cradle hymn of Dr. Watts, would be more likely to produce this effect than the sumptuous, the splendid, the magnificent spectacle of the shrine of the nativity; but in the power of impressing the gazer with the reality of the objects presented to the eye, the glittering lamps, the stately pillars, the shrine, the crucifix, and the pictures, it is unrivalled. I have ascended the staircase, passed through the darkened room at its summit, and groped my way downwards, with my hand against the wall, to a seat immediately in front of the part appointed for the exhibition. Audible voices tell me that half a dozen or a dozen persons must be present, but as yet I can discern no one. Scribbling with my pencil, in darkness, I am gazing on the illuminated lamps, which seem to cast no light, except round the immediate place where they are suspended. A female voice is indulging in a levity quite at variance with the impressive gloom, and an occasional laugh is heard from the opposite end of the benches. The low, tremulous toll of a distant bell has vibrated through the place, and, by slow and scarcely perceptible degrees, the other lamps of the picture have been illuminated. There is the shrine of the nativity! A correct resemblance of the one now in existence in Bethlehem, said to be erected where our Saviour was born. "And thou, Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda; for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel," Matt. ii. 6. At this moment, the ardent fervour of an oriental fancy could scarcely surpass, in its creations, the magnificent scene before me. The silvery sparkling of the burning lights; the golden glare of the lamps, chains, and picture frames; the rich yellow, topaz-like radiance that is shed around; and the deep, mellow shadows, with the bold relief they afford, are truly exquisite. The two worshippers seen at their devotions, the one kneeling with his face buried in his hands; the other altogether prostrated on the floor, add much to the awfulness of the scene. Brilliant and varied hues, striking objects, with strong lights and shadows, are blending their influence, with that of stillness, solemnity, and interesting associations. The light-hearted female has ceased her jocose remarks; the scene has subdued her hilarity, and a breathless silence reigns around. "And To the right is the spot intended to denote where the manger stood, and near it is an altar to mark the place where the magi worshipped the Redeemer; when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense and myrrh,” Matt. ii. 11. It is said that there are few spots pointed out to the pilgrim or visitor to the Holy Land, better authenticated than that of the nativity. It seems scarcely probable that the early Christians would altogether lose sight of its locality. According to history, a temple was erected over the spot, by the emperor Hadrian, about a hundred years before the present edifice was formed. Whether contempt or jealousy of the Christians led on the emperor to this undertaking, it would be hard to determine. Bethlehem, the birthplace of David, is represented by travellers to be a village beautifully situated on an emi nence overlooking the Dead Sea, and the solitary wilderness of Engedi. The olive, the vine, and the fig tree flourish in the country around it; and from the high grounds may be seen the distant mountains of Moab and Idumea. Changing as the scene does, representing the shrine of the nativity, as it now exists, and then the celebration of mass by the Franciscan monks, the visitor gazes with astonishment and awe; but when, by imperceptible degrees, the whole, as if by magic, becomes lighted up with bewildering brilliancy, and the organ chaunts a solemn tune, his amazement is extreme. CORONATION OF QUEEN VICTORIA.—This splendid representation cannot fail to interest the spectator, for, though a sight of the ceremony is so much desired, few people, comparatively, can be present at a coronation. I am sometimes looking at the attractive personages congregated together on the canvass, and sometimes regarding the architecture and decorations of the venerable abbey of Westminster, as exhibited in the painting. They are both very effective, though appearing to some disadvantage, coming after the superior brilliancy of the scene which has so recently preceded them. The fixed position of the worshippers at their devotions, in the shrine of the nativity, is in strict keeping with the scene, and heightens the effect of the painting; but here, in the coronation, it is otherwise, for the motionless attitude of so many figures imparts a monotonous, statue-like ef fect that is never altogether dissipated. There sits the queen in king Edward's chair, holding in her hands the royal sceptre, the ensign of power and justice, and the rod, the emblem of equity and mercy The archbishop of Canterbury is placing the crown upon her head. At her right hand stand the peers who have assisted at the ceremony, in their gowns of crimson velvet, and capes of ermine. At her left hand, stand the bishops, robed in black and white. In the box, on one side, are the royal family; and in the other parts, the foreign ambassadors with their ladies, the peers and peeresses, the judges, the lord mayor, the sheriffs, maids of honour, officers, and other attendants. Hark! what a startling sound! A flourish of trumpets has announced that Victoria is crowned; and imagination hears the distant thunderings of the Tower guns, and the nearer acclamations of the people, "God save the Queen!" The thunder of the cannon has ceased, the clangour of the trumpet is still, and even now can I fancy that the voice of the archbishop is heard, as he thus addresses the queen: "Be strong and of good courage, observe the commandments of God, and walk in his holy ways; fight the good fight of faith, and lay hold on eternal life; that in this world you may be crowned with success and honour, and when you have finished your course, receive a crown of righteousness, which God, the righteous Judge, shall give you in that day. Amen." The company assembled are growing a little more talkative; some are speaking of the queen, some are pointing out particular peers and peeresses, while others are admiring the dresses and decorations so prodigally spread out before them. The coronation is a striking and solemn ceremony, from the entrance into the cathedral to the recess. I think of the recognition, the oblations, the services, the sermon, the oath, and the anointing; the investing with the royal robes, the putting on the crown, the presentation of the Holy Bible, the benediction, the enthronization, the homage, the communion, and the final prayers. But while I am noting down these remarks, the company are preparing to depart. I must now proceed to the Cosmorama. THE COSMORAMA. This, then, is the Cosmorama. The little book put into my hand tells me that I have eight different views to gaze on. The Rope Bridge of Penipé, in South America; the Palace of Zenobia, at Palmyra; Constantinople during the conflagration in 1839; the Pa lace of Versailles; General View of Rome; the Park of Versailles; the Lake of Thun, in Switzerland; and the Village of Baden. Often and often have I reflected on the varied and almost endless gratifications which await us, both in the natural and artificial creation! Truly, if our harps are not on the willows, if our hearts are in tune, a song of thanksgiving should be ever in our mouths. The crowded city and the rural scene, Here the great Maker of this wondrous world In mountain, vale, and wood; and there displays Though supplied with a book, giving some account of the different paintings, and furnished with paper on which to note down any suggestion that may occur to me, this passage is so dark, that I can neither read nor write legibly, without approaching the little windows, through which I must look to see the views. THE ROPE BRIDGE OF PENIPE is the first painting, |