THE MAGAZINES.

'Ins magazines seem to multiply as each month begins, and their quality does not improve or keep pace with their quantity. Ever since the National Review invented that unfortunate word "padding," magazine articles have been fast becoming what they were prematurely called by the cynic. Almost every novelist has her or his magazine, and of course the editor's novel is always the feature. In Mr. Trollope's Saint Pants the general harmony of the face is not sacrificed to a pair of brilliant eyes or a set of pearly teeth, if we may use such a metaphor to describe the imagazines which subsist on Mrs. Riddell, Mrs. Henry Wood, and Miss Braddon. And even there occasional articles of merit stand out from the mass of satellite mediocrity. The St. James's Magazine does not depend alone on Mrs. Riddell's striking but painful novel of "A Life's Assize." For the last three months it has contained chapters of a revived story by Mr. James Hannay, which was began nearly thirteen years ago in an abortive sixpenny magazine called the _Idler. " Bisset's Youth" is the present name of the story ; it was formerly " Bagot's." We, who have pleasant, if somewhat melancholy, recollec- tions of its ancient look, are glad to find it improved and strengthened. The Argosy, too, has a remarkable contri- butor writing under the name of "Johnny Ludlow," though his sketch in this month's number scarcely keeps up the reputation his earlier ones have gained him. While we are dealing with these smaller magazines, we may as well mention the few others which do not attain the first rank and are beneath the dignity of quotation. The Broadway has just entered on a new series with stories by Mr. Henry Kingsley and Miss Annie Thomas, a series of studies .on Thackeray by Mr. James Hannay, and of impressions of America by Mr. Newman Hall. The Gentlenzatt's Magazine has also taken another new 'start in life, which, at the age it has reached, may seem wanton, if not dangerous. In the present number there is an article by Mr. Tom Taylor en the Fairford windows, and a good sketch of the British Association at Norwich. We looked in the Victoria 211agazine for something similar, but only found a report of Miss Becker's paper, together with extracts from the daily journals about the Manchester revision. There are some clever sketches, both with pencil and pen, in Once a Week, notably Mr. F. Eltze's " Cab Strike" and "Coast Scenery."

We have now finished our minor magazines, and may turn

from the dry work of summarizing and cataloguing to a more cheerful ramble among the first-class periodicals. By these we do not mean the half-crown magazines, for this month both Blackwood and Fraser are dull and unprofitable. There is promise of some genuine interest in the Blackwood story "Madame Aurelia," but all the other articles are heavy. The only merit of the Blackwood papers on Mr. Disraeli is that they have provoked a clever and telling rejoinder in Saint Pants. Mr. Story has versified afresh that view of the character of Judas which Whately startled Oxford by enunciating in the pulpit, and which Goethe intended to convey in a poem on the Wandering Jew. But "A Roman Lawyer in Jerusalem—First Century," as Mr. Story calls his poem, reminds us still more of Mr. Browning's " Karshish " than of either Whately or Goethe. In Fraser there are two noticeable articles, one on "Church Policy "a propos of the Broad-Church volume of Essays; the other, on "Trades' Unions," as contrasting with the

general practice of society and the learned professions. It would be idle to discuss the conclusions of either of these two articles in the space now at our disposal. It would convey no information to the writer of the second to be told that each of his paragraphs

contains a paradox. Of this the editor of Fraser must be fully aware, for he offers in a note to open his pages to any competent person who desires to answer the essay. Such an offer could not

be safely made as to another paper in the present part, which might tempt too much discussion, Shirley's criticism of George Eliot's poem. " Bolsover Forest" is a readable story of school- boy life, devoted to ratcatching, badger-hunting, and other out- of-door amusements, which sometimes lay the foundation of studies in natural history, and sometimes stop short at the terrible word "study." But the author of "The Autobiography of Sahno Salar " has evidently taken high honours in that modern branch of learning.

St. Pauls has been twice alluded to, but must not be dismissed

so shortly. Mr. Trollope's magazine has made great strides since it first began, and is often the best of the monthlies. We think that is its position this month. After all that has been said and

written on Mr. Disraeli, there was room for the telling study of "The Conservative Premier," according to St. Pants "the least conservative member of the House of Commons." Much, not perhaps too much, of the article is taken up with an analysis of Vivian Grey, which is made a sort of table of contents to Mr.

Disraeli's character. But what is most noticeable in the paper is that the writer steers with perfect impartiality between the two views which have hitherto found exponents. Everything said of Mr. Disraeli in Blackwood is in the tone of panegyric. Fraser, on the other hand, never rises above invective against the Caucasian.

We ought to be indebted to that recent party of climbers which, after ascending the Caucasus, claimed it for a European mountain.

Mr. Disraeli ought not always to be stretched upon it with the critic in Fraser like the vulture pecking at his entrails, and Mr. Beresford Hope in the character of Mercury twitting him with the Asian mystery. Other good articles in St. Pants are "French

Players and Playhouses," "Provincial Journalism," and A Boar Hunt in Burgundy." From the last we take an extract :—

" The boar was now close on the piqueur, who stood waiting firm till the last moment. The old man then leaped nimbly aside, and almost touching the boar with the muzzle of his piece, deliberately pulled the trigger. Had the shot been fired, no doubt the boar would have fallen, but, most unhappily, the piece flashed fire, and the next moment I saw the poor old man on the ground, and all rushed forward to assist him. The piqueur was wounded, but rose, nevertheless, and drew his knife for the attack, and at the same moment a greyhound seized the boar by one of its ears. The strife and uproar became now general, for the dogs came up by scores at a time, and the boar was quickly surrounded by tho whole pack. The Count arrived on horseback immediately after, followed by the whole suite, some on foot, some running and leading their horses, others mounted and galloping. Nothing could now exceed the animation of the scene ; the boar was hidden from sight by the dogs, until, suddenly he rose up from the midst of them, like a moun- tain rising from the sea. The dogs, however, soon closed on him again, and again he rose up from amongst them, shaking red foam from his jaws, and dealing wounds on all sides. At length the dogs kept him down, and in his last attempt to rise above them, we could just see his huge form heave to the surface, and then sink down exhausted. Gradually his breathing became oppressed and thick, and from the short, quick bark which it resembled before, we heard it approaching, by degrees, to the gasp of suffocation. The Count, knife in hand, stood waiting for the expected signal, and, on judging the symptoms of strangling sufficiently intense, he stepped resolutely forward, made his way through the dogs, and, placing the point of the blade above the boar's shoulder, threw his weight forward, and buried the long knife to the handle in the creature's body. He then immediately gave orders to call off the dogs. On this, the huntsmen cracked their whips, and dealing furious lashes right and left soon cleared the prostrate carcass. The dogs then formed, on their own actord, a close semicircle round the body at a respectful distance, and though they eyed the dead boar with the most impatient and eager looks, they never once attempted to

break the line ; such is their terror of the whip, and their state of habitual discipline."

The paper on the French stage begins admirably, but falls off a little when it comes to personal description of particular plays, players, and playhouses. In the sketch of the general contrast be- tween English and French theatres, English and French actors, English and French plays—or rather between French plays and the English versions of them—we find many interesting details and some searching criticism. Here is one of the numerous explana- tions of French superiority

"Again, too, it must be said that the French artists arc a superior -class to the English players : superior in tastes and accomplishments. Their tastes, habits, mode of life, everything, are superior. Their pastimes and accomplishments would amaze our English players, and perhaps excite their contempt. They are nearly all collectors, and what are called in France 'amateurs.' Thus 31. Grivot, of the Vaude- ville, is fond of etching, and is curious in bronzes. St. Germain collects rare books. Dosrieux delights in pottery, and people go to see his specimens of old faience ware. The more famous Doche has an exqui- site little museum of rare Dresden and dainty curiosities. Kopp, one -of the droll coterie in the Grande Duchesse, has a collection of pictures worth 80,000 francs. Lassouche, of the Palais Royal, collects china. One actor has a collection of clocks of Louis XIV. ; another, a choice little cabinet by Meissonior ; a third is a good sculptor ; a dozen paint landscapes, nearly all are musicians, and most play on the violin. As for the actresses, it is not too much to say that every second one sings skilfully, and plays the pianoforte as a matter of course. Many French actors write elegant and lively verses,—'provorbes ' sometimes,— which they act for their own amusement. All this betokens a refined tone of thought. The directors of the theatres are very often skilled and successful dramatists, and more often still trained and refined critics, who have served an apprenticeship on influential papers. The green rooms are not like ours, bare, unfurnished apartments, but noble salons, full of busts of great players and dramatic authors, covered with pictures of scenes from great plays by great artists, furnished with presents from the Kings of France. As we look up from the streets between the acts, we see these attractive salons, and know that the artists who are entertained therein cannot but respect themselves and hold their profession respected."

The Cornhill is also good this month, though in the article from which we have a right to expect most we are disappointed. The sketch of "Jacob Omnium " is kindly and sympathetic, but its details are meagre. Almost any one might have given the list of Mr. Higgins' signatures with which the Corn/Lilt is contented, and might have added vaguely that each recalls some victory over folly, cruelty, disorder, jobbery, maladministration, or abuse. The account of "Jacob Omnium's" quarrel with the Times is hardly more full than the paragraph in which the Times announced his +leath. Few perhaps who observed the sadden disappearance from the Times of all those well known signatures following just after its virulent attack on one of its oldest and most steady correspon- dents were surprised at that paragraph. But we might have -expected a fuller and more intimate sketch of "Jacob Omnium " from the Cornhill. The tale which begins in this number under the name of "Lattice Lisle" is perhaps to be attributed to the author of Stone Edge, but we are rather concerned to call atten- tion to its beauties than to discuss its parentage. As the autumn months are devoted to travel, the Cornhill has done well to include three papers on foreign parts, and to describe scenes in Mauritius, Corsica, and Norway. The glimpse we have of the market-place at Port Louis is especially vivid :- "Mon gathered from every quarter of tho globe hero mingle. Mauritius is such a calling-place for the world's shipping as you find nowhere else, and all nations and tongues are represented in its streets —Nubians, black-skinned, and bare-legged, like their Mozambique brethren, whose vaster mouths are grinning everywhere ; Hindoos of all astes, and colours, and races ; Parsees, with long robe-like paletots, and -oddly-shaped hats, draped round with puggeries, cunningly interwoven with gold wire ; long-haired, skull-capped Malabars ; sharp-visaged, gaily-clad Madrassees ; Greek-featured Cingaleso ; Arabs, solemnly bearded and turbaned, moving with ostrich-like stateliness, as though they, the faithful, were lords of au. And there is John Chinaman, with his unfailing ribbonless straw hat, and his blue calico trousers and jacket, his pigtail discreetly stowed away, coronet-wise, and his crooked eyes gleaming acquisitively as he drives a hard bargain, literally farthing by farthing. Here, too, the creole islanders, black-hatted and coated as 'usual, early as is the day, lounge lazily, with a few blue-habited planters from the country, and here and there a female figure The market itself consists of a series of light elegant sheds, paved with stone or marble, and duly divided into compartments. It is about 300 feat long and 250 feet wide. Neither counters nor tables are pro- vided for the goods offered, but simply the bare floor. Each stallholdor takes his stand, or rather his seat, upon the stones, where he squats calmly in the midst of his little piles of cabbages, fruit, pstatoes, beans, pepper, ginger, tomatoes, and so forth. In the intervals of custom the vendor employs himself with shelling beans or picking roots. He, or she—for the fair sex are much given to the art of selling—do not over- power passers-by with demands for patronage. If you pause nigh, he looks up with dignity, and awaits your pleasure, or possibly he may hazard a remark laudatory of his wares. If you wish to buy, about one- third of what is asked will be a fair approximation to the real price. First prices are only nominal. Fine potatoes are to be had at twopence- halfpenny a pound ; eggs, three-halfpence each ; celery, fourpence a bunch ; broccoli, firepenco each ; green mangoes, a penny each ; pumpkins, sixpence each, or a halfpenny a slice. Here are balls of tamarinds, most dainty material for a chutney, at a penny a pound ; tiny onions can be had at three-halfpence a pound. Tolerably large egg plants, the insides of which are staffed with herbs and chopped meat, are the same price. Nino insipid tomatoes can be had for a half- penny. Haricot beans, of all colours and sizes, aro present everywhere. Of fruits there is a poor show, the only noticeable one being the delicious litchie—a little-known but most delicious fruit, growing in a large shrublike tree, having a hard sheath, which comes off readily, showing something like a strawberry. In taste it resembles a muscadel grape, but there is a large stone in the centre. They are sold at about two for a penny. In the meat market there is more variety and a better quality of produce. Especially is this the case in the fish section. There is a plentiful supply of fresh turtle at a shilling per pound. There are turtle eggs, too, the best being thoao that are found after dissection. Noble crayfish, two feet long at least, are only one shilling and sixpence each. Tho Crabs are small and untempting. Mangalls, a sort of cat- fish, are offered for one shilling and aixpence. Long-nosed guard-fish can be bought for two shillings each. But these pretty, sky-blue speckled fellows, yclept ' skipjacks,' are more to one's taste. One instinctively shudders before the young sharks, which look harmless and flabby enough now, but whose budding teeth are really too signifi- cant. They are good eating, nevertheless, weigh five pounds, and cost one shilling and sixpence. Other fish are hero in abundance, and in strange variety of form and colour : scarlet, orange, green, and blue— flashing an hour or two ago, motoor-like, through the limpid waters of the Indian Sea."

The writer who takes us to the Hardanger Province in Norway consoles us for not having turned aside to see a waterfall which we felt at the time ought to be visited, and which we were afraid Murray would never forgive us for passing over. We are now told that instead of being 700 feet high this fall is only 70, although the guide-books and all the authors who have written on the Hardanger Fjord retain the second cipher. The Voring-Foss is not described well, or treated with due respect. But the details of village life on the Hardanger are pleasant, and the general scenery of the fjord, which the writer has not shrunk front sketch- ing, is sketched faithfully. From au article on "Colonial Parlia- ments" we take an instance of legislation under difficulties :— "Sometimes difficulties occur for which the records of the home Parliament supply no remedy. Such an one arose last year. The Speaker had gone on an expedition into the far interior : his travels took him further than he had contemplated, and brought him to a dis- trict where, when the winter came, his cattle were left without grass, and it was impossible for them to return. He had no horses within reach ; his sole dependence for moans of conveyance was upon ex-wag- gons, and they could not bo moved. Thus came it to pass that when the session arrived there was no Speaker, and a deputy had to be appointed. The matter was not much considered, as the absence of the Speaker was expected to be but brief. Weeks passed on, however, and the missing man came not, nor was any tidings of him received. At last, a fortnight before the session closed, he suddenly arrived, having made all speed from the far frontier where horses became obtainable. He resumed his seat and made his explanation. One or two members, however, seemed to think that the Speaker should have taken more pains to inform the Council of his movements, and raised a question as to the legality of their late proceedings. Precedents were sought for ; May was overhauled ; Hansard was exhausted; but the long record of the English Parliament failed to supply an analogous case, or to lay down any rule of action for such an emergency. The possibility of such an occurrence as a Speaker being left out of the reach of posts in the wilderness had never presented itself to the mind, or happened within the experience, of English Parliament writers. Only one course remained. An Act bad to be passed legalizing the pro- ceedings of the Council during the Speaker's absence."

"Some Notes on Othello" and "A Dialogue on Finality" add to the value if not to the lighter attractions of the number.

In Macmillan " Realmali" is almost at an end, which may be good news to some and a matter of indifference to others. We may specially commend Mr. Edwin Hatch's article on the " English Church in Canada," Mr. Chester's "Food of the People," and Mr. Fawcett's " What can be done for the Agricul- tural Labourers?" as discussing questions of present interest and importance. We may further add that the tone of the two first papers is worthy of their subjects, and that the information they give us is useful in many respects. It would be impertinent to say this of Mr. Fawcett's admirable and exhaustive essay. But in saying no more than this we are not doing justice to Macmillan; and, moreover, we have not mentioned Archbishop Trench's fine sonnet on the brother and sister killed at Abergele.