water, as late as the 23rd of February. Trees
and houses were alone visible, emerging as from
a vast sea. Cattle were drowned, and
haystacks floated off. All the low lands west of
Lincoln, and those towards Gainsborough, were
submerged for several thousand acres. The
fierce and swollen current swept down a new
bridge at Boultham, the river Witham breaking
its banks. The river at Wisbeach rising eight
feet, it required tremendous efforts to save the
bridge from the packs of floating ice. For two
days, gangs of men and an ice-boat with eighteen
horses were incessantly at work. The old
wooden bridge over the Trent at Markham,
near Newark, a well-known nuisance on the
great north road, gave way, just after the
heavily laden Worksop and Manchester waggon
had passed over it.

By degrees the inundations subsided and the
snow melted, showing once more the black earth
and the keen green blades of young corn.
Even the great mountains of ice and congealed
snow that had been carted into Moorfields, and
had given it the passing name of " New
Iceland," melted too; and so, with its bursts of
pleasure and its many tragedies of sorrow,
passed away the great frost of 1814.

MOVING (DIORAMIC) EXPERIENCES.

THE diorama is a demesne that seems to be
strictly preserved for the virtuous and good.
Those for whom the gaudy sensualities of the
theatre are interdicted may here be entertained
with the mild and harmless joys of an instructive
diorama. At the doors going in, we may see
the quality of the guests—benevolent-looking
elderly men, dry virgins, a clergyman or two,
and portly mammas with a good deal on their
minds, who have brought the governess and all
their young family. There is a crowd, and
extraordinary eagerness to get in, though there, alas!
often proves to be too much room. For these
moral shows address themselves only to a limited
area; though the limited area does not come
forward so handsomely as it should do. Among such
audiences there is a more resentful and jealous
feeling about points of disagreement between them
to the entertainment, such as not commencing
—returning money and the like; the umbrellas
and sticks, it may be remarked, are made more
use of—I mean in the way of creating noise and
the word " Shame!" is uttered from the back
benches with more burning indignation. How
often on the first night, say, of the Grand Moving
Diorama of the Tonga Islands, when there has
been a long delay, and something fatally wrong
in the gasworks of the little town has prevented
the despairing exhibitor from doing much more
than show dim pictures, and transformations that
miscarried dreadfully, how often have we not
seen a bald head and glassy spectacles rise out
of the Cimmerian gloom to which the character
of the show inevitably consigns its audiences,
and in what seems sepulchral accents address
us on our wrongs. "We learn by our excellent
weekly organ— not the one we hear in our place
of worship—that this is Mr. Laycock, our
"worthy" fellow-citizen, who has been for years
a resident. He thinks we have been treated
badly—outrageously; in fact, in the whole course
of his long residence at Dunmacleary—then
umbrellas and sticks give a round—he never
recollected an audience—a highly intelligent and
respectable audience (sticks and umbrellas
again)—treated with such disrespect. What
they had seen that night was a miserable and
inefficient thing—a wretched imposture and take-
in" (sticks again). The poor showman is always
helpless, and from his "stand," where he had
been in such luxuriant language describing the
beauties of foreign lands, excitedly defends
himself, to cries of " No, no," and umbrella interruptions.
It was not his fault. He had arrived
late "in their town." He had been up all night
(" Return the money"). It was the fault of their
gasworks (groans), and he would mention
names. Yes, of Mr. John Cokeleigh, the secretary
(" Shame"), who assured him (great
interruption at this unworthy attempt to defame the
absent).

A really good diorama is a really high
treat, and for the young an entertainment second
only to the pantomime. Parents should
encourage this feeling, instead of serving out those
little sugar-plums, which are so precious to a
child, as if they were dangerous and forbidden
fruit, which might corrupt the morals and
corrupt the soul. These joys are always made to
hang awfully in the balance on the turn of a
feather-weight, as it were—by well-meaning but
injudicious parents.

Alas! do I not recal Mr. Blackstone, our daily
tutor, a steady, conscientious, poor, intellectual
"navvy," who was reading nominally "for
orders," but, as it proved, for a miserable curacy,
which he still holds, and I believe will hold, till he
reaches sixty. This excellent man kept a mother
and sisters " on me and a few more boys," that is
to say, by coining for two hours each day on tutorship.
Mr. Blackstone kept a little judgment-book
with surprising neatness, in which are entries
which scored down, with awful rigidness,
Latin, bene; Greek, satis; French, medi. This
volume was submitted every evening at dinner
to the proper authority, and by its testimony
we were used according to our deserts, and, it
may be added, with the result which the rare
instinct of the Lord Hamlet anticipated on using
people after their deserts. During this course
of instruction, it came to pass that the famous
Diorama of the North Pole arrived in our city.
It had indeed been looked for very wistfully and
for a long time, and its name and description
displayed on walls in blue and white stalactite
letters, apparently hanging from the eaves of
houses, stimulated curiosity. Indeed, I had the
happiness of seeing the North Pole actually
arrive, not as it might be present to romantic
eyes, all illuminated from behind, and in a state