subjects. His reading has been principally confined to French authors; hence the Gallic idioms so common in his productions. He is an impressive writer, but his style is vitiated by an affectation of grandeur. Speaking so well as he does, it is not wonderful that he should be more fond of hearing himself talk than of listening to others, and apt to engross conversation in the society he receives. He entertains numerously, and no one has more skilful cooks, or gives better dinners; but he is himself so very abstemious, in both eating and drinking, that he seldom takes his place at his own table until the repast is nearly over, having probably dined in private upon a plain dish or two. He is fond of giving toasts, which he always prefaces in the most eloquent and appropriate manner; and his enthusiasm is so great, that he frequently mounts his chair, or the table, to propose them. Although the cigar is almost universally used in South America, Bolivar never smokes, nor does he permit smoking in his presence. He is never without proper officers in waiting, and keeps up a considerable degree of etiquette. Disinterested in the extreme with regard to pecuniary affairs, he is insatiably covetous of fame. Bolivar invariably speaks of England, of her institutions, and of her great men, in terms of admiration. He often dwells with great warmth upon the constancy, fidelity, and sterling merit of the English officers who have served in the cause of independence, under every varying event of the war. A further proof of his predilection towards England is that he has always had upon his personal staff a number of British subjects.

—Memoirs of General Miller.

Fine Arts.

EXHIBITIONS AT THE BAZAAR,

Oxford Street.

THE BRITISH DIORAMA.

On Saturday, the 11th, there was a private view of four new pictures, by Stanfield and Roberts, at this very interesting lounge. They consist of

1. The City of York, with the Minster on fire—a picturesque view of the cathedral, with a mimic display of the conflagration, the accuracy of which will make the property-man of the Opera tremble.

2. The Temple of Apollinopolis, in Egypt, a magnificent picture of Egyptian architecture—"noble in decay." The splendid leaved capitals of the pillars reminded us of the following, which we had that morning read in the Journal of a Naturalist:—"No portion of creation," says the author, "has been resorted to by mankind with more success for the ornament and decoration of their labours, than the vegetable world. The rites, emblems, and mysteries of religion; national achievements, eccentric marks, and the capricious visions of fancy, have all been wrought by the hand of the sculptor, on the temple, the altar, or the tomb; but plants, their foliage, flowers, or fruits, as the most graceful, varied, and pleasing objects that meet our view, have been more universally the object of design, and have supplied the most beautiful, and perhaps the earliest, embellishments of art. The pomegranate, the almond, and flowers, were selected even in the wilderness, and by divine appointment, to give form to the sacred utensils; the rewards of merit, the wreath of the victor, were arboraceous; in later periods, the acanthus, the ivy, the lotus, the vine, the palm, and the oak, flourished under the chisel, or beneath the loom of the artist; and in modern days, the vegetable world affords the almost exclusive decorations of ingenuity and art."

3. Entrance to the Village of Virex, in Italy—a pleasing picture of what may be termed an architectural village; for some of the dwellings almost approach to palaces, and others have a conventual character, which harmonizes with the sublime beauties of nature which rise around them.

4. Interior of St. Saveur, in Normandy. As an architectural picture we are not disposed to rate this so highly as the two preceding.

The alternations of light and shade are admirably managed in all of them, among which a flood of light streaming through one of the cathedral windows will be much admired. The size of each picture is 70 feet by 50—and the four may be seen for one shilling!

Below stairs, the fine group from Reubens's Descent from the Cross, and Albert Durer's Carvings of the Life of the Virgin Mary, still continue open.

Another exhibition, Trepado, or Cut-Paper Work, to use a vulgar phrase, "cut out" all the work of the kind we have ever seen. We have a sister very ingenious in these matters; but her productions, compared with the cuttings of the Oxford-street Bazaar, are as John Nash with Michael Angelo. These cuttings are in imitation of Line Engraving, comprising sixteen pictures, cut with scissars, among which are the Lord's Supper—Conversion of St. Paul—The Battle of Alexander—A Portrait of his Majesty George IV., &c. They are almost the counterfeit presentment of pencil-drawings, such as Varley and Brookman and Langdon could not excel. Yet these are cut with scissars! A greater exercise of patience, to say the least of it, we scarcely know. Every one who wishes to cut a figure in the world ought to learn this art; and certain fair cutters may by this means spread even stronger meshes than these paper nets. We mean to see them again, although we have too many cuttings to make for the gratification of our readers to allow us to enter into the Trepado study con amore—and so with this recommendation, we cut the subject. We, however, expect to meet scores of our Easter friends in the Bazaar; and there is no similar establishment in London where so much may be seen for so little money.

The Bazaar has lately been extended for a suite of rooms for the exhibition of Household Furniture, for sale. There are already several handsome specimens—many of them fit for the splendid palaces building in the Regent's Park. If the reader be one of those who "meditate on muffineers and plan pokers," he will enjoy this part of the Bazaar. In all the Parisian bazaars, there is an abundance of meubles and you get accommodated with a newspaper and a chair, as the Street-publishers say, "for the small charge of one penny:" might it not be so here, or is an Englishman obliged to read and drink (not think) at the same time?

The counters of the Bazaar are abundantly stocked with bijouterie and nic-nacs, the Nouveautes de Paris and Spitalfields—Canton in China, and Leatherlane in Holborn—toy-carts for children, and fleecy hosiery for old folks—puffs and pastry, and the last new song—inkstands, taper-lights, pen-wipers, perfumed sealing-wax, French hair-paper, curling-wheels—and all the fair ammunition of love and madness. If you leave your purse at home, or, what is worse, if you have left your money, you know not where, remember Bishop Berkley, and console yourself with the reflection that all these things were made for your enjoyment, and that all around are striving to please you. This will be no trifling source of pleasure—it will fill your head and fill your heart with joy—leave the pockets to grosser minds.

SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS, SUFFOLK-STREET, PALL-MALL, EAST.

By a Correspondent.

The sixth exhibition of this society is now open to the public, and the display of talent fully equals, or, perhaps, excels, that of former seasons. The society, since its commencement, has realized twelve thousand pounds from the sale of the works of British artists, who, thus stimulated by the disposal of their performances, have exerted their utmost ability in contributing specimens of their art to the present exhibition. We can, however, only notice a few of those artists who have been particularly successful; our limits not allowing us to extend justice to all.

The most splendid painting in the