has the descriptive name of native devil; where
the pig-footed bandicoot wears his apron-pocket
as well as the best of them; and Norfolk Island
contributes a flying squirrel, like any other flying
squirrel. And then I turned to the marmosets,
which have always been great favourites of mine.
And then to the marmoset monkeys, with the
midas rosalia, or silky tamarind, the prettiest
little beast alive. The lion monkey, the smallest
monkey of all, is also a very lovely thing, with
its shaggy brow, as shaggy and intelligent as a
Maltese lion-dog's or Skye terrier's, and with
none of the disagreeable characteristics of its
tribe.

And now I went along the monkey cases; and
there I saw the kahau, or long-nosed monkey—
so like a friend of mine,—the nest-building ape,
the long-armed gibbons, the chimpanzee, the
orang-outan, and the terrible gorilla, which
caricature humanity so closely, and make one
shudder at the theory of "links." And yet, what
if, in very truth, the grandfather of all life
should be a polype, and an ape the parent of
humanity? Long-tailed monkeys and tailless
apes, preacher monkeys, green monkeys,
blue-nosed baboons, Diana monkeys, widow monkeys,
howling monkeys, spider monkeys and sapajous,
funny little monkeys all mirth and mischief, and
fierce old sinner monkeys with bad consciences
and worse instincts—all were there, not one
wanting. And with each his natural conditions
of favourite haunt and favourite food; and
representations on paper of what could not be
preserved in substance.

In another room were the bones of every
beast and bird and fish known to man; and all
collected together so that the student of
comparative anatomy might have at least the framework
to begin on. And up-stairs were insects,
birds, and plants; but I had not time to look
at them all in one day; so I left them for the
present, until I should go again to Bloomsbury,
and walk again through the galleries of the
noblest museum in all the world.

Alas! In the world of the future though; not
in the world of the present. Many of the
creatures that I have named, hundreds that I have
not spoken of, are mouldering in the vaults
under the British Museum, or are deep in the
sea, or are tight in the rock, or are away in the
desert and the jungle; but all are accessible, if
we will follow the advice of our greatest living
naturalist, and spend so many thousand pounds
in making our museum of natural history what
it ought to be—the best, the completest, the
largest, the most capacious in the world; with
every specimen fairly displayed, and all
accessories of habitation, locality, and habits, shown
and explained as well.

This magnificent Museum exists at present
only in the charming anticipation of it sketched
by PROFESSOR OWEN, with his own ardent love
of Nature, his own profound knowledge of her,
and with the modesty and gentleness that his
great learning has confirmed in his nature. Such
a museum will exist, in England, one day; and
when that day comes to pass, I hope the English
people will remember who designed it, and will
call it by the name of their famous countryman.

AN INTERESTING YOUNG PERSON.

JOHN never deceived me but once. It was
when we were staying in town. We had been
dining out, and, on returning home at night,
John suddenly stopped the brougham at (of all
places in the world) the top of Saint Martin's-lane,
saying he would walk the remainder of the
way, and smoke his cigar. I remember he had
on a peculiarly rough old coat, my aversion,
over his dinner-dress, and also that he wore his
worst hat.

He did not come home till half-past one!

I was up before him in the morning, and
seeing this coat in the ante-room, which was
already redolent of tobacco, took it up to put it
in the hall, when out fell a little printed bill.
There was a woodcut at the top, representing
two horrid men, very scantily attired, squaring
at each other with hands nearly as big as their
heads; and the bill announced that Bigge
Brooser, the celebrated champion of the catch-
weights, and Jack Whopley, of Preston, had
kindly consented to " set-to" on the occasion of
Mike Maggles's benefit, when a delightful treat
might be confidently expected.

This is the reason that John's cigar took two
hours and a half to smoke!

We left London. Once more in our sweet
quiet village, and much occupied with my
darling Tiddlepops, from whom I had been separated
nearly three weeks, I had .almost forgotten the
circumstance above mentioned, when I happened
to go into the library to see what new books
John had ordered. I declare I think he pricks
off the first half-dozen on the list of new
publications, and takes his chance. Two works on
India; one on the Arctic regions; The Booby
Brothers, by Lady Selina Phiskin; Over Yonder,
by the Honourable Rufus Wiggles, of Alabama,
with portrait of the author in full English
costume. Then some pamphlets, then a newspaper,
John's favourite, with no fewer than eight
columns of what the dreadful editor calls " fistic
matter," besides all sorts of extraordinary
Answers to Correspondents; such as, "Nosey;
Yes." "B.; We should say a milksop." "Phil
Bounce; We think you'd better." Advertisements,
too: " Alf Bramble invites his friends
and admirers to a select harmonic meeting."
Young Phizgig's benefit, complete ovation.
"Dozey Buggs indignantly denies, ever refused,
fight Porkey Steggars,' &c. &c. &c.

I threw the paper aside, and sat down in
John's chair to reflect a little. I had something
on my mind. For some time past, there had
been a singular change in my husband's demeanour.
He was not ill, for I had observed that
his appetite, though capricious, had by no means
failed him; and he took his usual out-door
exercise without much apparent fatigue; but he
seemed anxious, irritable, indifferent to the things
in which he hitherto had taken the greatest