recollection of a recent dinner on the top of a tree,
with Robinson Crusoe, who was appropriately
decorated with a pink bonnet and a parasol.

WHAT IS NOT CLEAR ABOUT THE
CRYSTAL PALACE.

WE have not yet formed a very strong
opinion on the question, whether we shall
keep the glass building, euphuistically called
"The Crystal Palace," on its present site,
"and have riding and walking in all weathers
among flowers, fountains, and sculpture," as
the pamphlet of Denarius proposes. To
the question put by the title-page of Mr.
Paxton's pamphlet, "What is to become of
the Crystal Palace?" we have nothing yet
ready in the way of a distinct reply. There
are gentlemen, however, who consider that
notes of interrogation addressed to the public,
must receive answers from each member of
the public individually. A portion of the
stream of answers consequently pouring in
upon us, we divert through our own proper
channel, and distribute for the irrigation of
the country. The following is from a gentleman,
who signs himself " A Neighbour to the
Nuisance."

"Sir,—In the old days, when a true Briton
lived in his hut, and made his fire on the clay
floor, and received morning calls from stray
dogs, pigs, or other parlour guests of the
period, a law was made, to which I now call
your considerate attention. Sir, by the laws
of Hoel Dha, it was decreed, that if a pig
scatter fire and burn a house, his master
pays; but if the house and pig be burnt
together, nobody shall pay, 'because they both
are stupid.' Sir, I own more than one house
in the immediate neighbourhood of the Great
Exhibition; that speculation, sir, has been
the pig that scattered, and at this moment is
scattering, the fire about my property. Out
of the value of my estate, during the present
year, ten thousand pounds have been taken,
by what I (speaking of the thing as I find it)
call a Monster Nuisance. It is to me as if
this pig, scattering fire, had burned down one
or two of my best houses. Am I to have no
compensation for this injury? ' If a pig scatter
fire and burn a house, his master pays.' The
master of the pig in question is the public.
'If house and pig,' says Hoel Dha, 'be burnt
together, nobody shall pay.' Is, then, the
Exhibition stupid? No, sir, the porculation,
or the fattening thereof, goes on from day
to day, although from day to day my
substance lessens. The master of this monster
can afford to pay me compensation; will he
do so, sir, or will he not? Etymologists
derive the hog's name from a Hebrew verb,
which means, they tell us, to encompass or
surround, This verb may typify the bulk of
the whole nuisance, which extends to us
unfortunate surrounding householders. And,
alas! there is another theory, deriving hog
from an Arabic word, which means, sir, to
have narrow eyes. To retain this Exhibition
Building for some yet unsettled purpose, will,
I have no doubt, benefit the public; and it
would be well if a general gain could be
obtained, in a matter like this, without the
infliction of a private loss. But I fear that
our hog means, in the present instance, to
have narrow eyes, and shut out of view your
humble servant."

The next letter is dated Irom the shop of a
distinguished quack professor.

"Mr. Conductor,—I hope you know better
than to see the public gammoned into a
continuance of the advertisement of Morison's Pills
in the Great Exhibition for a constancy. I
understand that an idea has been broached of
perpetuating the present industrial display,
by permitting those who have stalls to retain
them, for to make exhibition from year to
year of their improvements. To the regular
trader, this would be unjest. It is no joke to
me, Mr. Conductor, to go now into that
gallery, where I see a case full of medals that
is put in on account of Morison's Pills, with
a long inscription about Morison's discovery,
when my discovery is noninwentus, where I
didn't send it in. It is a mixture of which,
one teaspoonful took fasting will reduce a
fracture, and dislocations are reduced in one
minute by smelling at the bottle. If inventions
are to be continually exhibited, then let us
inventors all come in, or let a pick and choice
be made of me and other good ones, leaving
out Morison. I am."

The next is a short note from a young lady.

"Dear, dear Mr. Conductor,— Mamma tells
me that people are at a loss what to do with
the Crystal Palace, if they do not take it
down. Do, please, dear, dear sir, put a word in
for those lovely shawls, and those sweet muslin,
dresses. It is so tiresome having to stop in those
nasty streets, where people smoke and push
about; and it's so dusty always that one cannot
see for dust, or else so dirty, that one is knee-
deep in puddle. I never enjoyed shop windows
till now, and I have looked at many. O
the dear Exhibition, where you look at all the
shops, and need not buy! but if you can
persuade dear Pa to get you anything, there's
always the address attached, and you know
where to tell him to go. Dear Mr. Conductor,
we shall never love shop windows in the dirty
streets again. For the sake of the ladies, I
appeal to you, sir, as a gentleman, to
recommend the Commissioners to give the down
stairs part to Mr. Swan and Mr. Edgar, for a
show room of drapery, and let Mr. Hunt and
Mr. Roskell have the galleries for darling
jewels; and please tell them to send away the
policemen who stand at the jewel cases, and
keep crying— the parrots— 'Move on, ladies;
move on, if you please;' les barbares. Dear
Mr. Conductor, please, dear, help me, and
I will never use anything but ' Household