in the metropolis.  For instance, at the entrance of each lodging, and of almost every private house, there sits a being termed a concierge, who knows the hour at which each inmate enters and goes out; who calls on him; how many letters he receives; by their post-marks, where they come from; what parcels are left for him; what they appear to contain, &c. &c. &c.  Again, at the corner of every principal street, there is located, wearing the badge of the police, a commissionaire, acquainted with all that outwardly goes on within the radius of his Argus-eyed observations.  From these people, from the drivers of fiacres, from the sellers of vegetables, from fruiterers, and lastly, from the masters of wine-shops, who either from people sober, tipsy, or drunk, are in the habit of hearing an infinity of garrulous details, the police are enabled to track the conduct of almost any one, and, if necessary, to follow up their suspicions by their own agents in disguises which, practically speaking, render them invisible.’  Sir Francis mentions that he was considered of sufficient importance to be under surveillance. ’"You are,” said very gravely to me a gentleman in Paris of high station, on whom I had had occasion to call, “a person of some consideration.  Your object here is not understood, and you are therefore under the surveillance of the police.”  I asked him what that meant.  “Wherever you go,” he replied, “you are followed by an agent of police.  When one is tired, he hands you over to another.  Whatever you do, is known to them; and at this moment there is one waiting in the street until you leave me."’

We need say no more.  The people who, under all phases of government—­despotism, constitutional monarchy, and universal-suffrage republic—­coolly tolerate, nay, they admire and vindicate, this atrocious system of personal restraint and espionage, are totally unfit for the enjoyment of civil liberty.  In conclusion, we can hardly recommend the book before us, further than to say, that its gossip, though often prosy to the verge of twaddle, is also sometimes droll and amusing from its graphic minuteness.

* * * * *

[Footnote 2:  A Faggot of French Sticks, 2 vols.  London:  Murray. 1852.]

IVORY AND ITS APPLICATIONS.

The Chinese, from time immemorial, have been celebrated for their excellence in the fabrication of ornamental articles in ivory; and, strange to say, up to our own time, their productions are still unrivalled.  European artists have never succeeded in cutting ivory after the manner of these people, nor, to all appearance, is it likely they ever will.  Nothing can be more exquisitely beautiful than the delicate lacework of a Chinese fan, or the elaborate carving of their miniature junks, chess-pieces, and concentric balls:  their models of temples, pagodas, and other pieces of architecture are likewise skilfully constructed; and yet three thousand years ago such monuments of art were executed with the very same grace and fidelity!