sine lineâ." At intervals he explored most of Ireland, visited Scotland, Eng. land, and the adjacent islets, to procure new facts, so as at some future period to systematize them into a condensed work.

In the month of April, 1841, he accompanied Captain Graves, of H.M.S. Beacon, on the Government survey then made of the island of Candia. Professor Edward Forbes (then Mr. Forbes) held the honorary appointment from the Admiralty of naturalist on this occasion, and the voyage proved most delightful to all on board, from the unanimity of pleasing tastes with which the whole party were actuated, during the bright and sunny week which flew by in their sail from Malta to Navarino. Our countryman always looked back to this trip with feelings of much pleasure, as it was passed in a manner the most congenial to his feelings in the society of scientific gentlemen, and in daily observations of new and interesting ornithological facts.*

As has been already observed, his native country was the field over which his researches particularly extended, and to him belongs the credit of having brought before the scientific world more valuable and well authenticated facts regarding the natural history of Ireland than had been ascertained by any previous writer. Many of the results of these investigations were, year by year, communicated to various scientific journals. Amongst them may be instanced the "Annals of Natural History,"-a London Magazine, in which he always took a great interest, aiding it for a length of time with his pen, and occasionally assisting it with the supervision of such articles as required a critically scientific consideration before insertion. His writings soon stamped him an original observer, invaluable for his accuracy and a comprehensive thinker, endowed with much depth of reasoning. This character led to the formation of an extended correspondence with many distinguished votaries of science in the sister kingdom, on the Continent, in America, &c. The avowed estimation in which he was held by these authorities, steadily advanced his scientific reputation, till he came to be considered

the leading naturalist in Ireland. This high position, so justly earned, was sustained with dignity and credit, till death cut him off in the prime of life.

For the last few years his time had been engaged in collecting all the materials which his exertions had previously procured, and in arranging his notes for publication; it being his intention to write a comprehensive work, termed "The Natural History of Ireland.”The first three volumes of this work, those on the " Birds of Ireland," have already appeared under his personal superintendence, and have been most favourably received. They display much descriptive power, and contain many passages of vivid and forcible writing. As such they will always meet with a ready perusal from the man of taste: as an authority on which naturalists may depend with implicit confidence, they will ever rank in the first class of scientific writings.

In these volumes the pleasing character and retiring disposition of the author may be traced with greater accuracy than could be furnished by a biography of even the most elaborate nature. Ornithology being his favourite study, its elucidation elicited those characteristic feelings which a leading pursuit seldom fails to draw forth; and his unwavering rectitude of mind, his gentle amiability, his thoroughly polished tone, shine as mildly and as strongly throughout his writings on the "Birds of Ireland" as they did in his intercourse with those who had the privilege of calling him a friend. Our townsman's notes on other branches of natural history, including mammals, fishes, reptiles, invertebrate animals, &c., will be also communicated to the public, the author having appointed two of his scientific friends, Robert Patterson, Esq., and James R. Garrett, Esq., of Belfast, for the purpose of attending to their publication.

He at all times evinced a lively interest in the advancement of his native town, and usually was a leader in every undertaking that facilitated the spread of general education, art, and science, or had for its object, improvement of any description.

There were few who hailed with

greater pleasure than he did, the erection of the Queen's College. The principles on which it has been conducted always met with his cordial support.

He was one of the most strenuous advocates of a School of Design, before its establishment here; and after its operations commenced, his judgment, as Vice-President, proved an important element in its welfare.

The Botanic Gardens, the Linen-hall Library, the Literary Society, and other local institutions, have experienced much valuable assistance from him, and owe to him many important suggestions on which they have proceeded in time past, and by which they are guided at present. He was a corresponding member of several scientific institutions, but amongst these, in which he was an act ing member, the British Association should be first noticed. With the mention of this Society, there now arises a peculiar feeling; his last journey to London having been undertaken with the object of attending their council meetings, to make preliminary arrangements for the approaching assemblage of the Association in Belfast, on the 1st of September next. That meeting, to which he so wishfully looked forward, and for which he used so much exertion, will indeed keenly feel his loss -highly esteemed as he was by those scientific strangers whom Belfast then hopes to welcome.

He intended to have communicated on this coming occasion a report "On the Fauna of Ireland," embracing all the discoveries made since 1843. He had, in 1839, been requested by the Association to furnish them with his views on this head, and accordingly read his first report at their tenth annual meeting, held in 1840, in Glasgow. His second report was given, when President of the Natural History Section of the Association, at their thirteenth meeting, held in 1843 in Cork. The paper proposed to be read in this town would have been his third report.

In addition to the British Association, however, there is another scientific society to which his loss is a much more severe blow, namely, our local one, the "Natural History and Philosophical

Society" of Belfast. He had been connected since 1826 with this body, had been appointed Vice-President in 1833, and, since 1843, had been annually elected their President. At their early meetings his talents for the prosecution of natural history had first shown themselves, and to the last he evinced as warm an interest in the welfare of the Society, and the Museum erected by them, as he did when he first joined their ranks in all the enthusiasm and ardour of youth.

It may be well to notice that this Society held a special meeting on the 10th of March last, for the sole purpose of passing resolutions expressive of their deep regret at his death, and their appreciation of his character and attainments. On this occasion a committee was appointed to consider what would be the most suitable memorial of the Society's high estimation of their late President. It is thought that the most fitting mark of respect, and the one which will probably be adopted, is the addition of a new room to the Museum, for the purpose of displaying by itself, and keeping apart from every other donation, the valuable collection which he has bequeathed to this Society.

It has now been shown how the loss of our townsman has affected public bodies and societies; how deeply it has been felt by individuals must not here be mentioned. Yet it may be observed that he was always a generous patron of merit in the humbler walks of life— was charitable to many deserving institutions and distressed persons and, consequently, in these capacities has been as much deplored as in his better known character as a man of science and literature.

His death, indeed, has been a blow to Ireland generally, and to Belfast particularly. Yet it is consolatory to reflect that he has earned for himself a high and honourable name in the records of science, and has left behind a character for kindness and singleness of heart which casts a halo of pleasing recollections around his memory, and softens that regret which is now felt at his sudden removal.

I COULD not help reflecting, as I wandered with my companions through the museum at Sèvres, how little the world knows of its greatest benefactors and most useful men. While the warrior and the statesman are celebrated by historians and poets, the minds who, working silently and unobtrusively, effected the greatest changes on the everyday life of nations, meet with but little attention and command but faint praise. I question much if many of us ever recollect, when sipping our tea or coffee, morning and evening, and perhaps glancing at the china cup which holds it, how or when the material was discovered, or what people did without it in the "good old times."

My musings were interrupted by the very question I had been thinking of— "Who was the first European porcelain maker," asked one of my friends; and I paused to reply, and to recollect the little I knew on the subject.

In the year 1702 or 3, John Frede rick Böttcher, a native of Berlin, and assistant to an apothecary, from the nature of his private pursuits, and from his studious habits, became suspected of knowing the great secret of the transmutation of metals. Perhaps he did dabble a little in alchemy-even then a favourite fancy with learned men. However it may be, poor Böttcher soon found men shun him and pass him coldly in the streets, a threat often met his ear against wizards and sorcerers, and his master began to think that his removal would be a prudent step; his quiet life thus interrupted, and matters daily growing worse, he fled into Saxony to avoid persecution.

Augustus II., Elector of Saxony, was fond of the occult sciences, and sent for Böttcher to question him if he knew how to make gold. His steadfast and resolute denial convinced the Elector that his surmise was correct, and that in securing Böttcher, he made sure at the same time of incalculable wealth for himself and his country, so disregarding the earnest and repeated denials of the student, he placed him in confinement under the close surveillance of his head

chemist, Ischirnhaus, who was engaged in the wild pursuit of the philosopher's stone.

Some years elapsed, during which Böttcher worked hard in the laboratory of his scientific gaoler; but, much to the chagrin of the Elector, the wished-for gold did not make its appearance.

Having prepared some crucibles of the common brown clay found near Meissen, a village in the vicinity of Dresden, they accidentally assumed all the characteristics of oriental porcelain, except that the ware was red; one step led to another, and one experiment was succeeded by a series, until, in 1709, Böttcher produced a beautiful white porcelain, when the Elector established a great manufactory at Meissen, but did not recognise the merit of Böttcher until 1720, when he was made Director, and, in 1725, he had the satisfaction of seeing his porcelain the most perfect in the world, eagerly sought after, and commanding the highest prices.

"A lucky philosopher's stone for him," said my companion. "But what about the establishment here."

"Oh! quite a romance also," I replied; "to whom do you imagine we owe this beautiful museum, these splendid specimens ? to Madame de Pompadour!"

Madame de Pompadour!

Yes; that lady, with all her faults, of which we need not speak here, was a strenuous patroness of the fine arts; and amongst her useful actions, she prevailed upon the easy-going Louis the Fifteenth, to establish the royal manufactory at Sèvres, which had till then been in the hands of a company. She employed the first artists of the day to design and paint the vases she ordered, and her boudoir became the receptacle of the most costly and magnificent specimens of the art; the taste of the nation was in unison with her own, and no room was complete without a souvenir of Sèvres. Since her day, succeeding Governments have spared no expense, and the productions are still as celebrated as ever; while, under the direction of M. Ebelman, the national

fame of Sèvres porcelain is likely to remain undiminished. Among the many exquisite examples which we saw of the excellence attained in its manufacture at present, I particularly noticed, and secretly coveted, a tea service in purple and gold; I christened it "the Hero Service," for each cup was embellished with a well-executed portrait of some distinguished person. There were Bacon, Voltaire, Richelieu, Shakspeare, Scott, Cervantés, and half-a-dozen others: it was a gem for a man with literary tastes; but as each cup was worth eight or ten pounds, its cost would be very great. As for the magnificent vases, those at the Great Exhibition were vastly inferior to some at Sèvres, which are indeed splendid enough for royal presents.

Besides the porcelain manufactory, painting and etching on copper are carried on in a variety of styles, but I regret not having seen the process.

I was surprised to learn that the greater proportion of the clay used at Sèvres, is brought from Cornwall, as that of the Paris basin is now nearly exhausted; so that, save in skill, we are superior to our French neighbours; and I almost question whether some of the beautiful examples of English ceramic art, which stood examination in the Exhibition, are at all inferior to any of the Continental productions.

Our hour wore on rapidly, and it was with regret I left the manufactory, and once again sauntered down the avenue. Shall I confess it, the next five minutes saw us ensconced in a shady arbour of a village auberge, idly drinking the white Bière de Strasbourg". the name of which had attracted our attention, and whose merits we were now discussing with surprising zest and eagerness. Burton, Bass, Drogheda, Castlebellingham, and a dozen other ales and beers were debated with all the warmth of Irishmen; and now, quietly remembering the pretty arbour, with its clustering green leaves, the odd hostess, and her high cap, and the animated group, I am tempted to laugh at the recollection, of how strenuously we abused the production of Strasbourg, and yet ended by finishing all the bottles placed before us.

Refreshed by our rest, and having left the arbour, we proceeded towards the Park of St. Cloud, stopping for a

minute, at the request of one of the party, to examine into the nature of some extraordinary pastry which we saw hung in strings from the ceiling of a shop, and making our own of some tempting plums, a few minutes brought us to the gate of St. Cloud.

How tranquilly cool were those sombrous walks, how stately those noble trees through which the soft breath of summer stole deliciously, wafting the perfumes of the sweet green fields to us, and producing in the mind that slumberous rest and hush of feeling, so soothing and delightful-but I must not be sentimental, a summer-day should be, and is, joyous, and if a dash of melancholy does come in, it acts as a zest, and one is tempted to repeat "I'm pleased and yet I'm sad"-without knowing the why and the wherefore of his sensations. After all, does analysis of such feeling serve any good purpose-a quiet, gentle, appreciation of the beautiful, is useful and salutary-and both in Nature and in Art, I feel the influence, abandon myself to it, and stop not to inquire the reason of this, or the constituents of that, when my heart tells me that I am enjoying the gifts of the great Creator.

But I digress-up that dim avenue, made by the interlaced branches of the trees, and watching the struggling sunlight, as it produced its quaint mosaic shadows on the ground, we wandered on for some time, until the bright and sparkling waters of a large fountain arrested our attention. The hideous ocean monsters, and the mermaids from whose open mouths the silver water gushed, strange and fantastic though they were, yet, sooth to say, were not disagreeable; whether it was that we had become accustomed to the fashion and style of these ocean gods and goddesses, I know not, but the fountain struck us as being graceful and well designed, and we remained standing beside it watching the changing play of the jets, for a few minutes, during which I recalled a little tale I had once heard regarding it, and which, as I am of a rambling disposition, I may be allowed to tell.

The Emperor Napoleon, or whatever title you give him, had a fancy to reside at St. Cloud-here, he had his restless and giddy capital at his feet, here were quiet walks in which he mused and planned, here he overthrew thrones

in imagination, which afterwards on his battle-fields were to totter in reality, and here he retired to yield to the influence of the love of his devoted Josephine. Before, however, the First Consul had merged into Emperor, there resided at St. Cloud an old director of its gardens, M. Dubois, who, amongst the rare and beautiful plants which it was his delight to tend and cultivate, did not forget a sweeter flower than them all, his only daughter Gabrielle.

Gabrielle Dubois was no common beauty; though lovely in form and in feature, the great, the inexpressible charm of her gentle face was its tender and truthful expression, which, like a sunbeam, lit up all around. Here, in the tranquillity of the quiet St. Cloud, and undisturbed by the stormy scenes of that agitated period, had she grown up to womanhood, and at sixteen was a beautiful union of native gentleness, modesty, and deep feeling. Deep feeling, yes; for all her affections were given to Victor Thevenot, the only son of a late officer of the household, who died in defence of royalty, and left his son almost unprovided for ; and now at eighteen, he found himself with nothing but his father's sword, an ardent spirit, and in love with Gabrielle Dubois.

Down this shaded alley, one summer evening, walked the lovers, engaged in earnest conversation.

"It must be, Gabrielle,” said Victor, "the opening is too good for me to refuse, I must leave thee."

A sob was his reply.

"Dearest, thou knowest I ought to go; a commission in the army is a passport to glory, and I will return-I will return as a hero to claim thee."

"Go, Victor, go, and think not I wish to detain thee! Go, and I will be as happy as I can, for it is thy duty."

It was over-the last tear had been shed, the last sigh heaved, the last farewell whispered, and the last kiss given at the fountain in the park, and Victor Thevenot was gone to join his regiment, and Gabrielle was alone. Years passed on. They heard occasionally from Victor-warm-hearted, kind, impulsive letters he was a lieutenant, he had been wounded he was a captive, he was free-Napoleon gave him the Cross of the Legion of Honour, Captain Thevenot was greatly distinguished-Gabrielle loved on.

Here, in the quiet solitudes of the park, roamed Gabrielle; happy in the consciousness of her love, and rejoicing in the success and honours of her Victor. Here did she assist her father in arranging the lovely exotics which he delighted in; here did she visit the fountain where they had parted; and here flew on her young life's dream most sweetly and most dearly.

The Emperor was at St. Cloudwas Thevenot there? No; promotion had again been his lot, and the Major was with his regiment. How tremb. lingly did Gabrielle gaze on the great ruler of her nation, beholding in him the author of her lover's fortune. Victor's letters had become rarer lately, and more prized by her; and though she sometimes thought he wrote more coldly than before, yet woman's heart once given is ever-trusting and fears nothing.

Again had the war commenced; again had Napoleon hurried to the field, and Colonel Thevenot was one of his Aide-des-camps. Seven years had flown since he had left St. Cloud with nothing but his sword, and now what visions floated before him.

Gabrielle heard of his promotion, but not from himself. Six long weary months had passed without a letter, and her cheek grew paler, and tears would often glisten in her eyes. Dubois marked with grief the fading looks of his beloved child; but none can minister to a "mind diseased."

The Emperor returned. The gay, the brilliant throng which surrounded him, made the old park ring with their joy and laughter; but avoiding them all, she only looked for Victor, and he was not there. Many a handsome ca valier, many a staid courtier, sought the Beauty of St. Cloud; but her smiles, her vivacity, her simple gaiety were gone for ever.

Did she dream-was she awakecould it be true? Alas! yes. Victor Thevenot was to wed another; a beauty of the Empire-an heiress high in favour with Josephine; it was too true.

To a quiet village in Normandy did the afflicted and sorrowful Dubois bear his stricken daughter, hoping that the change of scene and the invigorating air might restore the bloom to her cheek, and the lustre to her eye-and come they did; bright glowed the