of oil colours-were already passed. Van Dyck was no more; but the adopted child of Bruges had achieved enough for his glory and that of his country, by imparting to colours a durability wanting in the works of Athens and of Rome. The centre of a catholic unity, enriched by the spoils of Rome, Italy gathered to itself the pupils of Van Dyck. After receiving instructions from this celebrated painter, Joseph Van Mander, a native of Bruges, travelled to Italy. At Venice the friendship of Dominique fully compensated him for the communication which he made to that artist of his master's discovery; and at the invitation of his new acquaintance the young painter directed his steps to Florence, there to behold the master-pieces collected by the Medici in their splendid capital. Here Van Mander sent to ask André del Castagno, a distinguished artist of Florence, if it would be agreeable to him to receive a foreign painter, who had a message for him from his friend Dominique of Venice. André was himself the bearer of the reply" Sir,” said he, “the friends of Dominique are my friends, and, moreover, are not all artists brothers ?" Van Mander accepted the invitation of the Florentine to take up his abode with him, and the two friends soon arrived at the house of the latter. Van Mander on seeing the works of André, bestowed on them the warmest praise; but when the Florentine had induced the young Fleming to exhibit his own pictures, he could not restrain his admiration of a Madeline repentante, into which Van Mander had thrown all the poesy of a religious soul, and the brilliant colouring so characteristic of the Flemish painters.

"I do not deserve these praises," said Van Mander. "This transparent varnish is not my invention. Its discovery is due to my master, Van Dyck. But what would you say were you to see his Agneau de l'Apocalypse ?"

"I know not which to admire the most, your talent or your modesty." "If you please," rejoined Van Mander, "I will impart to you my illustrious master's secret."

"How could I ever repay so great a favour ?"

"Did you not say that all artists were brothers ?"

And for some time the friends worked together in the studio of André, who had in a short time no reason to envy Van Mander. The Florentine had, however, no pleasure in contemplating that this discovery would place him amongst the best painters of Florence at times his brow clouded, his eyes became savage, he muttered angrily; and when the good Van Mander inquired the cause of this alteration, André replied that he had recently been disappointed in love. One night André seemed more than ever occupied with his gloomy thoughts; and as his companion was unable to please him he went out to walk in the spacious streets and squares of Florence. The moon cast a gigantic shadow on the church of the Annunziata, and Van Mander had scarce reached its beautiful door-way, when he felt the icy thrust of a dagger in his breast. He tore the weapon from the wound, and perceived a man in a cloak hurrying off in the shade. Van Mander fell upon the earth. Two men who were passing that way, found him weltering in his blood, and almost exhausted.

"Already a victim," observed one; "the bullies of Venice have taken up their abode at Florence."

"Only been here eight days," said the other, painter's story, "and thus early a dagger thrust. singular."

VOL. VI.NO. XIX.

when he had heard the By the Madona, this is

Y

traordinary group of corallines, which have hence frequently been considered as animals. The formation of silex occurs pre-eminently in Indian grasses, bamboos, and even trees. Dr. Moore observed that within the Circars, as far as Nagpore, consequently within the district watered by the Kistna and Godavery, a species of Jungle grass, with which Dr. Roxburgh was unacquainted, grows in immense quantities upon the mountain heights, in the knots of which a secretion of perfect silex takes place. The Calamus rotang, Equisetum hiemale, and certain species of bamboo, also produce these secretions of silex, which are better known by the name of Tabaschir, or vegetable opal. The bamboo in which this Tabaschir is secreted, Langford Kennedy observed in great quantities in the wilds of the mountain around Ramguhr, thirty geographical miles to the west of Calcutta, consequently in the vicinity of the sources of the rivers Brahmani and Mahanadi, along which it may also be distributed. This species of Bambas is called at Ramguhr Kutbinbanse that is, prickly wild bamboo-and the siliceous secretion Banselochum. It is not every plant which produces this secretion; those who seek it shake the stems, and detect it by its rattling within those plants which exceed in their stem two inches and a half in diameter. In the eastern islands it is found in much larger stems, but it is then of a dirty yellow colour. There are two different kinds; the one nearly white, but opaque, and the other resembling opal, but without any polish. The physicians of the Hindoos use it as a medicine, and it costs from eight to ten shillings the pound. Dr. Turnbull Christie observes that this Tabaschir is not found in all parts of India, nor in all the species of the same genus of bamboo, nor even in all the bamboos of the same locality. The secretion of this silex, therefore, may be referred to certain local and individual vegetable peculiarities which stand in a yet unknown connexion with its range of occurrence, like that of the diamond. As long as the bamboo is green the Tabaschir is moist and transparent, analogous to chalcedony in basalt, which becomes opaque by exposure to the air before it can be removed from the fissure. The Tabaschir possesses a similar property to Chalcedony, for by chemical analysis it produces silex. The bamboos are not the only plants which produce silex. The iron-wood, Calumidiri, and others which have been brought from the forests of Ava, are so filled with condensed carbon that they acquire almost the hardness of diamonds, and rather resemble petrifactions than succulent vegetables. It therefore becomes probable that many of the so called petrified species of wood have killed themselves by a superabundant secretion of the siliceous matter; whence we may comprehend their wide dispersion in both the deserts of Africa and Asia. Similar concretions of silex have frequently been found in abundance in the hard teak wood, the analysis of which, according to Wollaston, gave silex which appeared to come most closely to the diamond carbon, and seemed to support Jameson's interesting hypothesis of the possibility of a vegetable origin of this jewel, but which, indeed, still requires many experiments and observations to confirm.-Ritter Erdkunde, vi., 365.

MISCELLANEOUS.

VAN MANDER AT FLORENCE. Two thirds of the fifteenth century-at which period commenced in Belgium the revival of painting by the invention

"Gentle reader, we have catered for thee through many a goodly volume -have turned over wearily many a page, extracting, like the bee, the honey from them."-p. 158.

This is to us, even, who possess no small number of volumes on this subject, a great recommendation, since we find here brought together many of our favourite passages. As our limits forbid farther extended quotation from this work, we give a few of the original and beautiful thoughts which are scattered through its pages.Speaking of the repose and beauty of an English landscape at sunset, he says:

"Live not all these images in the heart, chasing away even care while we contemplate them, and throwing a soothing tranquillity over the soul-a rest which we remember, a poetry which owns no words, a delight which can never be forgotten ?"-p. 106.

Speaking of the early flowering of the Snowdrop:

"The north wind whistles, and the hoar-frost clothes the verdure-despoiled trees; an uniform white carpet covers the earth, the birds withhold their tuneful song, and the sealed waters cease to murmur as they roll along. The rays of the sun, enfeebled by the density of our atmosphere, shed a gloomy light over the fields, and the heart of man is sad while all Nature reposes in torpid tranquillity: still this delicate flower ventures forth alone, starting like an unexpected thought from the mind. Meek emblem of consolation! herald of spring, sent forth from the bowers of Flora, like the lovely dove from the ark, to visit the earth for a season, then return to tell whether the young buds burst forth, or the stern storm still careers over the flowerless valleys." -p. 35.

The man who thinks and writes in this manner is (as our readers may have learned from what we before said, or from other sources) a basket-maker; yet he has produced a work which, whether we regard the style, sentiments, and acquaintance with the literature of our country by which it is characterized, or feel the patriotic spirit and commendable desire to turn the attention of his countrymen to the pleasures which are free and open to all, which it breathes, would reflect the highest credit upon any author, of any rank, however distinguished that might be. It is, indeed, delightful to find sentiments such as his, existing in the bosoms of men to whom fortune has been a niggardly patron, as regards the goods of life; and we cannot but hope that a generous public will extend its encouragement to him in plenteous measure: this even the poorest may do, for those who cannot afford to purchase his book may at least buy his baskets. The ladies of Great Britain should resolve that all "flower baskets" used by them should be manufactured by him, none to be deemed genuine which do not bear the name of "Thomas Miller, Elliott's Row, Southwark." Let us remember the fate of Burns, and avoid a similar degree of injustice to any other son of genius.

"Some love affair, probably."

Van Mander was conveyed, by his desire, to the house of the Seigneur del Castagno, who seemed anxious at the absence of his friend. The door opened, and Van Mander was carried in, covered with blood.

"O!" exclaimed André, "what a terrible accident;" and, weeping, he threw himself on the body of the dying man. "Weep not,” said Van Mander, “your kindness deprives death of its sting." André appeared so much affected as to be unable to speak. After moistening his parched lips with water, the sufferer, somewhat refreshed, observed, "Have I done harm to any one? It was not to rob me that the assassin struck the blow, for he fled immediately. In my country the attack is made openly, and with the sword, but here the dagger!.

André would have called in a physician, but his friend prevented him, assuring him he was past human aid. A few minutes, and he breathed no more. On the morrow, the splendid obsequies for the deceased, attended by all the artists of Florence, attested the deep grief of the Seigneur André del Castagno, who also erected a costly monument to the memory of the young stranger. The whole city lauded the interest which he condescended to take in a foreigner; his celebrity increased, and the mother of Van Mander died blessing the name of André. Yet all this fame and honour satisfied not the Seigneur del Castagno. He was evidently suffering from some concealed remorse; his admirers said he had never forgotten the death of the young Fleming; his piety passed into a proverb, and he was called l'ami de l'étranger-the foreigner's friend.

Grief failed not to hasten the end of André. His health declined visibly; at length he could no longer handle his brushes. The physicians called in by his friends were refused admittance; he wished to die, for life was to him but a horrible punishment. Finally, feeling his approaching dissolution, he collected about him all his friends, and thus addressed them:_

"O you! whom I once called my friends, I am dying. I am too culpable to hope for pardon on earth or in heaven; still I feel that the avowal of my crime renders my last moments less painful. Many years ago, I received into my house a young foreigner who fell by the hand of an assassin-I am that assassin. Was it not infamous to stab one who had eaten at my table-whom I had called my brother? God would not be just were he to pardon so heinous an offence !"

A feverish strength sustained the dying man; he raised himself in bed, as if to escape from a frightful vision, and fell back motionless. The attendants departed in silence, a priest alone remaining to pray over the corpse. When this awful truth was known, the senate of Florence ordered the name of André del Castagno to be struck out from the records of the city. His pictures were publicly burnt, his ashes were scattered before the winds, and his name was held up to universal execration.—Translated and abridged from Le Constitutionnel, Journal Politique et Litteraire.

OBITUARY.

ON January 10, 1837, died John Robinson, M.D., at his house in Hall Gate, Doncaster, aged 59. He was born at Cawood Hall, near Spalding, Lincolnshire, acquired his medical education with the celebrated Dr. Harrison, and obtained his degree at Edinburgh. Subsequently he settled for a short time in Derby, but afterwards removed to Doncaster, where he practised about thirty years, with great credit and extensive usefulness. He acted for many years as physician to the Dispensary, and the poor will long remember his honest, upright manner, and genuine benevolence, with feelings of gratitude. He also gave his gratuitous services to the Yorkshire Deaf and Dumb Institution from its commencement till about a year before his death, when Dr. Scholfield was requested to accept the office. Such was his urbanity that he was respected by all parties and all classes; and by the unprejudiced practitioners of his time his name is associated with the pleasing recollection of his having been the first physician who devoted his talents to the relief of diseases of the spine on Dr. Harrison's principles of spinal Pa. thology. When Dr. Robinson was pupil to Dr. Harrison, at Horncastle, in Lincolnshire, and when Dr. H. began his spinal practice in London with such decided success, he communicated not only the principles, but all the manual and mechanical part of the treatment, to his favourite pupil, our late worthy friend; and nothing could be more pleasing than to witness the warm friendship which subsisted between these two gentlemen—the pupil honouring the master, and the teacher repaying this regard, through a long life, with marked confidence and esteem, until death claimed the younger man as his victim. We have often admired the magnanimity with which Dr. Robinson bore the odium which is attached to any new species of practice; but he knew and felt that it was one eminently calculated to mitigate, and often to cure, the maladies resulting from curvature of the spine. It was conviction that urged him "through evil report and good report," and he lived to see even the most vehement opponent admit the value of the system and the importance of the practice. There was in all Dr. Robinson's actions the impress of good principles, and he conscientiously persevered in that which his intellect decided to be correct; and although he valued the good opinions of his cotemporaries, yet he never compromised his consistency or integrity to obtain it. He might not be always right, but he was never intentionally wrong. He was invariably candid and just, never indulging in spleen at disappointment, nor did he make the errors of others a subject of comment. To his cotemporaries he was just, and particularly appreciated any kindness or attention; but he was likewise much pained when he experienced the contrary, if unmerited; and when he finished his earthly career there was but one sentiment manifested, that of great regret at his somewhat unexpected summons to "that bourn from whence no traveller returns."

January 16, 1837, at his father's house, in Glasgow, in his 36th year, Robert Macnish, M.D., author of Philosophy of Sleep, Anatomy of Drunkenness, Catechism of Phrenology, Book of Aphorisms, &c., works well known to the majority of our readers.

January the 17th, at his house, in Newhall-street, Birmingham, aged 36, Mr. George Parsons, Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, and one of