the British Museum, a second in the Bodleian, and a third in the possession of Mr. Christie. Biographical and bibliographical notices by the Marquis, who appears to have been more of a scholar than is the average collector, give the catalogue special value. After the death of the Marquis his library was sold by his heirs. The sale, the first portion of which took place shortly after the suppression of the Commune, was a fiasco. Some of the rarest volumes are now in the British Museum, others rest on Mr. Christie's own shelves, while the commoner books may still, Mr. Christie says, be found on the Quais in Paris, and in the catalogues of most French second-hand booksellers.

IN

THE PRICE OF AN OLD PRINT.

N respect of the excitement it caused, no sale of Marlborough or Hamilton library can compare with that of the Griffith's prints. A sufficiently unromantic occupation seems that of knocking down books and pictures to a few very quiet individuals whose chief object appears to be self-effacement, and who, when they bid, do it not seldom as though they were guilty of a misdemeanour. I doubt, however, whether the most thrilling moment, in real or simulated life, the time when the fate of the stage heroine trembles in the balance, or that when the noise round the gambling table is hushed, and the crowd of players watches with breathless attention the bold gambler who has brought the bank to agony, is really more impressive than is the scene when some prize like the Valdarfer "Decameron," or the "Doctor Arnoldus Tholinex" of the Griffith's sale, is closely contested.

In the case last mentioned the excitement was simply inconceivable. On the one side stood M. Clément, of Paris, the champion who held the field against all comers. His first opponent was Mr. Colnaghi, who fell off when the price reached was eight hundred pounds. Mr. Noseda then entered the lists, and was greeted with ringing applause. At the price of eleven hundred pounds he, too, retreated, and Mr. Addington came in, and amidst loudest cheers carried up the price four hundred pounds. At fifteen hundred pounds the last opponent was worsted, and M. Clément for £1,510 took off the prize for a Rouen manufacturer, who, having been for some years the possessor of what till now was the highest-priced print in existence, paid fifteen hundred pounds rather than forfeit his position. Of the famous portrait by Rembrandt no other copy is supposedly accessible, the two or three specimens in existence being in public collections. The price paid is two hundred and thirty poundṣ more than has previously been given for any print.

AT

"THE REAL LORD BYRON."

T length the great Byron scandal is buried. Among the consequences which must follow the publication by Mr. Jeaffreson of his two volumes entitled "The Real Lord Byron," is the complete dispersal of what of mephitic and pestilential fog clung since the days of Mrs. Stowe's terrible accusation around the memory of the poet. Selfish and mendacious Byron is seen to be. In a vein of mingled cynicism and vanity he would charge himself with vices of which he was innocent. The accusation brought against him by Lady Byron, however, was shaped long after the period of separation, and after a trivial misunderstanding had aroused in her mind strong feelings of animosity against Mrs. Leigh. Not even for the sake of contradicting it will I mention again the nature of the charge which, after startling and shocking England for a few weeks, was allowed to die out. It is pleasant to think, however, that Mr. Jeaffreson's researches in connection with the Historical Manuscripts Commission have brought forth absolute disproof of the dishonouring accusations. That the information obtained is such as casts a flood of illumination upon Lord Byron's life, lighting up the portions which previously were darkest, and rendering unsatisfactory and incomplete all existing biographies, is not more a matter of congratulation than is the fact that the discovery has been made by one so capable as Mr. Jeaffreson of turning it to best account for public benefit.

WE

THE CHESS TOURNAMENT.

E have not yet arrived at the days when chess is regarded as an exact science. The conditions of modern play, however-and especially the results, so far as they are yet seen, of the great tourney-prove that the days of brilliant openings are waning. Gambits, which introduced into chess play an element almost revolutionary, are now in little favour, and the close defence is continually adopted. One man, Herr Steinitz, tried a new variation of what is known as the Hamps opening, with sufficiently disastrous results. In his first contest with Herr Englisch he was apparently embarrassed before a dozen moves had been made. A second defeat from M. Tschigorin with the same opening convinced him of its dangers, while it seriously interfered with his prospect of carrying off the first prize. On the whole, the Ruy Lopez opening seems to have been in high favour. While I write the championship seems likely to pass from Herr Steinitz to Dr. Zukertort. This state of affairs may, of course, be changed in a couple of days. There has been a

remarkable number of drawn games—a thing to be expected as the analyses of openings are carried further. Even now a dozen or fourteen opening moves are probably what players call "book." The tournament is bound to occupy a conspicuous place in the annals of chess. On no previous occasion have more players of equal eminence contended, nor have the prizes offered been of equal value.

THE ARTERIES OF LONDON.

WOOD service will be performed by the Strand Improvement

to

The

Society if, thanks to its exertions, the block of buildings between St. Mary's Church and St. Clement Danes is removed. An obstruction such as these buildings constitute is now intolerable. time, however, has come when tinkering with our great thoroughfares will no longer serve any purpose. London has already grown so large that the arteries do not suffice for the circulation. As the rate of increase progresses in a cumulative ratio, a state of affairs already serious in the highest degree must of necessity grow worse. A twelvemonth ago I pointed out that the only way to relieve the Strand is to render the Thames Embankment attractive, which can only be done by lining it with shops. Besides sending along that route an increased number of foot passengers, you will also despatch after them the crawling cabs-now the worst of street impediments. Let the Thames Embankment, from Blackfriars Bridge to Westminster, be converted into a covered street, like the Rue de Rivoli or the Palais Royal, and let the gardens, if their maintenance is necessary, be on the roofs of the shops. Blank spaces will, of course, have to be left for Somerset House and the Temple Gardens. A pleasant and attractive route will then be provided. You will never turn the pedestrian and cab traffic to the Embankment until you provide shop frontage and the gaiety and light it contributes.

SYLVANUS URBAN.