up like the interior of a temple, and so strikingly similar in almost every respect to the modern Roman Catholic chapels, that it might be intended for one of them. There is the altar, with its carving and gilding, its tall candlesticks and small ornamented vessels, even to the censer-pot, the priest standing with bowed head on the steps of the altar. The open and tall structures, too, at the sides of the temple, might well pass for confessional boxes. Nearly the whole interior is a mass of carving and gilding, and it has the same appearance of glitter and show that is exhibited in the modern temples of Roman Catholicism, to catch the eye and please the fancy of its votaries. Were it not that we have read a description of Japanese worship, we should have been tempted to believe that the model before us really represented one of the Romish chapels established in that country in the days of Xavier.

The following extract will explain this fact, as well as account for the rapid progress which Christianity, so called, made on its first introduction in Japan:"The mission of the Jesuits was for a time singularly successful. There were two circumstances which greatly facilitated this success: one was, that the sick, the poor, and the infirm were held by the native priests to be accursed; poverty, infirmity, and sickness were pronounced a curse, and their victims accursed by the god of Japanese mythology; therefore, when the Jesuits preached the love, and the benevolence, and the charities of the gospel, the whole of that class of the popula tion at once rushed into the arms of the church. But, besides this, there was another facilitating cause: the religion of Japan had many analogies with the religion of Rome: the divinities of the Japanese comprehended a mother and son, precisely answering to Mary and Jesus; so precisely, that Francis Xavier mentioned that when he arrived at Japan, and was present at the royal court, he sent a little picture of the Virgin and Child to the emperor. The moment the emperor received it he kissed it in a passion of devotion before all his court, imagining that it was a picture of his own cherished divinities! But, besides this, the priests of those divinities in Japan were 'forbidden to marry;' celibacy was established amongst them. They had a conventual system-convents of unmarried men, and nunneries of unmarried women; and they had religious processions, and lighted candles, and smoking incense-all precisely

weakened by later years, making a most genial and happy history of that day, from the hour when the sun left the morning land till he reached the evening land, as the Germans, with their fine instinct for poetic appellations, call, in common talk, the east and west.

The hill and the park stand chief amongst the natural beauties of the neighbourhood. The latter would take us too far from the banks of the river, by which we are pledged to stay, and therefore our notices must be confined to the former, which has certainly the pre-eminence. Well, sit down for a moment and look at the prospect, and then look and look again. Of course the winding slip of silver on that broad sheet of many-tinted green first strikes you. The river threads together all the beauties of the prospect, and gives it unity. But mark as well "the pendant woods that nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat, and sloping thence to Ham's embowering glades ;" and then, yonder, the Twickenham bowers; and then, the softly swelling hills, and the long cultivated tract which spreads in the far distance; and finally, let the eye pass on "to lofty Harrow now, and now to where imperial Windsor lifts her haughty brow."

parting with its ordinary tranquil loveliness, assumes a boldness and commanding grandeur of character such as belongs to it at no other time." We have seen it in spring and autumn, yet here, in preference to any description of our own, we cannot forbear giving another extract from the same writer, who contributes to "The Land we Live In," and that in more senses than one. "It is viewed with more delight in that sweet season when the young leaves are timidly pressing forward on every spray, and the hill-sides are clothed in their freshest verdure, and the endless variety of tint has not yet sobered down into a uniform sombre green, and the multitude of leaves has not hidden the various objects that adorn the meadows and uplands; or later, when the sombre green has itself given way to a new and infinite profusion of golden hues, and over all is spread a glorious richness of colour, in comparison with which the splendour of even Titian's palette fades into poverty."

Scenery, famous houses, and old churches are what we are in quest of in this our humble river tour. We must, therefore, make our way to Richmond church, and an out-of-the-way place it is, hemmed in and hidden by buildings without one good access. The edifice has nothing architectural to recommend it; but there is something so retired and still about the little area in which it stands, that we never pass through it without pensive thoughts, to which the thickly-grouped tombs and gravestones minister solemn admonitions.

Within the church there is one memorial which attracts universal attention. "In the earth below this tablet," so it reads, "are the remains of James Thomson, author of the beautiful poems, "The Seasons,' The Castle of Indolence,' etc., who died at Richmond on the 27th of August, and was buried there on the 29th, o. s., 1748. The earl of Buchan, unwilling that so good a man and so sweet a poet should be without a memorial, has denoted the place of his interment, for the satis

We began, thinking we would not quote Thomson, for everybody quotes him when writing about Richmond: but we have fallen into the fashion in spite of ourselves; or, rather, we have used his words as others do, because it is natural to employ the best that we have at command, whether original or borrowed. And certainly the deep-toned but not over-colouring of Thomson's picture is incomparably better than any sketch of our own, in Indian ink or sepia; so we put his words in place of our own. Yet do just dwell, for a moment, on the little accessories of the view-faction of his admirers, in the year of our Lord that barge gliding along with graceful sail-that boat skimming about like a gay water-bird-that cottage roof, all weather-stained, peeping out from amongst the dense foliage of the woods below, and those curls of smoke, struggling amongst the leaves, producing manifold pictorial effects. Sir Joshua Reynolds used to spend part of his summers at Richmond; Gainsborough and Hofland often rambled about here; all painters since have studied the hill prospect, and a few have mastered it and mirrored it on their own canvass, but not many.

We like to visit objects, whether artistic or natural, at different seasons. The weather, the atmosphere, and the hour have much to do with scenery. We have often been at Richmond, and have stayed there for some weeks, but have never happened to be on the hill at such a time as the following description refers to, and therefore we insert it, with thanks to its author. "When, in the summer, stormy weather does occur, or as the rain is clearing off and the shadows from the heavy clouds that are driving wildly over the sky are rapidly chasing each other, or casting the larger part into magnificent masses of gloom, while bright gleams of sunshine lie in patches amid the shadows, and the wind is tossing that sea of foliage into huge billows; then indeed the scene,

1792." This common-place inscription will be perused with interest by every one who reads and loves the verses of this gifted bard; and surely they who read his poetry must love it. The ashes of genius ennoble the spots where they slumber, and those places of their rest inspire, with sacred emotions, minds wont to trace intellectual endowments to their origin and to follow the spirit ennobled by original power to that other world for which the present only prepares. The infinite and eternal open upon us with affecting grandeur, through those gates of the grave, beyond which these great intellectual torch-bearers of humanity are now for ever gone. They see in a purer light than ever-perhaps in a light altogether different from what they had or used before. Thomson was nature's own poet. His favourite theme was nature. The race of the seasons, the successive aspects of the year-no one has given the true ides of them as he has done! We feel that we are his debtors for some of our purest intellectual pleasures, and we realize the debt and would express the obligation, as we gaze on the half-defaced plate of brass which records his fame.

of

We picture the outer man as the visible copy the inner mental one. Thomson puzzles us, if the following account be true. "He was of a stature

and sympathies, softer and sweeter than any music. There are associations here of other festive gatherings, such as dinners for city companies, and, if the circumstance may be mentioned in the same sentence, dinners for the ministers of state; but all this leads to thoughts of politics, municipal and national, to which, in a ramble like ours, we greatly prefer thoughts of congenial matches and comfort. able homes. Moreover, something decidedly histo rical has lately connected itself with the Star and Garter; for here Louis Philippe took up his abode, during a portion of his exile, to revolve, on the verge of the infinite future, the history of his chequered life-finding the magnificence of Versailles, St. Cloud, Fontainebleau, and the Tuileries, which he called his own, suddenly exchanged for the limited accommodation of a country inn.

expression a little, through architectural alterations | been followed by a prolonged concert of affections which have softened its features. And now again we see on the green a grand tournament. Sir James Parker, in conflict with Hugh Vaughan for right of coat armour, is slain in the first encounter. But pageants and shows keep passing before us in these Tudor times with a bewildering splendor which it is useless to endeavour to describe. Henry v appears among the old gray towers in chivalric pride and array; behind him rises the shade of the second Richard; then that of Edward III, who is left here on his deathbed by his faithless courtiers, Alice Perrers only remaining to the last, and she doing it for the sake of the ring on his cold and stiffened finger. Dimly the form of his grandfather, the first of his name, comes out among the towers and walls of this feudal residence: dimmer still the shade of Henry 1; and all beyond is indistinct, save that, in the far distant past, the hills are green and woody, the sky is blue, and the water clear and silvery.

So ends our series of dissolving views; and now, returning to our common method of description, we would observe that, at Richmond, Henry v founded a house for forty monks of the Carthusian order, called the priory. Here the notorious Perkin Warbeck found refuge; here the corpse of James IV of Scotland was brought for interment; here dean Colet built some lodgings, and then died in 1519; and here, too, cardinal Wolsey, after his fall, found refuge, and in the afternoon "would sit in contemplations with one or other of the most ancient fathers of that house in his cell," listening to homilies on the vain-glory of this world-a scene which would make a good picture.

The palace and priory, both gone, were the nucleus around which the village or town began long since to gather, and without which it now thrives and prospers as a place of large population, and which has also crowds of visitors. Hither come the people of this and other lands, swarming along railway or river, through the marvellous locomotive power of the same agency; and here, assuredly, they may find, in the scenes of nature and the recollections of history, not a little to improve the taste, elevate the mind, and affect the heart.

The large hotels of the Castle, and the Star and Garter, present powerful attractions, and from the back windows and spacious garden of the latter, now of European fame, you have a view of the glorious expanse of wood and water which we attempted to indicate at the commencement of this sketch. The long, long row of carriages to be seen on a fine summer day, closely locked together in front of this mansion-like house of entertainment, show its own popularity, and evince the power of those charms of scenery which draw together so many strangers. The spot is associated with the remembrance of pleasant festivities and youthful holidays, and, in many cases, with the memory of that auspicious morning in human life when a happy union, after being sanctified by the holy rites of religion, has been further celebrated by the gathering of friends and the offering of sincere congratulations to the happy pair. Married life cannot be all the way through just like the wedding breakfast at the Star and Garter, but we doubt not that often the key-note struck there has

But we must end our gossip, and return to the river, where our boat lies tempting us to take a row up and down the calm sunny waters, bordered by such rich sylvan scenes, the whole enlivened by gay crowded barks passing to and fro. Among them comes a stately city barge, very suggestive of lord mayor's processions on the Thames; indeed, so brilliant with gold and paint, and the scarlet coats of the rowers, wearing their broad silver badges, that we could fancy ourselves meeting the Venetian Bucentoro. We dare say the large party on board are bound for the Star and Garter, where we hope they will if merry be also wise, while we are drinking in the freshness, health, and beauty which seem to float all round us here over river, earth, and sky.

MY ENCOUNTER WITH A BUFFALO. MINE has been an adventurous life. Thrice have I been shipwrecked, twice shot at, while once, by the accidental discharge of my own gun, the ball carried away the peak of my cap. I have had ugly encounters with snakes, have been upset both from horses and gigs; while on one occasion, when at sea, I fell out of a cabin window and was nearly drowned; besides many other hairbreadth escapes, to relate all of which would occupy too much space. But I mean now to speak of one adventure which occurred in 1840; one to which I can seldom recur without laughing and shuddering alternately. I laugh to think of the ridiculous figure I must have cut in the eyes of idle spectators; I shudder to remember that my life was so nearly forfeited by my temerity.

I was then a lad of barely fifteen years of age, and the circumstances were as follows.

I was stationed for a few months at Penang, that delightful little Eden in the Straits of Malacca, where the climate is the finest in the whole Eastern Archipelago, the people the most hospitable and friendly, the fruits the most delicious, the flowers the most fragrant, and the birds the best warblers in the East. One day, a lawyer of the name of C-, who lived in the main street of Penang

the only street without a turning in the island, and which runs parallel with the harbour-had invited a few friends, chiefly officers of the native infantry corps stationed on the Island, to partake of a quiet dinner at his house. Amongst the