colouring of pictures and the arrangement of
nosegays, are further taught to enjoy, not
merely what is bright, but also what is
harmonious and beautiful.

We have not left ourselves as much space
as is requisite to show how truly all such
labour becomes play to the child. Fourteen
years' evidence suffices for a demonstration
of the admirable working of a system of this
kind; but as we think there are some
parents who may be willing to inquire a little
further into the subject here commended
earnestly to their attention, we will end by
a citation of the source from which we have
ourselves derived what information we
possess.

At the educational exhibition in St.
Martin's Hall last year, there was a large
display of the material used and results
produced in Infant Gardens, which attracted
much attention. The Baroness von Marenholtz,
enthusiastic in her advocacy of the
childrens' cause, came then to England, and
did very much to procure the establishment
in this country of some experimental
infant gardens. By her, several months ago—
and at about the same time by M. and
Madame Ronge who had already established
the first English infant garden—our attention
was invited to the subject. We were
also made acquainted with M. Hoffman, one
of Froebel's pupils, who explained the system
theoretically at the Polytechnic Institution.
When in this country, the Baroness von
Marenholtz published a book called Woman's
Educational Mission: being an explanation
of Frederick Froebel's System of Infant
Gardens. We have made use of the book
in the preceding notice, but it appeared
without the necessary illustrations, and is
therefore a less perfect guide to the
subject than a work published more recently
by M. and Madame Ronge: A Practical
Guide to the English Kindergarten. This
last book we exhort everybody to consult
who is desirous of a closer insight into
Froebel's system than we have been able here
to give. It not only explains what the
system is; but, by help of an unstinted supply
of little sketches, enables any one at once to
study it at home and bring it into active
operation. It suggests conversations, games;
gives many of Froebel's songs, and even
furnishes the music (which usually consists
of popular tunes—Mary Blane, Rousseau's
Dream, &c.) to which they may be sung.
Furthermore, it is well to say that any one
interested in this subject, whom time and
space do not forbid, may see an Infant Garden
in full work by calling on a Tuesday morning
between the hours of ten and one on M. and
Madame Ronge, at number thirty-two,
Tavistock Place, Tavistock Square. That day
these earliest and heartiest of our established
infant gardeners have set apart, for the help
of a good cause, to interruptions and investigations
from the world without: trusting, of
course, we suppose, that no one will
disturb them for the satisfaction of mere idle
curiosity.

     UNFORTUNATE JAMES DALEY.

THROUGH what inadvertent misapprehension
relative to the laws of mine and thine
the late unfortunate Mr. James Daley came to
be exiled from his native country, Ireland, to
which he was so bright and conspicuous an
ornament, I have had no means of ascertaining.
That he was so exiled—that is to say,
transported beyond the seas, does not admit
of a doubt, for I find him to have been a
convict in the penal settlement of Botany Bay,
in or about the year seventeen hundred and
eighty-eight.

Anno Domini seventeen hundred and
eighty-eight was a real annus mirabilus.
Many millions of persons were born and
died in every month, week, day, hour,
minute, and second of that year: the sun
shone with great brilliancy over an
immense space of territory; copious showers
of rain fell from the heavens; and it is on
indisputable record that at one period of the
winter, snow covered a considerable portion
of the earth's surface. In the year
'eighty-eight departed from Rome all that was
immortal from that miserably mortal amalgam
of the lees of wine, the bitter ashes of Dead
Sea apples, the weeds and tares of unchecked
passions, the withered flowers of hope, and
youth, and honour, that was once Charles
Edward Stuart, to the vast majority of his
contemporaries the young pretender; but, on
some cherished medals, and on Canova's
tombstone, and in some stout Scottish hearts,
still Charles the Third, King of Great Britain,
France, and Ireland. This same 'eighty-eight,
too, flourished, in New South Wales, the
unfortunate James Daley.

The life and motives of Mr. Daley are
enveloped in mystery which no person has
yet thought it worth his while to solve.
Mr. Daley was transported, but for what
crime even, does not, as I have premised,
appear. Whether he was a defender, a
thrasher,' a whiteboy, a peep o' day boy, or
a member of any other occult society of
Irish Philadelphi; or whether with a noble
disdain of the factious acrimonies of politics
he had, inverting Goldsmith's remark on
Burke, given up for mankind what was
meant for party, and so confined himself to
larceny; whether he was a victim whose
expatriation is to be numbered among
Ireland's wrongs, or a scoundrel of whom his
country was well rid, must remain a doubt,
subject to the everlasting if, the everlasting
perhaps, and the everlasting why. Unless,
indeed, any body should take the trouble to
rout out the Irish sessions papers, or gaol
returns (if any existed), for the year seventeen
hundred and eighty-eight.

James Daley's misfortunes are over, and