tigers, leopards, and birds of splendid plumage;
among which the English pheasant, king-fisher,
and goldfinch, find equal positions of honour.
English horses, and fine specimens of our dogs,
are also painted with great care and finish.
Fruits of various kinds are also in abundance,
and flowers and foliage, of course. These are
all surrounded and entwined with beautiful
work of the kind commonly called arabesque,
though the Italian artists who are engaged
upon them, inform me that in Italy they
designate this style of work as "Raffaelesque".
It is composed of all sorts of exquisitely
graceful foliage, tendrils, and scroll-work, in
the most delicate colours, and also in gold.
Some of them remind me of paintings on fine
porcelain. Nothing of the kind can be more
chaste and beautiful; and the general effect
of these paintings combines richness with
grace, and splendour with delicate taste, in a
degree rarely seen. They at once reflect
great credit on the taste of the Italian artists
and Mr. Bielefeld, and on the Greek
merchants who have shown such good judgment
in their selection of an English manufacturer.

We should not forget that there is a
Pavilion made entirely of these slabs, which is
to be placed upon the deck. The paintings of
birds, fruit, and flowers, as well as the designs
in gold, are of the most elegant description.

But I must return to London. The train
soon whirls me back, and I make my way
directly to the show-rooms and manufactory
of Mr. Bielefield in Wellington Street, North.
I enter, and the first thing that catches my
atttention—amidst an endless variety of
picture-frames, mouldings, cornices, brackets,
alto-relievi, bas-reliefs, busts (apparently in
plaster, in white marble, and in dark-coloured
marble), figures, chimney-ornaments,
monumental tablets, looking-glass frames, ceiling
ornaments, and articles of furniture—is an
immense eagle, swinging from an archway,
and seeming to forbid advance into the suite
of show-rooms beyond. This eagle is a
model or counterpart of a set—I forget how
many there were—made for the Pavilion at
Brighton; a chandelier hanging by a chain
from each of their necks. But I am still
more confounded by a dragon, that lies
crouching on the ground behind a heap of
shafts and capitals, and magnificent centre
ornaments for ceilings. This dragon is large
enough to swallow St. George and his horse
too, and still not seem much swollen by the
meal. He is so large, they are obliged to
unship his wings in order to find accommodation
for him. He is the counterpart of four
monsters of the same size, made for the same
Pavilion, who held each by a chain from their
mouths, large and massive chandeliers. So
much for ornaments of the minutest work,
and so much for monsters. All made of paper
—or rather, according to this new patent, of
old rag-pulp.

Here, too, I behold an architectural capital
—the same immense piece of art-manufacture
that stood upon a correspondingly huge
shaft on the ground-floor of the Great
Exhibition. It measures twenty-two feet in
circumference at the top. This is the counterpart
of four of the same size that were sent
out by Mr. Bielefeld for the Bank in Australia.
(I rejoice to hear that the colonists there
are in so flourishing a state as this seems to
indicate). Now, if this prodigious capital
were painted, grained, varnished, and polished
to resemble a carving in oak, and set up on its
shaft, in a grand hall, nobody could possibly
discern the difference; and, if painted now
and then, it would last a hundred years, and
more. But, if such a capital were really to
be carved in oak, it would cost, at least, from
a hundred and sixty, to two hundred pounds;
whereas this one might be had, perhaps, for
thirty. In the same proportion of cost, or
probably at much less, may picture frames (of
this wonderful old-rag composition) be had,
resembling oak, maple, ebony, or even bronze,
and in rich open-work patterns, so as to defy
detection at a few yards' distance. All these,
and all other manufactures, in which elegance,
or grandeur, or beauty of form, and general
fine taste, are brought within the means of
the great majority of the educated—aiding as
they also do in the education and refinement of
the mass of the people—are among the most
cheering signs and tokens of progress in our
present day.

"The frames of Mr. Bielefeld" (says the
"Art-Union," and I fully coincide in the
opinion of the writer") present the best
characteristics of fine carving: the course of
the chisel, though subdued, is everywhere
apparent, and the liberal resort to
undercutting, and occasionally nearly alto-relief,
realise the peculiar finesse and spirit of the
best manipulists amongst the old carvers in
wood; substituting for the dull, prim, and
mechanical mediocrity of works in putty
composition, an easy, liberal, and artistic dexterity
in the execution, which must be appreciated
by every lover of the excellent. They may be
recommended also, on other grounds; when
conveyed from place to place, (to Provincial
Exhibitions, for example,) they are liable to
no injury from chipping, as the common
frames are; we have seen the effect of a
picture entirely ruined, in consequence of the
frame being shattered during transit. An
essential advantage also is, that these frames
weigh no more than half the weight of the
usual frames of the same size. We strongly
urge upon artists to visit this establishment,
and examine for themselves."

The premises in Wellington Street for these
manufactures, are laid out in different
departments. In the basement there is a
steam-engine with all its appurtenances. It is
applied to drive lathes, and machinery of
various kinds; and the steam is applied to
warming every room and work-place. The
ground-floor is laid out in show-rooms, the
contents of which I have already indicated,