in a complete series the various parts in
which workmen are severally employed and
the various steps by which it approaches
completion." This has not been carried
out to any great extent, but something of
the kind has been done. As to the "dish
to prevent dishonest bakers from purloining,"
it is one of the queer conceits sure
to find entrance into such a collection; as
to the large equatorial telescope made by a
baker, it is really a remarkable specimen
of amateur workmanship; as to the specimens
lent by the India Department and the
South Kensington Museum, they are such
as we have all seen elsewhere; as to the
Italian sculptures, many of them are very
beautiful; and as to the bazaar-like trinkets,
they call for no notice. Taking the
display as a whole, however—despite the
disturbing influences of war—it marks an
interesting stage in the recognition of the
workman element in industrial exhibitions.

WANING.

THE autumn days are waning, and the gold is on the
leaf,
The gold and crimson tint that paints with splendour
bright and brief
The grand old oaks. The copper-red is on the bending
beech,
The brown nuts rustle ripe and full above the schoolboy's
reach.
The swallows gather 'neath the eaves; the first dull
cloudy day
Will bear them all, on eager wings, to sunnier climes
away:
So is it oft, with us, alas! Our brief bright summer
ends.
Comes winter resolute and stern; away troop summer
friends.
The last rose blushes on her stem, in beauty all alone,
Weeps summer gone, and sighs upon her solitary
throne;
So is it with us at life's end. What reck, or pomp, or
gold,
If hairs grow grey, and we without some light of love,
grow old?
Pray God, there be not, one of us, whoever he may be,
Without some friend whom he may love, some child
upon his knee!
True love and friendship ever shine, with lustre all
their own,
Since man was never made to live, and work, and die—
alone!

LOST WITH THE DEAD.

THE recollections that crowd upon my
memory as I watch day by day the attitude
of France and Prussia, carry me back
to the battle-fields of 1859-60 in Europe,
but more especially to the lengthened
conflict between the Northern and Southern
sections of the great American people.
For nearly four years I assisted at almost
every engagement of magnitude, fought
through the length and breadth of states
that, individually, might have compared
with many European kingdoms in size and
extent.

It may be interesting, at this time, to the
reader, before I relate some personal
experience of one of the hardest stricken fields
of the American war, to hear something
of the bearing of a young army, on the
night preceding its first great battle, that
of Manassas. This passage of arms I
witnessed from the Northern side, not having
yet succeeded in reaching the Southern
lines. It must be remembered that the
troops composing both armies were mainly
volunteers, who had never heard a shot
fired in anger, and in the Federal ranks,
with the exception of the foreign
mercenaries, none had met the enemy face to
face. Through the courtesy of one of the
Northern commanders, I was enabled to
accompany the Federal army to the field,
and follow its movements till driven back
in a routed condition on Washington.

My first bivouac-experiences with an
American army contrasted strangely with
the finished professional manner of the
French and Sardinians, with whom I had
recently been campaigning, and even with
the irregular style of doing business of the
Garibaldini, whose legions I had
accompanied in Sicily and Southern Italy. Shortly
after darkness had shrouded the camp, the
whole of our division was disturbed and
thrown into more or less confusion by a
rattling fire of musketry, and it was not
many seconds before I had shaken off my
blanket and risen to my feet, with the full
conviction, that a night attack was being
made by the Southerners, whom we knew
to be scarcely five miles from us. General
Slocum, who had offered me such hospitality
as his commissariat admitted of, and by
whose side I was lying, quietly smoking,
when the alarm rang out, rushed to the
skirt of wood in which his men were
camped, and from whence the firing came,
and found that his pickets had been scared
by the pickets from a Maine brigade,
bivouacked in the clearing beyond, and,
neither waiting to challenge, both had in
mortal terror blazed away into each other.
Fortunately little or no harm was done, the
shooting being of the wildest description.
Almost immediately following this lively
episode, an orderly rode up to General
Slocum, and handed him an order, which
soon put the camp in another bustle. The
instructions were for his brigade to be