In the olden time the walls were covered with the work; and Dryden says,

"The casements are with golden tissue spread, And horses' hoofs, for earth, on silken tapestry tread."

In the middle ages this art was elevated to such a degree, that Raphael was employed to make the designs for the hangings at the Vatican, which were worked at Arras, a town in Artois; and, consequently, we find that tapestry hangings are frequently called arras. The arras was hung on wooden frames, and therefore vacant spaces were left between the arras and the walls, which frequently served for concealment; and we find many allusions to it made in Shakspere. In the " 'Merry Wives of Windsor" (Act iii., s. 3), when Sir John Falstaff is in Ford's house, and his page, Robin, says that Mrs. Page is coming,

he says,

"I will ensconce me behind the arras." Then when Hamlet seeks an interview with the Queen (Act iii., s. 3), Polonius hides behind the arras; and when he repeats the call for help, uttered by the Queen, Hamlet makes a pass with his sword through the arras, and kills him. Spenser, in his "Faery Queen," says.

"Thence to the hall, which was on every side With rich array and costly arras dight."

The display of tapestry in the Exhibition was not very great, but was, generally, very good; which, in a measure, made up for its scarcity. The first thing that we feel bound to notice is the bannerscreen exhibited by W. Jancowski, of York (c. 19, No. 48), with a richly-carved pedestal of couchant lions forming the base, and female figures seated above them, on leaf-scrolls, from which the pole ascends, and is surmounted by Royal arms, richly carved. The banner represents the arms of the city of York, embroidered on pale blue satin, in gold, silver, and silks, and trimmed with rich bullion and tassels. The same manufacturer also exhibited a gorgeous chair, embroidered on ruby-coloured silk velvet, mounted in rich carving and gilding, and the arm-cushions trimmed with solid gold bullion fringes. The seat represented the Prince of Wales's feathers in the centre of a wreath, executed in a new style of silk embroidery; the motto in

gold and silver, and the coronet in gold, silver, and jewels. The back of the chair was worked with the Royal arms, the lion in raised gold work; the unicorn in raised silver, with a gold coronet; and the diadem the coat of arms there is a curiouslyin silks, gold, silver, and jewels. Below wrought wreath of roses, shamrocks, and thistles, suspended from the motto-ribbon.

Mrs. C. Mee, of Bath, well known to the ladies as joint-editress with Miss Austin of the Work-Table Magazine, and by her writings on needlework, exhibited some embroidery applied to decorative furniture (c. 19, No. 51), and a banner-screen of the flags of all nations, grouped together, and richly embroidered in fine silks, supported on a pole surmounted by a lion, and held by a figure of Peace, modelled from Ca

nova's celebrated statue. The screen was honourably mentioned by the Commis

sioners.

Theodosia Hall, of Exeter, exhibited (c. 26, No. 63), a cheval-screen, consisting of an effective group of flowers worked in Berlin wool in a new style.

Mrs. Sarah Le Mercier, of Elm-tree House, Hammersmith, exhibited (c. 26, No. 181), a chair, designed by herself in honour of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, and executed by J. W. Papworth, Esq.; the carved work of the chair was by Mr. W. Jones. A glance at our engraving will furnish a better explanation of it than mere words. The peculiarity consists in the combination of the ancient Welsh harp, the plume, and coronet, and the garland of roses, shamrocks, and thistles, confined by the convolvulus major. The seat is worked with oak-leaves and apples. The ground is a rich diaper of two damascene-coloured silks, and the feet are richly carved claws, set off by a bold deep fringe above.

It

One of the most beautiful pieces of needlework of its class exhibited in the Crystal Palace was the tapestry screen we have had engraved on the preceding page. is the work of Miss Bifield, of Canonburyplace, Islington, who was partially assisted by about sixty of her pupils, whose names were placed upon the back of the screen.

St. George is seen in the foreground of the lower part of the screen, in the act of slaying the Dragon, while he supports himself by clinging to the British oak, which partially conceals and protects him;

on the centre branches, amidst the acorns and leaves, are suspended the arms of England, Scotland, and Ireland, encircled by the national emblems, and surmounted by the Royal diadem; while the motto, "Quis separabit," is appropriately arranged underneath.

On one side, suspended by a ribbon, is the badge and cross of St. George, and on the other that of St. Andrew, with their corresponding mottoes, in old English; black, upon a pale gold-coloured label. The arms of her Most Gracious Majesty, quartered with those of St. George, as head of the order, and those of his Royal Highness Prince Albert, are placed on the topmost branches of the oak; each surmounted by a crown, and surrounded by the ribbon of the Order of the Garter, with the letters V. R. and P. A. respectively. Above this is the crest of the heir apparent, placed between the shields of the royal parents, clustering round which are rose buds, emblematic of the junior branches of the royal family,—and the motto "Ich Dien," in old English, underneath the cognizance of the Prince of Wales.

On the lowest branches are the arms of the Duke of Wellington, surrounded by the Garter, and surmounted by the ducal coronet, and those of the late Sir Robert Peel, significant of the great military and political leaders of the present age. Each quartering was worked on a separate piece of velvet, and then attached to the remainder of the design. The screen was most appropriately framed in oak, the feet being formed by the lion and unicorn bearing the shield of England, and the corners ornamented by the national

emblems.

We understand that the authorities of the Herald's College pronounced the work strictly correct in the heraldic details, and therefore we were not surprised to find it placed in the Medieval Court (C. 26. No. 534), the more especially as the elaborate details throughout were executed with that skill that has hitherto characterised Miss Bifield, while the effective grouping fully sustained her fame as a designer.

PEDANTRY Coms our heads with learned lumber, and takes out our brains to make room for it.

MONICA.

MONICA, a native of Tagaste, in Nu midia, was born about the year 330 She early manifested ardent affections and an amiable disposition. She had also strong religious tendencies, which were cherished more by the instructions of a pious and infirm domestic in her father's family, than by the influence or example of her parents. She married a man by the name of Patricius, from an obscure station in society, a pagan, of an ambitious, impetuous temper, but warmhearted and full of generosity.

Their only child, Augustine, who was born November 13th, 354, they regarded with the fondest parental affection. In infancy, he displayed strong sensibilities and a brilliant intellect. The mother endeavoured to instil into his unfolding mind the elements of Christianity, and during a severe illness in childhood, he expressed deep convictions of sin, and desires of pardon through a Redeemer. But after his recovery, these impressions vanished, and were soon entirely effaced through associations with frivolous and evil companions, in a large public school where he was placed, at Madaura, a town of considerable note in the neighbourhood of Tagaste. Here the teachers, being heathens, did not seek to govern him by the fear of God, or the dictates of conscience. Sometimes appealing to a false sense of honour, and then embittering his spirit with taunts and reproaches, they subjected him to the demoralizing influences of pagan literature, and saw him without compunction plunging into excesses, and forging the chains of sinful habit. The vigilant eye of his mother was not near to watch over him, and with the recklessness of a wayward youth, he cast away the remembrance of her precepts.

At the age of sixteen he came to pass a year at home, in recess from study. She was not slow to perceive, amid his intellectual attainments, the moral ruin that had ensued. He had made great proficiency in the Latin classics, and in rhetoric, and the pride of the father exulting in the genius of his son, often induced him to smile at his unbridled passions and excesses, as the natural gaiety of

youth, or of dawning and daring manhood. But the pious mother remonstrated and wept, and poured out her sorrows to Him who heareth prayer.

Filial affection once so vivid in the bosom of Augustine, had now become dimmed and perverted by indulgence in sin. With that contempt of female sway which often springs up in the mistaken, and ill-disciplined youth, he even gloried in disobeying her precepts. He boasted of his liberty, while he was the slave of wickedness, and daily bearing its scourge. Long afterwards, he confesses with compunction: "The voice of my mother, or rather the voice of God in her, I despised, thinking it to be only the voice of a

woman."

Patricius, anxious that the talents of his son should enjoy every advantage of cultivation, determined to send him to the institutions at Carthage, as a road to future eminence. The expenses of this arrangement could not be borne, without entrenching on his own comforts. But paternal love and ambition moved him to sustain the privation cheerfully.

Amid the crowded population of Carthage, Augustine was surrounded by new temptations, and plunged still lower in vicious excesses. Though not entirely negligent of his studies, the theatre, and the public games were his favourite resort. He had been there scarcely a year, when the madness of his course was checked by the death of his father. The sorrow of this bereavement made, for a time, keen inroad into his sensibilities.

The widowed Monica had been allowed the consolation of seeing her husband during his last illness turn to the Saviour, with penitence and trust. Her faithful entreaties to him, and intercessions for him were blessed with this reward. Yielding back to God the being for whose conversion she had laboured both day and night, she now clung to her son, as the only remaining object of earthly solicitude. Denying herself, for the sake of his education, all save the necessaries of life, she continued him in his situation at Carthage, for three years longer, at her own expense. By the filial gratitude that should have rewarded such efforts she was not cheered, but continually obliged to mourn over his profligacy.

In her loneliness and prostration of spirit, she was induced to apply for counsel to an eminently pious divine. She besought him to use his influence to reclaim her erring son. Believing that any direct appeal would be frustrated by the pride of science, and flattery of the world, to which Augustine was inured, he advised her to continue steadfast in prayer, and to wait the will of God. Still, the mother, with floods of tears, in the most earnest manner supplicated his aid. "Go thy way," exclaimed he, "it is not possible that the child of such tears and prayers should perish."

At the age of 21, Augustine accompanied his mother to their native village, Tagaste, and undertook to obtain a subsistence by opening a grammar-school. There, a friend to whom he had been strongly attached from infancy, and whose intellectual pursuits were congenial to his own, was suddenly smitten with fever, and died. He felt and deplored his loss, with the most poignant grief. Monica, always watchful for some emotions of Divine grace in his heart, fervently hoped that this anguish might lead him to the only true source of consolation. But her hope was vain. Reminded of his beloved friend, by the solitude of every place whither they had been wont to resort, he abruptly quitted Tagaste, and returned to Carthage. Thither Monica followed him, to taste the bitterness of seeing him drown his grief in the depths of worldliness and dissipation. Still, amid the agony of disappointment, she never forsook him-never despaired of him. nine years," he says, "while I was rolling in the slime of sin, often attempting to rise, yet sinking still deeper, did she persist in incessant prayer."

"For

At length, becoming dissatisfied with Carthage, he determined to go to Rome. Thinking that it would be impossible to obtain the consent of his mother, and unwilling to withstand her remonstrances, he resolved to depart without her knowledge. But with that premonition which ardent love sometimes supplies, she became aware of his movements even in their deepest secresy, and continually hovered about him. When just on the point of embarkation, she suddenly stood beside him, inquiring with deep emotion,