patched fustian trousers; one, the youngest,
had a pair of white trousers, very smart,
tucked into a pair of long boots—he was the
dandy, I presume; some smoked short pipes;
all were in the highest and most uproarious
spirits. Their costume would have been dear
in Holywell Street at twenty shillings, and
their horses cheap at Tattersall's at one
hundred pounds. These were a party of
gentlemen squatters coming down after a year
or two in the bush, to transact business and
refresh in the great city of Australia.

DEATH IN THE TEAPOT.

BY the help of Mr. Slivers, we were enabled
in a recent number to expose to an injured
public some of the ingredients of metropolitan
milk—"London Genuine particular." A
correspondent now makes a further revelation of
how our tea-pots are defiled when it is
innocently supposed that a pure beverage is in
course of concoction.

"A short time since," he says, "a friend of
mine, a chemist in Manchester, was applied
to for a quantity of French chalk, a species
of talc, in fine powder; the party who
purchased it, used regularly several pounds a
week; not being an article of usual sale in
such quantity, our friend became curious to
know to what use it could be applied; on
asking the wholesale dealer who supplied
him, he stated his belief, that it was used in
'facing' tea (the last process of converting
black tea into green), and that within the last
month or two, he had sold in Manchester
upwards of a thousand pounds of it. Our
friend the chemist then instituted a series of
experiments, and the result proved that a great
deal, if not all the common green tea used in
this country is coloured artificially. The very
first experiment demonstrated fraud. The
plan adopted was as follows:—A few spoonfuls
of green tea at five shillings a pound,
were placed on a small sieve, and held under
a gentle stream of cold water flowing from a
tap for the space of four or five minutes.
The tea quickly changed its colour from
green to a dull yellow, and upon drying with
a very gentle heat gradually assumed the
appearance of ordinary black tea. On making
a minute microscopic examination of the
colouring matter washed from the leaf, and
which was caught in a vessel below, it
appeared to be composed of three substances,
particles of yellow, blue, and white. The
blue was proved to be Prussian blue—the
yellow thought to be the turmeric, and the
white, French chalk. If the two former be
mixed together in very fine powder, they will
give a green of any required shade. It is
made to adhere to the tea-leaf by some
adhesive matter, and then it is "faced" by the
French chalk, to give it the pearly appearance
so much liked,

"This simple experiment any one can
perform. A gentleman assured me that a friend
of his a short time since happened—though
quite unintentionally—on his part, to walk
into a private room connected with the
establishment of a wholesale tea-dealer, and
there he saw the people actually at work
converting the black tea into green; the
proprietor soon discovered his presence in the
room, and before him, in no measured terms,
severely reprimanded the workmen for having
permitted a stranger to enter."

CITY GRAVES.

I WALKED straight through the gathering fog,
   By drains and ditches fed,
Until I saw the City church
   High towering over head,
And came to where the grave-yard holds
   Its half-unburied dead!

Hard by the Thames, those high-piled graves
   Higher and higher grow,
Where living men, at morn and eve,
   By thousands come and go;
Where ledgers pile the desks above,
   And gold lies hid below.

Within those walls, the peace of death—
   Without, life's ceaseless din;
The toiler, at his work, can see
   The tombs of his mouldering kin;
And the living without, grow, day by day,
   More like the dead within.

I saw the wheezy beadle pause,
   Panting with gold and lace,
He turned the key in its creaking lock,
   With handkerchief over his face.
And pale-faced urchins gambolled round
   The "consecrated" place.

I saw from out the earth peep forth
   The white and glistening bones,
With jagged ends of coffin-planks,
   That e'en the worm disowns;
And once a smooth round skull rolled on,
   Like a football, on the stones.

I thought of those who bear the sounds
   Of Life across the foam,
In foreign climes, in savage lands,
   Who rear Religion's dome;
They might have taught our rulers first
   To spare our lives at home.

Too late the wished-for boon has come,
   Too late wiped out the stain—
No Schedule shall restore to health,
   No Act give life again
To the thousands whom, in bygone years,
   Our City Graves have slain!

THE HUNTERIAN MUSEUM.

LONDON is full of strong contrasts, and one of
them may be met with in Lincoln's-Inn Fields.
Two large public buildings adorn that fine
open square—as different in character, appearance,
associations, and objects as two structures
could be—the one appertaining to law,
and the other to physic.

Lincoln's-Inn Hall is a noble-looking place,
in the English style that perhaps suits our