cipal shops are all assembled together, and are comprised under one building, and the stranger finds himself in a town quite by itself. This building is divided into streets, or alleys, and these alleys are covered over, and light is admitted through the roof. The shops have no windows, or, rather, the front is all open. Behind a bench the merchant takes his station, and the purchaser stands in the alley, and bargains. The number of shops thus grouped together is near ten thousand. In these shops, thus open to the rigours of a Russian winter, fires are not permitted, on account of danger, and not even can a candle be lighted. I spent an hour or more going over these shops, and found something to arrest my attention at every step. There is hardly an article in the wide world that cannot be found in these shops, from a jewsharp to a fine pelisse costing five thousand dollars. At the entrance to every shop a boy is stationed, whose only vocation is to solicit the purchaser to walk in. "Shto vam ugodno?" ("What do you wish to have?") is continually ringing in one's ear as he passes along, and the greater volubility of tongue the boy has, the greater wages does he get. Among | the shops we visited was one where furs are sold, and I was shown a sable-skin lining for a cloak, the price of which was four thousand roubles, and for a cloak-collar of the same skin one thousand roubles was demanded. As you may well conceive, they were very beautiful. Near to these shops we visited a Russian tea-house, where the Russian merchants come in the middle of the day to drink tea. At most of the tables I found generally three merchants, with a large dish of soup between them, in which each merchant was continually dipping his spoon, and eating therefrom. The tea was served in tumblers, with a slice of lemon, each person being furnished with a small teapot. Before the Russian uses his tumbler and saucer, he pours some hot tea in the saucer, and then rolls the tumbler in the saucer, to be sure that it is clean enough to drink from. My friend wished me to dine with him to-day at a Russian restaurant, where he was going to give me a real Russian dinner. I accepted, and at two o'clock we sat down to the table, -three of us. First of all, we were served with a Russian liqueur, handed to us in a little silver tumbler, which was emptied and passed round till we had all drank our schnaps. Then a plate of a delicate fish swimming in oil and vinegar, and by its side two plates, one containing caviar, the other, small green onions; besides, some delicious bread and butter, the Moscow bread being superior to any I have found else where. All this was a sort of prelude to the dinner: it is the Russian custom; and you are never invited to a Russian dinner without first being asked to partake of schnaps and some delicacy of the kind just mentioned. Dinner was now brought on the table, our first course being the celebrated Russian soup called ouká. It is made of the head of the sterlet, a fish considered a great treat in the Russian cuisine. This fish is caught in the Volga, and is brought, hundreds of miles, alive to Moscow. It is, as you may suppose, an expensive dish, and it is one of the richest soups I have ever tasted. It is of a yellow colour, and, standing in the soup plate, looks like an ordinary chicken broth, in which olive oil had been poured and was now floating in specks upon the surface. I am very fond of it. After this came a dish, peculiarly, I am glad to say, Russian, and I do not think any nation but the Russian could tolerate it. When my friend asked me what I thought of it, I felt like answering him as the Duke of Wellington did the Emperor Alexander, when the latter thought he was giving the former something particularly récherché, and asked him how he found the Russian soup. The Iron Duke replied, "Votre Majesté, c'est détestable!" And you will be of the same opinion when I tell you the ingredients which compose it. In the first place, it is a cold soup-bah!-and it is a mixture of cucumbers, cold fish, horseradish, and the vile Russian krass, a sort of sour beer. There! what do you think of the national soup of Russia? But my companions ate it with a gusto. As for my plate, I put several table-spoonfuls of grated horseradish into it, and gave it to the bearded mujick who served us to eat. The fellow laughed at my strange want of taste, and took away the plate in high glee. After this came a dish of cold sterlet, which I should have liked better had it been hot; then, a baked pig, and after this, game, this last very nice. With the above we had plenty of Lafitte, Sauterne, and Russian beer, and a bottle of raspberry krass, which was very good. Champagne was now brought on, and with it a composition of fresh fruit served in large tumblers. The fruits thus mélangé were strawberries, cherries, peaches, plums, and pineapples, over which was a rich syrup. And thus ended our Russian dinner. Thursday.-After breakfast I drove to the Kremlin, to visit the famous tower called "Trau Velikii." Its height is about 270 feet, and it is surmounted by a gilt cupola and cross. Its form is octagonal, and becomes smaller at its different stories as you approach the highest story, which is round. In each story there are long, narrow windows, and every story is furnished with a bell or bells, growing smaller in size the higher you ascend, | the forest. While at the Kremlin, I obtained permission There was the peasant-woman in her national costume, the gipsy in hers, and the lady of the nobility in hers-soldiers, labourers, merchants, and princes, made up the heterogeneous mass; and there was music, singing, and dancing, all around. The greater portion of this vast throng, however, were quietly seated on the grass, drinking tea. Groups of ten and twenty were to be seen everywhere, seated à la Turc, around a white table-cloth placed upon the ground, with the boiling samavai steaming up in their midst, drinking this famous beverage of all true Bashkirs. It was an animating scene, and I enjoyed it very much. I have thus far forgotten to note a sight I see every day that I pass the walls of the Kremlin. Just outside the wall, near one of the gates, there is a little building in form of a temple, to which and from which I have observed crowds of devotees going and returning incessantly. I inquired of my valet what saint's image the little temple contained; and he informed me that it was an image which was supposed to possess the power of granting riches; and great were the crowds of supplicants for the favours of the image, which itself (or herself, for it is some virgin) is very rich! The brilliants on her brow, and about her person, are worth millions of roubles! Whenever a parent dies, leaving orphan children, and without means of support, for a handsome sum of money this image is permitted to be taken to the house of the poor children, where it is worshipped in the hope and belief that it will dispense its favours upon the orphans. Of course, if the children afterwards get along well in the world, it is all attributed to the image; and if ill-luck attends them, they dare not murmur. Another sight I had almost forgotten to mention. In the public market-places I noticed several poles stuck in the ground, and resembling in appearance a "barber's pole." I learnt that on market days an image, the protector or protectress of "bargains," was hoisted up to the top of the pole, and the Russians, before they commence the attempt to cheat their customer, cross themselves before the image, and repeat the same mockery after they have concluded a favourable bargain. Under part of the walls of the "China Moscow," a crowd of persons, from the country and city, may at all hours of the day be seen. This motley group is composed principally of women; and the place where they are assembled, is called the "Free Place," or Volnoye Mesto; here, all persons in search of situations as menials, such as cooks, maids, &c., assemble, and those in want of them go there to choose them. Any quantity of wet-nurses are also there, waiting for an engagement; and, I may add, that from all accounts there is always a de mand for them, and the supply is equal to the | demand. I have not the highest opinion of Russian female virtue. I believe Maxwell says, in his book on Russia, that with the peasant woman, marriage is the point where female virtue begins, while with the nobility, it is the point where it ends. To hear all the stories that are told in Russia about this one and that one, you would believe the remark a just one. But there is no denying that Russia surpasses all the countries in Europe for scandalous talking. The character of the purest woman would not escape it. Sunday-To-day I took a stroll through a part of the city, and naturally went to the Kremlin, to view once more the panorama of Moscow, which has a new aspect from every point. As I was standing in the open square, contemplating the scene before me, I had the curiosity to count the different domes and towers of all kinds within the compass of my vision, and made out two hundred and ninetyseven; and this, you will remember, is only the number of those immediately, if I may so speak, Thou, kind, fair earth, hast many a cup of gladness, But the one priceless boon,-for which the spirit IMITATION. BY CHAMPION BISSELL. IMITATION is the most troublesome vice against which young and inexperienced writers are obliged to contend. It is so natural to shape style and manner of thinking after the patterns set us by men of genius, that it is a matter of great difficulty to avoid becoming echoes and copyists. Men of talent are often imitators, for talent is simply power to do; and the power of imitating successfully is an accomplishment which cannot be attained by all. Men of eminent and cultivated talent, drop imitation because it is too low a performance for them. Still, talent is characteristically imitative. Genius alone is original. Genius, however, is rare, even among men of letters. The mass of our literati are merely talented. Many of them have wrought their minds to an exquisite finish, and have executed works which have an air of genius, and have hung up rich and durable offerings in the temple of art; but the results unveil the processes, and the wise are not deceived. This can hardly be called a misfortune; for talent is a much more marketable commodity than genius, and reaches the people in a thousand ways, where the latter finds it hard to obtain a hearing. To imitate well, then, requires a large share of talent. This is as it should be; if it were not so, every tenth man would be wearing the plumes of genius. And those who begin by imitating, and are unsuccessful, either drop writing altogether, or learn to trust more manfully to their own resources. If the portfolios of all those who have made their pens the servants of their thoughts, could be examined, I believe they would be found to contain many laboured copies of the great triumphs of literature-feeble echoes of strong musiccrude eliminations of borrowed conceptionsin fine, just such failures as were necessary to convince the experimenters that their only hope of ever satisfying themselves, lay in independent and self-reliant effort. Masterpieces baffle by simplicity. If complexity were beauty, if to be intricate were to be profound, and if to range widely were to grasp closely, it would be a comparatively easy task to win the bays of genius by dint of mere seen a few such. Yet the influence of Addison labour. Upon such labour, how chillingly and Macaulay on the style of English writers frown the admired and pure creations of the should not be lightly estimated. Attentive Greeks; the massive and simple works of our study is not necessarily imitation, and its regreat English writers. The veriest word-sults are as satisfactory as those of the latter monger, who, in translating Sophocles, loads are humiliating. "the clear text with unseemly redundancies, wonders at the difference between the Greek idea and his own expression; and wondering, blindly endeavours to attain the antique strength, by adding and adding, until the original is lost in the clouds of explication that hang around it. The ambitious, but inexpe rienced writer, who longs to tread reverently in the path of Shakespeare or Addison, invariably (or with exceptions so rare that they only strengthen the assertion), attempts to embody his thoughts in involved and high-sounding language, fearing to trust to that simplicity whose charm and power he recognises; and retracing his steps only when he perceives to what vain results they conduct him. Complexity may be imitated. Originality is the soul of simplicity. Nothing can be finer than Tennyson's "Locksley Hall," or Poe's "Raven;" and no poems of the present day have been more extensively imitated. Among these imitations there have been many, which in melody and rhythm, were equally perfect with their models, and which, if taken to pieces and compared verse by verse, would have suffered little by the comparisonyet were universally recognised as failures. Their authors in composing them, doubtless exulted over the fidelity of each verse to its original; yet, as stanza after stanza grew to its full proportion, even parental partiality could not overlook their lifelessness. And the reason does not lie very far back of the fact. The model was conceived and executed in one spirit, and for one purpose. It became unity, harmony. Each verse mates its fellow, and the genius of the whole growing out of the fitness of the parts, seems, nevertheless, to transcend that on which it is materially dependent. This the imitator overlooks. He copies verse by verse. With the slightest deviation from the train of thought of the original, the essence of the composition departs. Thenceforth his work becomes unfit, disjointed; as valueless as an Eton boy's "nonsense verses," which simply call out his knowledge of the quantity of syllables, and are profitable only for future efforts in a bolder strain. Constant readers of Addison will write more or less like Addison; readers of Scott, like Scott; readers of Macaulay, like Macaulay. Let them be satisfied with the spirit of these great exemplars, the letter killeth. A direct imitation of Macaulay, by his closest student, would inevitably be despicable. The world has ADVENT OF MAY. BY SIDNEY DYER. SHE comes like a dream, or the bow on the shower, With steps falling lightly as dew on the flower; As her spirit-like beauty o'ershadows the hills. The hum of the bee, Kind welcomes for thee. What voices of gladness float up on the air, To greet with affection the gem of the year. With anthems of glee, Love's welcome for thee. With hearts full of gladness, to groves now repair The merry young maidens with flower-wreathéd hair; And heaven looks down with a smile on the scene, As their songs fill the air, and their steps print the green. As joyous they sing, And trip o'er the lea, Kind welcomes for thee. It comes like an angel of light from above, And Nature, entranced by the heaven-born lay, The soft blushing flower, Love's welcomes for thee. THE WORLD'S FAIR. BY MRS. C. M. KIRKLAND. this greater invasion will pour new blood into his shrunken veins, and make him fresh and hungry as a vampire. He is already cutting, in suitable blocks, hosts of Gallic neighbours in pinched caps and voluminous trousers; German deep-thinkers, in hair and meerschaums; and transatlantic corsairs, in their boots and gigantic cigars; and conning jokes of all calibres, ready to be fired as occasion may demand or permit. Beware, oh ye invited ones, how ye carry anything national with you to the standard-country! Pass for English, if possible; or, if that may not be, propitiate the keen eye of infallibility by an attempt, at least. You may perhaps come to be tolerated as exceptions. Forget to guess, and partition off every sentence into quarter-sections with "You know." Let not your vowels sound "spectaclebestrid ;" and, by way of compensation, you may hesitate in your speech to heart's content, as thus-"This is a-a-a-very-a-a won derful-a-exhibition,-a-really-a-a!” Listen in docile silence to the instructions of the world's elders, even though they teach precisely what you knew best before, and beware how you institute a comparison, in the smallest item, between England and the United AMONG all the marvels of this marvellous age-including ocean-steaming, and magnetic telegraphs, and California gold, and Mormon cities-there is nothing stranger than this proposition on the part of England for a World's Fair. If the Jews should suddenly break out of their tradition-fastnesses, and offer to intermarry with all sorts of Gentiles, we could hardly find it more wonderful. England! selfsatisfied, exclusive, outside-barbarian despising England; hating France, sneezing at Germany, rating Italy as the small dust of the balance, making petty account of Russia and all the northern nations, and deaf, dumb, and blind,"lapped in lead," towards the United States; what can she mean by inviting all these insignificances to make a descent upon her shores, each bringing something, like the guests at a Scotch penny wedding, or those at a Western minister's donation-party? The matter has a wild look. We hope our dear old mother is not in her dotage. To issue invitations for a party is one thing; to open one's doors and ask in the public quite another. A certain Ameri-States, unless prepared to give unquestionable can mayor once, wishing to be consistent in his democracy, made known that he would be at home to whomsoever inclined to call on him on New Year's day: and, as the invitation was accepted in good faith, the excellent function- | ary not only found whole hecatombs insufficient to feed his friends, but looked in vain, after the melée, for any remnant of his Brussels carpets except the selvage. And amiable Lord Eglinton, when he took pains, in his benevolence, to get up a world's show, which, after all, the graceless world laughed at, had his beautiful park-sward reduced to such a pulpy mass, that Mr. Willis conjectured, we recollect, that some silk shoes and clouted brogues would not turn up until the next spring ploughing, preparatory to new-laying with grass. Stately, cultivated, swept and garnished, finished England! what a shock will thy gentility feel at such an avalanche of the unmannered, the benighted, the hard to teach, most of whom do not know enough even to know that they know nothing! We are half inclined to suspect that the whole thing is a sly hoax of Alfred Crowquill, Leech & Co., who have taken this new mode of providing fun, for years, for the Queen's lieges, as Theodore Hook invited thousands of trades-people to be at a certain house in Bond Street at a certain hour, in order that he and his wicked associates might enjoy the awkward dismay of the crowd, from a window. Punch lived on last year's French visit to London for months; | preference to the former. Do not be betrayed by the seemingly impartial questionings of the transatlantics, into an honest opinion of any matter in which the two countries could possibly be rivals; but discreetly turn the conversation to the magnificent fountain of Trafalgar Square (the like of which you never saw before!), or the commodiousness of London omnibusses and Thames steamers. But really, what will London do with so many strangers? M. Soyer is to dispense sublimated eatables from Gore House, long the elegant home of poor Lady Blessington, whose once pictured walls must reek with confused steams, and the fair verandah, from which she delighted to show her guests the venerable trees and velvet verdure of Kensington Gardens, be desecrated by tobacco-smoke. M./ Soyer promises great displays of the gastronomic art, and no American will fail to test his far-famed skill; but even he, proverbially magniloquent, offers only to accommodate thousands daily," at his "Symposium of all nations," and what will that do towards refreshing the multitudes that must not only eat and drink, but sleep, within hum of the Great Exhibition? It is said, we know not how truly, that there is to be an American restaurant at some convenient point near the grand centre of interest, at which such of our countrymen as carry their habits abroad with them will be able to obtain their favourite dishes. This brings up the question, "Have we any national dishes?" A |