temples, were not considered sacred. There are several species including the long-eared, the three-toothed, and two or three other sorts. They are preyed on extensively by the owls, which seem to feed sumptuously on them and the little jerboa, as may be confirmed by examining the disgorged pellets of the former, to be observed in quantities in many of the rock chambers frequented by these birds. There are several species of owls, all of which appear on the monuments, but only in the hieroglyphics and representations of the animal painter. The large-horned individuals as well as the barnowl are generally distributed, but the most common is the passerine owlet (athene meridionalis). This pretty little creature is diurnal in habits, and may be seen in almost any tamarisk or palm grove, and occasionally at the entrance of rat holes. It is the sacred bird of Minerva, but does not seem to have received the same veneration in Egypt that was accorded to it in Rome.

The magnificent painting in the upper gallery of the British Museum, delineated more than a thousand years before Christ, portrays in vivid characters many of the natural objects of Central Africa. It shows Ethiopians bringing their tribute to Rameses the Great. Here, as in all the coloured representations, the artist paints his countrymen maroon red; the negro jet black, and the Oriental pale, with black whiskers, meeting at the chin. The latter people are designed to indicate Asiatics-to wit, Jews and Babylonians. A procession of negroes is seen approaching; the foremost are terrorstruck at being ushered into the presence of the mighty monarch, and are scareely able to drag themselves along as the attendants beckon to them to come on. Each Ethiopian has a leopard's skin round his waist with the tail and feet depending; some have monkeys on their shoulders; some carry skins of wild animals, a herd of long-horned, black and liver-coloured oxen are being driven along; tamed lions are led by halters. The oryx, leopard, ganelle, and a very artistic representation of the cameleopard with several hounds, make up the natural history part of this admirable old-world illustration. So much for the animal painter. No less remarkable is a caricature on papyrus, which, however, bears a far more modern date, and was executed after the Roman conquest. Still, considering the Egyptian origin of the picture, it is well worthy of the inspection of the curious, and might fairly claim a second place with the incomparable vignettes of George Sand, and other famous contributors to the well-known, "Vie privée et publique des animaux." It is on the wall of the staircase in the national collection, the representation includes lions and leopards walking on their hind legs, and playing on fifes and other musical instruments, whilst geese are being driven in procession in front of

them.

FLOWER FANCIES.

PROUDLY the Rose assails comparison,
Since Cupid kissed her on a summer's day;
The redness of his lips her crown hath won,
And poet's sighs around her beauty play.

And Pansies, rich with thought, yield out their lives,
But trouble not the silence with a breath,
Holding no glory that a span survives,
Their purple shrivels at the touch of death.

But shrined in moss and sheltered from the light,
A blossom dreams within spring's flowery lanes,
Rare-hued as amethyst or pensive white,
The chalice of her heart a spell contains.

What secret keeps her tender, fair, and young
In all the stillness of her cloistered gloom,
That dews of Paradise seem softly hung
On the cool buds that wait their fuller bloom?

n;

She troweth not that fate has made her fair
Only to love her being's steadfast aim
She blesses the glad moments of the air
That sings the music prisoned in her name.

The Roses wear the passion of romance,
O'er vanished joys the Pansy casts regret;
But Love enthroned doth give his fondest glance
To the meek vision of the Violet.

ELLYS ERLE.

!

SAINT SYLVESTER'S NIGHT:

A PASSAGE IN THE DIARY OF A TRAVELLING ENTHUSIAST.

From the German of E. T. A. Hoffman.

BY J. LORAINE HEELIS.

PART I.—THE JUSTIZRATH'S PARTY.

CHAPTER I.

THE LOVED ONE.

DEATH, ice-cold death was in my heart, whence sharp icicles seemed to dart forth, piercing the glowing nerves. Forgetting hat ard cloak, I ran out wildly into the dark, stormy night.

The vanes on the turrets creaked and groaned in the blast, as if old Time were audibly moving his eternal terrible clockwork, and as though the dying year, like a heavy clock-weight, would presently fall into the gloomy abyss.

This season of Christmas and the new year, which is to most persons a time of bright and delicious happiness, casts me forth from my peaceful hermitage upon a tumultuous, raging sea.

Christmas! Those are festival days, whose light has long shone towards me: I can scarcely wait for its coming. At Christmas I feel better and kindlier than at any other season of the year. J nourish no dark and hateful thoughts in my breast, which is open to real heavenly happiness. Once more I am a light-hearted boy; angelic faces smile on me from the painted and gilt carved-work in the lighted Christmas stalls, and above the noisy turmoil of the streets, I hear, as from afar off, the solemn tones of the church. organ pealing forth, "For unto us a Child is born."

But after the festival, all is dead, and the light goes out in gloomy darkness. Every year more and more blossoms fall faded to the ground, their germ for ever dead, and no vernal sun kindles new life in their withered leaves. I know this only too well; but the enemy incessantly casts it in my teeth with vindictive malice when the year is drawing to a close.

"See," he whispers in my ear," how many joys have departed never to return! but then, on the other hand, you are so much wiser, and no longer care for frivolous amusements, but have become a more earnest man, who takes pleasure in nothing what

ever."

For St. Sylvester's Eve the devil always reserves a special festival performance. He knows the right moment to drive his sharp claws into my breast, and to feed himself on my life-blood. Everywhere he finds assistance ready to hand, as was the case yesterday at the Justizrath's.

At his house (I mean the Justizrath's) there is always a large party on St. Sylvester's Eve, and then he likes to prepare for each of his guests some pleasant surprise; but he manages everything so awkwardly, that all the pleasure which he has contrived with so much trouble, is turned into comic misery.

As I entered the ante-room the Justizrath came hurriedly towards me from the tea-roon,. barring my entrance into that sanctuary, and smothering the delicious aroma of the tea. His countenance wore a smiling but sly expression, as he whispered, mysteriously

"My dear friend, something delightful awaits you in that room a rare surprise for St. Sylvester's Eve; but don't be frightened." At these words, gloomy forebodings passed through my mind, and I became anxious and oppressed with painful misgivings. The folding-doors opened, and I hurriedly advanced into the room, from whose centre her face beamed upon me. It was she-she herself, she whom I had not gazed on for years; the most blessed moments of life darted in one mighty kindling ray through my heart.-I had found her cnce more, and the thought of separation was annihilated.

By what wonderful accident she had come, what strange circumstances had brought her to the Justizrath's, with whom I did not know that she was even acquainted,- of all this I never thought. Enough for me that I had her once more. Thunderstruck, I stood rooted to the spot, when the Justizrath tapped me lightly on the shoulder and exclaimed

"Well, my dear friend?"

I followed him mechanically, although I saw no one but her, and from my pent-up breast with difficulty escaped the words"Good heaven! Julia here?"

I approached the tea-table, and Julia then first noticed my pre-
She rose and said, in almost a strange tone-

sence.

"I am very glad to see you here; you look very well."

Then she reseated herself, and inquired of the lady sitting next to her if they were going to play anything good at the theatre next week.

You approach a lovely flower, which greets you with its perfume; but as you bend to observe its beauty more closely, a shining, cold-looking basilisk comes forth from its glittering leaves, and would kill you with its deadly looks. This was my fate on

the present occasion. I bowed awkwardly towards the ladies, and stepping hastily backwards, knocked the streaming cup of tea out of the Justizrath's hand into his neatly-plaited shirt-frill. Every one laughed at the Justizrath's misfortune, but much more at my clumsiness. Thus, all things seemed prepared to drive me to distraction; but I recovered myself with the courage of despair. Julia did not laugh. My wandering looks met her gaze, and it seemed as if a ray from the glorious past full of love and poetry passed between us.

Somebody now began playing in the next room, which set all the company in motion. It was whispered that the player was a great foreign virtuoso, named Berger, who played divinely, and must be listened to with the greatest attention.

"Don't make such a horrible clatter with the tea-things. Minna," cried the Justizrath, and motioning towards the door, invited the ladies with a gentle "Eh bien ?" to come nearer to the player. Julia also stood up and walked slowly towards the next room. I remarked that her whole form was quite changed; she looked taller than of old, and her figure seemed developed in almost voluptuous beauty. The peculiar shape of her white dress, which half covered her breast, shoulders and neck, with wide-puffed sleeves reaching to the elbows; her hair parted in front on the forehead, and curiously plaited in thick folds behind,-gave her the appearance of the female figures in the paintings of Mieris; and yet I fancied that I had somewhere seen the being whom Julia now resembled. She had drawn down her long gloves, which, hanging round the wrists, completed the resemblance.

Julia turned round towards me before I had entered the adjoin. ing room, and I fancied that her angelic youthful face was distorted by a mocking smile. A terrible sensation thrilled through me like a cramp, pervading all my nerves.

"He plays divinely," lisped a young lady, inspired by sweet tea, and I know not how it happened that I found her arm within my own, and that I was leading her, or rather she was leading me. into the next room. Berger had just let loose a terrible hurricane of sound; the mighty accords rose and fell like the thundering waves of the ocean, which made me feel better for it harmonised with my feelings.

Julia stood next me, and said in a voice more melodious than ever, "I wish you were at the harpsichord, and sang of byegone pleasure and hope."

The enemy had departed, and in the one word, "Julia!" I would have expressed all that burnt within me; but other persons coming between us had separated her from me. It was evident that she avoided me; but at last we were once more side by side, and