MEMS OF THE MONTH. 66 Most undoubtedly the sight of the past month | has been the Volunteer Camp at Wimbledou. We believe it has been more successful than any of the past years, and that there has been a larger attendance both of volunteers and visitors. The shooting has been something magnificent; our Scotch brethren succeeding in carrying off the Elcho shield, amongst many other prizes, and young Mr. Cameron, who took the Queen's prize, making one of the finest scores on record. To ordinary observers, however, the mere shooting is not very entertaining, for, unless they are perfectly au courant with the system of signalling, and their ears accustomed to the ring of the target, they get so hopelessly confused amidst 66 66 centres," outers," "bull'seyes,"" ricochets," that they are just likely to take one for the other, and applaud a ricochet," or "smile derisive" at a "bull's-eye." On the occasion of our visit we noticed a group of young ladies at the firing point, opposite the pool target, who appeared to be wonderfully interested in the matter, and the way in which they rattled off the various technicalities was wonderful to hear; but then they had a brother or a cousin, who was shooting; so that made all the difference: however, as it is impossible for everyone to have a brother or a cousin in order to give that charm and interest to the shooting which it appeared to give these fair girls, doubtless it will be asked what other objects of interest there are to be seen in the volunteer camp. Well, then, those who would gratify their tastes in the matters of jewellery and plate should visit the Exhibition Tent to find marvels in the way of épergnes, vases, tankards, watches, clocks, and rings. Do they wish to purchase easy-chairs, hammocks, or pannikins; or, are they desirous to acquire a "puggery" to entwine round the hat to keep off the blazing sun, they go to the street which is called Windmill, and there are able to purchase everything they may require during the time of their sojourn in the camp. The most attractive sight of all, however, is to be found in the various tents. It is amusing to see the manifold decorations and inner luxuries which are introduced by the volunteers, showing that, whilst fully alive to the importance of the utile, they are not unmindful of the pleasant influence of the dulce. Then we see some of the tents carefully planted around with red geraniums, calceolarias, and other gay-coloured plants quite foreign to Wimbledon's sturdy heath, and which are being tended by a brawny volunteer, who is down on his knees and watering his garden in the most laborious manner by means of a. bucket of water and a regimental pannikin Further on we notice the tents fancifully bedecked with ferns and heather; we observe birdcages hanging on the exterior of tents, also the coloured lampions for the evening's illumination. Nor should we omit to mention the appearance of the third number of the Earwig, for which the small charge of sixpence is made for the first time. But Your Bohemian has something more serious to relate than the amenities of camp life. The Reform Meeting attempted to be holden in the Park, on Monday evening the 23rd, was undoubtedly a serious business. Setting aside the question of Reform altogether, it was an unwise thing for Mr. Walpole and Sir Richard Mayne to have closed the park gates. If the meeting had taken place and the whole affair been treated with silent contempt the matter would have passed quietly over; but by opposing it Mr. Beale and his followers have been exalted into martyrs with a grievance. Mr. John Bright's letter is indeed worthy of him: writing from the country, at a safe distance, he urges the Reform League to hold their meeting as proposed; but at the same time, despite the matter being a serious question," with caution he says: "I cannot leave home for some days to come, and therefore cannot be in London on the 23rd instant." One would have thought if the question had been of such vital importance the hon. member might have strained a point to have been at his post. We love not such Brummagem patriotism. 66 The telegrams from the Great Eastern,” with reference to the Atlantic Cable, are naturally received with much interest, and we are glad to record satisfactory progress up to the present time. We have not yet been down to Brighton outside the coach which is now running, as we fully intended doing before this, since, on inquiry, we find it would be necessary to book our place for it at least a week beforehand, which, considering this changeable climate of ours, we hesitated to do; however, we will risk it shortly, and endeavour first to make private arrangements with the "clerk of the weather." As it is, there has chanced to be little or no rain for weeks. The Dramatic College folks were particularly fortunate, and the fete passed off with less to condemn than usual, if we except the jockeyring and music-hall notabilities: the former being deservedly unremunerative, and the latter an inconsistent feature. We regret to record the death of Mr. Jerwood, who was one of the warmest supporters of the College, and his loss will be greatly felt. Mr. Jerwood's death occurred a few days before the fète. Miss Braddon's first novel, "The Trail of the Serpent," has made its appearance, thoroughly revised and in parts re-written, "The History of Sign Boards" (Hotten) is an interesting work, to which we would invite the attention of our readers. The "Autographic Mirror," has been purchased by Cassell, but it was unwise to discontinue the publication before the half-yearly volume was finished: we are yet in hopes that a part containing six numbers will appear, which will make the fourth volume complete; when, if it is not found to be a remunerative speculation, it may be as well to give it up. Of course the sale of such a work must be limited, and we are sorry it has not been sufficient to encourage its originator, who deserves great credit for having carried it on for two years. Another literary venture has lately sprung up, called "The Stranger in London"-a newspaper in three languages, and for which there appears to have been a great demand, since on inquiring at the office after the second number was published, we were informed that the first was already out of print. We have been favoured with a glimpse of the proof sheets of Mr. Wm. Sawyer's new volume of poems, entitled "Ten Miles from Town." The following lines, entitled "Found Drowned," are so elegant in diction, so musical in rhythm, and, above all, so fraught with tender and earnest feeling, that we cannot refrain from quoting them: "At the ebbing tide they found Sand in her bosom that was round and white. "Perfume still in the hair, The nails trimmed round with care; The damask bloom had died; Death the consoler she had dared to seek. "Still in her shell-pink cars There glitter'd diamond spheres, "Rough men, of honest lives, Proud of their wedded wives, And curs'd the unknown slayer. That curse that swells in outraged Virtue's name ?" The volume will be published on the 1st of August, and, from the above specimen, lovers of genuine poetry-poetry as opposed to the pretentious drivel so called-may promise themselves a rich intellectual treat. Mr. Edmund Yates, in Temple Bar," has called Mr. G. H. Lewes to account for an attack on a recent novel written by Mr. Yates himself, who wishes ti to be thought that he does not care a rush for Mr. Lewes's criticism; though the article, which is meant to be smart, and is written in questionable taste, leads us to believe otherwise; or why should Mr. Yates retaliate in kind? This savours somewhat of the old adage of the pot and kettle. As the Flaneur, Mr. Yates should overlook personality in others, even though there should happen to be some "violation of the sanctity of private life," which is, oddly enough, deprecated by the Flaneur. Mr. Carpenter, keeper of prints and drawings in the British Museum, is lately dead. We understand Artemus Ward will shortly come before the British public as an "entertainer." If he is as popular in that capacity as be is as an author, we may predict for him a thorough success. We may mention at the same time, with regret, that we are about to lose, for a time, one of the most gifted and versatile of our entertainers, namely, Mr. Arthur Sketchley. This gentleman proposes shortly to go to America, to introduce our old friend and everybody's old friend," Mrs. Brown" to Brother Jonathan. If she is as warmly received in New York as she has been in London the good old lady will doubtless be gratified; but we shall miss her from her accustomed post in the great metropolis, where her name has long become a "household word." Mr. Burnand, the well-known burlesquewriter and contributor to Punch, appeared the other evening, at the New Royalty, as Ulysses, in his own production of "Patient Penelope," and we believe, for we were not there to see, that his performance was thoroughly successful. Taking advantage of the New Royalty being let for amateur performances, Mr. D. D. Home has appeared on its boards as Henri de Neuville, in "Plot and Passion," rather than risk the more ambitious venture of Mr. Oakley, in the "Jealous Wife," at the St. James's, for which character he was announced to appear some time since. More than a medium muster of Mr. Home's friends were in the stalls, there being no pit to speak of (one row), where we were ensconced, obtaining a well-scented programme and listening to an amateur band, and several other amateurs "thrown in." Mr. Home's first act was not destitute of merit, but his second convinced us that he had done wel. in not risking a more public performance. The third act we did not stay to see, as, though fashionables and friends persevered, Your Bohemian was athirst and weary. Mrs. B. R. Williams, Mr. Garston, and Mr. Paul Graves were highly satisfactory representatives of Madame de Fontanges, Fouché, and Desmarets, but an amateur performance, par excellence, was that at the Polygraphic Hall a few evenings ago, for the benefit of the Sailors' Homes, when "Still Waters Run Deep" and "The Blighted Being" were gone through in a practised manner, rare amongst amateurs, and which we are glad to say resulted in a very considerable addition to the funds of the charity. We are glad to perceive that Mr. Hermann, Vezin is engaged at Drury Lane. That actor's recent performance | has taken the place of "Paris" at the Strand. of Dr. Davey-a one-act and admirably-con- The Haymarket closes on the 1st, with Buckdensed version of "David Garrick"-has raised stone's benefit, which is always a bumper; and him immensely in his profession. It was of the Mellon's Concerts commence immediately. highest order. "Kenilworth" (a new edition) YOUR BOHEMIAN. VILLAGE WEDDING IN SWEDEN. It shall be summer time, that there may be | flowers; and in a southern province, that the bride may be fair. The early song of the lark and of chanticleer are mingling in the clear morning air, and the sun, the heavenly bridegroom with yellow hair, arises in the south. In the yard there is a sound of voices and trampling of hoofs, and horses are led forth and saddled. The steed that is to bear the bridegroom has a bunch of flowers on his forehead and a garland of corn-flowers about his neck. Friends from the neighbouring farms come riding in, their blue cloaks streaming in the wind; and finally the happy bridegroom, with a whip in his hand, and a monstrous nosegay in the breast of his blue jacket, comes from his chamber; and then to horse, and away towards the village, where the bride already sits and waits. Foremost rides the spokesman, followed by some half-dozen village musicians. Next comes the bridegroom between his two groomsmen, and then forty or fifty friends and wedding guests, half of them, perhaps, with pistols and guns in their hands. A kind of baggage-waggon brings up the rear, laden with food and drink for these merry pilgrims. At the entrance of every village stands a triumphal arch, laden with flowers, and ribbons, and evergreens, and as they pass beneath it, the wedding-guests fire a salute, and the whole procession stops, and straight from every pocket flies a black jack filled with punch or brandy. It is passed from hand to hand among the crowd; provisions are brought from the waggon, and, after eating and drinking and hurrahing, the procession moves forward again, and at length draws near the house of the bride. Four heralds ride forward to announce that a knight and his attendants are in the neighbouring forest, and ask for hospitality. "How many are you?" asks the bride's father. "At least three hundred," is the answer; and to this the last replies, "Yes, were you seven times as many, you should all be welcome, and in token thereof receive this cup." Whereupon each herald receives a can of ale; and soon after the whole jovial company comes streaming into the farmer's yard, and riding round the May-pole which stands in the centre, alight amid a grand salute and flourish of music. In the hall stands the bride with a crown upon her head and a tear in her eye, like the Virgin Mary in old church paintings. She is dressed in a red boddice and kirtle, with loose linen sleeves. There is a girded belt around her waist, and around her neck strings of golden beads. On the crown rests a wreath of wild roses, and below it another of cypress. Loose over her shoulders falls her flaxen hair, and her blue innocent eyes are fixed upon the ground. "Oh, thou good soul! thou hast hard hands but a soft heart! thou art poor-the very orna ments thou wearest are not thine-the blessings of Heaven upon thee!" So thinks the parish priest, as he joins together the hands of the bride and the bridegroom, saying, in a deep and solemn voice: "I give thee in marriage this damsel, to be thy wedded wife in all honour, to share the half of thy bed, thy lock and key, and every third penny which thou two may possess, or may inherit, all the rights which Uhland's laws provide and the holy king gives." And the dinner is now served, and the bride sits between the bridegroom and the priest. The spokesman delivers an oration, after the ancient custom of the fathers. He interlards it well with quotations from the Bible, and invites the Saviour to be present, as at the marriage-feast of Cana of Galilee. The table is not sparingly set forth. Each makes a long arm, and the feast goes cheerily on. Punch and brandy pass around between the courses, and here and there a pipe is smoked while waiting for the next dish. They sit long at table; but as all things must have an end, so must a Swedish dinner. Then the dance begins. It is led off by the bride and priest, who perform a solemn minuet together. Not until midnight comes the last dance. The girls form a circle round the bride to keep her from the hands of the married women, who endeavour to break through the magic circle and seize their new sister. After a long struggle they succeed; and the crown is taken from her head, the jewels from her neck, her boddice is unlaced, and kirtle taken off; and like a vestal virgin, clad all in white, she goes to her bridal chamber; and the wedding guests follow her with lighted candles in their hands. And this is a village bridal. LEAVES FOR THE LITTLE ONES. CONVERSATIONS WITH PAPA. BY M. C. EMMA. I don't see, Papa, that hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs look a bit like churchmen, soldiers, citizens, and workpeople. most came to blows, and the consequences would probably have been very serious, had not John O'Groat interposed, and requested them to return to their respective homes, and leave the matter in his hands, promising so to settle it as to prevent further disputes. To this they agreed. John built a room of an octagon shape, that had eight doors and windows in it; and in the middle was placed a table of the same shape; after which there was no more cause for quar PAPA. You must remember that cards are not an English invention, so we have to translate French words for the meanings I have given you, which will make it more easily un-rels, as each might take his own door. derstood, if you listen attentively: Gens de chœur is the name for choirmen, ecclesiastics, or churchmen; and cœur is the French wordEMMA. For heart, Papa. But spades? PAPA. They are intended to show the military, or what you call soldiers, and are represented by the heads of their lances or pikes; on the cards the diamonds point to the order of citizens, or tradesmen; the French word for diamonds being carreaux, square stones or tiles. Clubs, for which the French word is trèfle, represents the peasants, or husbandmen, who cultivate the clover-grass or trefoil leaf. TOм. That was a good thing to think of, wasn't it, Papa? Now, Tiny, do let us have the story you've made such a secret about, that Mamma sent you. TOM. I'm sure that's plain enough, Em. Now, Papa, please tell me why those two fellows in the window at church yesterday were riding one horse, for I could not help thinking it looked very queer in such a place. PAPA. When the Knights Templars (or, as they were called in London, "The Military Order of the Temple") first came to England they were very poor, and this is intended as a symbol of their poverty, viz., that they could only afford one horse between them, which device is generally represented on their seal. TOм. But how came they to be in England at all? Tiny read as follows:-" Many years a¿ Canada goose formed an extraordinary attachment to a house-dog, and would never quit the kennel except for the purpose of feeding, after which it would return to its house immediately. Although it always sat by the dog, it never presumed to enter the kennel, except in rainy weather. Whenever the dog barked at anyone the goose would run at the person, and cackle and try to bite his heels. Sometimes she would attempt to feed with the dog, but this the latter (who treated his faithful companion with supreme indifference) would not suffer. Unless driven by main force, this bird would not go to roost with the others at night, and when turned into the field in the morning she would never stir from the gate, but sit there all day in sight of the dog. At last orders were given that she should be no longer molested, but suffered to accompany the dog wherever she liked. When left to herself she ran about the yard with him all night; and what is stranger still, if the dog went out into the village, the goose accompanied him, always contriving, with the assistance of her wings, to keep pace with her friend, to the great amusement of the villagers, who more than once saw the performance. This extraordinary affection of the goose, which lasted for two years after it had been first observed, was continued until the death of the dog. It was supposed to have originated from his having accidentally saved her from a fox, in the very PAPA. Just as real, my dear, and not so moment of distress. When the dog was ill the wicked; neither did he live so long ago. John goose never left him day or night, not even to O'Groat came from Holland, with his three feed; and fearing that she would be starved to brothers, in the reign of James IV. of Scotland. death, orders were given for a pan of corn to be The King gave them letters to his subjects in set every day close to the kennel. At this time Caithness, where the brothers had an equal the goose generally sat in the kennel, and would share of property. They lived there a long not allow anyone to approach it but the person time until their number was increased to eight, who brought the dog's, or her own food. The and very happy they were for many years, until end of this faithful bird was melancholy; for about the time they were expecting some rela- when the dog died, she would not leave the tions to visit them, and then they began to quar- kennel; and a new house-dog being brought rel which should be the greatest amongst them, thither, which in size and colour resembled the and who had the right to sit at the head of the lost one, the poor goose was unhappily detable or take the door. From words they al-ceived, and was seized by the throat and killed," PAPA. The Grand Master of the Templars came over to try to persuade Henry II. to join the Crusaders. His name was Heraclius: he was Bishop of Jerusalem, and founded the Temple Church. EMMA. Mamma said in her letter the other day that she had been to see John O'Groat's house. Was he a real man, like Blue-Beard, Papa? EMMA. It's true, Papa; and Mamma says in Tom's letter, that the gentleman to whom the goose belonged lived at East Barnet, where Aunt Ida often visits. PAPA. It's a very amusing story, Tiny; but it's your bed time, so we must say good-night. TOM. Now, Em, be off like a shot. It's no end of fun to think we shall have mamma and the girls next week. LITTLE THINGS. BY MISS S. H. BAKER. Who wants to hear a story? But firstly let me tell you it has a moral; to which if you object, you must stop right here, for the moral will await you at the end. Lizzie and Agnes Paton, with their little brother Ned, were spending the summer in the country with their parents, and being at a farmhouse, they had a fine range, not only over the lawn and premises near the house, but away off in the beautiful fields, in the "grand old woods," and wherever their young feet were strong and lively enough to carry them. Each day brought some new pleasure to them, for it was new, although they had done the same thing many times before. One thing among the many which they delighted in was going to the woods, where they invented a great variety of "plays"-sometimes "laying out farms," sometimes a city, and sometimes a village. One day they were very busy planning their village, having a place marked for the church, the blacksmith's shop, the tavern, and the schoolhouse. Each one was full of thought to invent building material out of sticks, leaves, and chips, and Ned felt particularly busy and responsible, for he had charge of arranging the blacksmith shop, which was much more important in his view than church or school-house, and his happiest anticipations was to get ready an anvil, upon which he could strike as hard as he chose. They were at work close by a narrow path, which was frequently travelled by persons who wanted to make a short cut from one public road to another, by going through the woods. There attention was drawn from play for a moment by a moving figure which they saw through the trees, and coming towards them. Soon they recognized an old woman who often passed that way, and now she was carrying a basket which seemed heavier than she was able to bear, for she was old and feeble. A cane in one hand helped her a little, and a small boy accompanying her would occasionally take her basket and lug it along a few steps for his grandmother. As he spied the children at their vigorous play, his attention was so fastened upon them that he tripped over the stump of a tree, and away went boy and basket on the ground. The cover fell off the basket, and apples ran out as if they were glad to get on the earth again-some rice broke through its paper | wrapping, and spread its grains upon the grass -a loaf of bread came rolling and frolicking out of confinement, and a little tin can dashed its quart of nice buttermilk over the pretty flowers of the ground-ivy which were accustomed to drinking the fresh, sweet dews of evening, and no doubt preferred them to this lavish and uncommon treat. "Here was a muss," most truly. Old grandmother cried out in the depths of her trouble"Oh, Tom, you've spiled everything. Get up, you careless fellow, and look at the mischief you've done." Tom cried too, but he cried tears instead of words, and did not dare to speak of his bruised arm while the wreck of the basket was before them. But help and kindness were nearer to him than he knew. Lizzie and Agnes saw him fall, and, forgetting their play at that moment, ran to try what they could do to take away his trouble. The appearance of strangers in the quiet woods momentarily made a pause in Tom's tears and grandma's scolding; but both began again. The poor boy sobbed aloud, rubbing his arm, and trying to brush the dirt away from his clothes; while the old woman said— "Oh, never mind your arm-you'll sooner have the use of that than of the rice and buttermilk. Come along, and pick up what you can of the things, for I can't spend all this time for nothing." Lizzie almost cried with pity, as she looked at Tom; and she and Agnes went quietly to work gathering up the apples and replacing them in the basket. The loaf of bread was not spoiled by "running out," and even the rice, happening to fall where the ground was dry and somewhat grassy, was not all lost, for Tom scratched away so faithfully (heing comforted and encouraged by the kindness of Lizzie and Agnes), that but few grains were left in the woods. As the things were put back in the basket, grandma gave them a look of great satisfaction, and when Agnes picked up her cane and put it in her hand, the old lady's good-nature came back, as well as her kindly feeling for Tom. She looked at his arm, and really then felt more sorry for him than for the loss of the buttermilk which the earth drank up as soon as it wen from the can. Tom wiped his eyes with his coat-sleeve, settled his cap firmly on his head with both hands, and looked at the girls with a mixture of shame over his mishap, and of wonder that they should have thought of helping him. Old grandmother thanked them as they started off, and reached their playground some time before she could get there, with her old age and heavy basket. As she came up she saw Ned in the middle of the play village; but instead of going on happily with his blacksmith shop, he was sitting on the ground, with his arms folded and a frown upon his face, and she heard him say to his sisters in a very cross voice, "Why couldn't you let them help themselves, and not stop our nice play?" The poor old woman knew in a moment that |