kinds of grape, canister, bar, chain, and other shot, hand grenades, &c. Connected with the pattern room is the laboratory, in which the cartridges, rockets, fireworks, and other articles of chemical construction used in the service are prepared. In the storehouse of the Royal Artillery there are generally kept complete outfittings for 10,000 horses, and some time since there were sufficient articles for 20,000 cavalry. In the field there are no less than 24,000 pieces of ordnance, of which nearly 3,000 are of gun-metal, the remainder being of iron. These are arranged in pieces of 202 different sizes. In other parts of the arsenal there are nearly 3,000,000 cannon balls and bomb-shells, painted and arranged in pyramidal groups.

Cyclorama of Lisbon. The enterprising proprietor of the Colosseum has just added another marvel of art to those that already attract strangers to this magnificent establishment, by the appropriation of a large portion of the building in Albany Street for a Cyclorama, or moveable exhibition of paintings, and for the purposes of a concert-room as well. The hall or saloon was opened last evening for a private view, when a splendid series of pictures were exhibited, illustrative of the terrible earthquake of Lisbon in 1765. Our limits will not permit our entering into the details of the exhibition, but we can speak in general terms of its extraordinary beauty and effective character. Nothing, indeed, can be more sweetly serene and lovely than the calm water of the Tagus-more grand and impressive than the noble buildings, churches, and castles that clothe the sides of the majestic heights-or more terrible than the fearfully-agitated waves, amidst which numerous gallant vessels are seen rolling madly on their mountain summits, or plunging into the awful depths below. The me chanical, as well as the scenic effects in this remarkable scene, are rendered more impressive by the deafening clamour of the storm, which is exceeding well imitated, and elicited repeated plaudits; indeed, it was unanimously pronounced a chef d'œuvre of art. The spacious apartment in which the Cyclorama is exhibited represents the vestibule of a noble mansion, decorated with ranges of columns of Sienna marble, its sides filled with copies of Raffaelle's matchless Cartoons in the VatiThe panels in front of the gallery are ornamented in an exceedingly novel and rich style, with Bacchanalian figures in

can.

imitation of ormulu. On the ceiling are painted beautiful allegorical figures and groups. The whole building, and its elegant and tasteful decorations, have been projected and designed by Mr. W. Bradwell, the talented projector of the Colosseum in its present state. The painting of the Cyclorama of Lisbon has been executed by Messrs. Danson and Son. The appropriate musical illustrations to the various scenes were performed by Mr. Pittman on a new fine-toned Appollonicon, by Messrs. Bevington and Sons.

Table Talk.

THE REIGNING FAMILY OF EGYPT.-Abbas Pacha is the grandson of Mehemet Ali, his father, Tousson Pasha, long since deceased, having been the Pasha's eldest son. Both in character and intellect he is very inferior to his predecessors— a poor substitute for the energetic old Macedonian, and an unworthy successor even of Ibrahim. The latter, on his return from Constantinople, as the Viceroy of Egypt, two months ago (his reign lasted just 68 days), found Abbas indulging himself in such shocking debauchery, that, to put a stop to the scandal, he commanded him to quit the country immediately. Abbas, under the pretext of a pilgrimage to Mecca-the Turkish equivalent for ostracism-accordingly set out on his travels. No sooner, however, had he reached the Djidda, where he was beyond the reach of Ibrahim's wrath, than he declared the season too far advanced for a pilgrimage, and re-commenced his former disgraceful pastimes. But the intelligence of the Viceroy's approaching dissolution soon induced him to hurry back to Alexandria. Such is the degenerate man to whom the Porte, in virtue of its treaties with foreign powers is compelled to confide the government of Egypt. The only alternative is Sayd Pasha, the uncle of this man, a positive idiot.

KOSCIUSKO'S HORSE.-The celebrated Polish general, Kosciusko, wished to send some bottles of good wine to a clergyman at Solothurn, and as he hesitated to send them by a servant, lest a part should be smuggled away, he gave the commission to a young man of the name of Zeltner, and desired him to take a horse which he himself usually rode. Young Zeltner on his return, said to Kosciusko that he would never ride his horse again, unless he gave his purse at the same time. The general asked what he meant? He replied, "As soon as I met a poor man on the road taking off his hat and asking for charity, the horse immediately stopped, and would not stir till something was given to the petitioner, and, as I had no money about me, I was obliged to make a motion as if I had given him alms, to satisfy the horse.”

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PAT'S WIT.-Curious and odd things not unfrequently occur before the mayor." The other day, in attending to applications for situations in the police force, the mayor of Belfast, it was supposed, was going to invest Patrick Murphy with a "star," when some of the Irish competitors outside the railings cried out, "Are ye goin' to pint Pat, yer honour? He can't write his own name, yer honour." I am only receiving applications to-day, in a fortnight we make appointments, "said the mayor; and Pat was told to call on that day two weeks. The friend through whose influence Pat had been induced to apply for office said to him as they came away from the hall, "Now, Pat, go home, and every night do you get a big piece of paper, and a good stout pen, and keep writing your name. I'll set the copy for you." Pat did as directed; and every night for a fortnight he was seen running out his tongue and swaying his head over "Patrick Murphy," in the style generally known as "coarse hand." When the day of appointment came, Pat found himself "before the Mayor urging his claim. "Can you write? Isaid that excellent functionary. "Troth an' it's myself that jist kin!" answered Pat. "Take that pen," said the mayor, and let us see you write. Write your name." He took the pen as directed, when a sort of exclamatory laugh burst from his competitors who were in attendance. 66 How-ly Paul! d'ye mind that, Mike! Pat's a writin'!-he's got a goose quill in his fist!" "So he has, be Jappers!" said Mike, but small good 't will do him; he can't write wid it, man!" But Pat did write;

he had recorded his name in a bold round hand. “That'll do," said the mayor. His foiled rivals looked in each others' faces with undisguised astonishment. A lucky thought struck them. "Ask him to write somebody els's name, yer honour," said one of them in a breath. "That's well thought of said the mayor. Pat, write my name." Here was a dilemma; but Pat was equal to it. "Me write yer honour's name! exclaimed he with a well-dissembled "holy horror." Me commit a forgery, and I a-goin' on the pelisse! I can't do it yer honour." And he couldn't,-but his wit saved him, and he is now a "star" of the first magnitude.

A LITERARY FRAUD OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.-The Venerable Edward Churton, Archdeacon of Cleveland, has just published an interesting account of the singular literary fraud practised on the memory of Bishop Jeremy Taylor, by at tributing to his authorship the well-known work entitled "Contemplations on the State of Man." These "Contemplations" were first published in 1684, about seventeen years after the death of Taylor, with a statement signed by Robert Harris (a person who has left no other memorial of himself), to the effect that Bishop Taylor had "left these holy contemplations in the hands of a worthy friend of his, with a full purpose to have them printed had he lived," but without even naming the "worthy friend" to whom they were entrusted. On this warranty the work has been hitherto held to be Taylor's; and, although excellent in itself, the fraud no doubt was a gainful one; as the "Contemplations" under Taylor's name became exceedingly popular, and ten editions were printed and sold in the half century following its first appearance. About ten years ago, Archdeacon Churton became doubtful of its authenticity; but proof of the fraud has only just been obtained by a discovery of the original in the works of Juan Eusebio Nieremberg, one of the most eminent writers of the church of Spain in the reign of Philip IV. The treatise usually attributed to the author, "Holy Living and Dying," made its first appearance in an English dress, without name of place or publisher, under the title of "A Treatise of the Difference between the Temporal and Eternal. Composed in Spanish by Eusebius Nieremberg, S. J. Translated into English by Sir Vivian Mullineux, Kt., and since revised according to the tenth and last Spanish Edition." "From this translation," says Arch

deacon Churton, " was manufactured the treatise entitled 'Bishop Taylor's Contemplations on the State of Man;' much after the fashion in which an ingeniously idle school-boy may steal his theme from Addison or Johnson, taking care not to follow the original author through many pages consecutively, nor to commence with his commencement; but patching the work together, not without many turnings and dodgings, and with a few sentences and paragraphs which are not to be found in Nieremberg, and a few of the prayers at the ends of the chapters."

THE SIGN OF THE FLOWER-POT.-There resided at Sunbury, in a large house, an elderly gentleman, a bachelor, of somewhat eccentric disposition, whose ruling passion was for his garden. This was kept in the most admirable order, and decorated regardless of expense, with a profusion of ornaments in the very height of suburban fashion. Here, one fine afternoon, when the flowers had reached the acme of refulgence, Mr. Theodore Hook pulled up his dennet. A powerful tug at the bell brought a sort of half-gardener, half-groom, to the gate in double quick time. "Take the mare round to the stable, put her in a loose box, and rub her down well. I'll come and see her fed myself in a few minutes: none of you rascals are to be trusted!" So saying, the young gentleman threw the reins to the domestic, marched leisurely along the broad, brown sugar-looking walk, dexteorusly cutting off here and there an over-grown carnation with the lash of his driving whip, and entered the hall. Giving another tremendous jerk to the bell-wire in passing, he walked into the dining-room, the door of which happened to be open, took up a magazine, and threw himself at full length upon the sofa. A tidilydressed maid-servant appeared at the summons. "Bring me a glass of brandy-and-water, my dear, and send Boots.". “Boots,' and brandy-and-water-La, sir!" exclaimed the astonished girl." You may fetch me a pair of slippers yourself, if you like; so make haste, and you shall have a kiss when you come back."-Duped by the authoritative air assumed by the visitor, it would be indecorous to suppose another motive; the girl disappeared, and speedily returning with the slippers, observed: "If you please, sir, I have brought you a pair, but they are master's, and he is rather particular."" Particular! Nonsense! Where's the brandy

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