name of Æthalia, which the Greeks gave it
when it blazed over the nightly sea with Etruscan
furnaces, is doubtful. The island was then,
no doubt, thickly wooded. Now it is very bare
of fuel However, coal can be sent cheaply by
sea, and in our own country we see, in the case
of the Westbury iron-earth, that it pays to bring
fuel to the ore if only the ore is rich enough.
We have already taught the Elbans something.
They used to neglect the old refuse-heaps lying
in the Etruscan and Roman workings, till some
English captains begged to be allowed to take
them away as ballast. It was then found that,
after a little washing to get rid of the accumulated
clay, this rubble was very good ore. It
now sells at nearly seven shillings the ton, the
price of freshly-dug ore being not quite nine
shillings.

We recommend every one who is exploring
Tuscany, or sailing about in the Mediterranean,
to pay a visit to Elba. It is at least as
interesting as Malta, with its "joys of La Valette—
Sirocco, sun, and sweat." it has a history too,
as well as the Island of the Knights of St. John.
Once nearly half its population was carried off
by the pirate Barbarossa; many of them being
rescued and restored, when, in 1535, Charles
the Fifth took Algiers. The wretched weakness
of these Italian coasts, left undefended during
the rule of Appiani, Visconti, Buoncompagni,
and the like, sufficiently explains the sullen
indifference with which the peninsula submitted
to Spanish domination.

But we do not mean to be political. To those
who can, we say "Go and see Elba for
yourselves." To those who cannot, we recommend
M. Simonin's "monograph." It is lively and
truthful.

A BLACK AFFAIR,

WELL, thank 'e, sir, I don't mind if I do. A
little drop of rum, sir, if you please. Rum's
my favourite liquor. I always think, sir, that
there's more for your money, like, looking at it
from all points. As regards quantity, it is not
equal to gin, but, considering the colour and the
flavour, it comes as near brandy as you could
expect for fivepence a quartern. Here's
fortune, sir.

How long have I been in the line? Close
upon five-and-twenty years. You may know
about the time when I tell you that Jim Crow
was all the go; that's a pun, ain't it, sir? My
mates tells me that I could write one of them
Christmas burlesques stunning. You won't
mind if I pun, sir, for I'm fond of fun, sir, and,
between you and me, I like a bun, sir, as sure
as a gun, sir. You see, it comes natural to me,
like. Well, as I was a saying, it is about five-
and-twenty years since I first took to the darkey
business. I was a bit of a boy then, and did
Jim Crow all over the country. I what you
may call propagated him. When Dan Rice
went into the country, he found I had been
before him. All the boys and gals, sir, were
turning about and wheeling about and doin' just
so, long before they saw Dan. I was the man,
sir, that spoilt his plan, sir, for I was the
boy that could can, sir. Well, sir, I won't
pun, if you don't like it. But as I was a saying,
sir, I made my first appearance in Jim Crow—
little Jim Crow they called me—in a black face
and a white pair of trousers. Lor' bless you,
sir, what a thing is experience! At that time of
day we used to black our faces with sut and
tallow-grease, not knowing no better, but since
then, sir, such is the march of intelleck, sir,
science has revealed burnt cork, which is simple
and highly inoxshus. Whatever there may be
a wanting, sir, to man here below, it's not cork.
According to my experience of life, cork is
everywhere, but I regret to say not bottles with
something in them. But cork is all perwading,
and with lucifers, which is also a universal
element, there you are with Ethiopia in your waistcoat-
pocket!

I began with the bones; rose rapidly, owing
to my native genius, to the tambourine,
advanced with giant strides to the banjo, and at
last attained to the proud eminence of the
concertina. I might have retired on a computence
long before now, sir, if it hadn't been for
the——; but why should I mention the word?
What is it that conquers all mankind and makes
cowards of us all, as Shakespeare observes?
What is it? Why the fee-males. Hellen was
the cause of Rob Roy's destruction, as the
song says. The fee-males was the ruin of me;
at least one feemale was. And that fee-male
was my wife.

She was a fine woman, sir, and she is a fine
woman, as ever you would desire to clap your
eyes upon in a summer's day; a foot and a half
taller than me, but no ambition, and such a rasping
temper. For you, sir, or any gent as wasn't
professional, she would have been just the
thing. Tall, sir, high action, a fine figure-head,
and a mole on her left cheek, but domestic.
That's where we didn't hit it—she was domestic;
and when a woman as is married to a professional
is domestic, she can't a-bear you to be out
of her sight. When you are away performing
she gets jealous; not of anybody in particular,
as far as I can make out, but of the public in
general. A domestic wife, sir, in my walk of
life, sir, tends to strife, sir—beg your pardon,
I'm sure, sir; but it's a natural genius which
there's no keeping down; always was witty,
sir; can't help it.

My wife turned out downright unreasonable.
She was for regular hours in the business.
"Ten to five, or a little arter," she used
to say, "is very good hours for a man to be
in business, and a married man ought to be
home and a-bed by ten o'clock." Well, you
know, sir, in my line, that sort of thing won't
do. Nigger serenading ain't like the Bank
of England or Somerset 'Ouse. If Hop
Light Loo is your line, you must do the
best you can; and if you want a sweetheart,
why darkey is your man. Leastwise, sir, I
mean that in my line you can't choose your