gs to a masculine understanding, and all the fascination which
a feminine mind can bestow.

Still we are free to confess that the Countess has written perhaps
rather too much for the time she has been about it, and thus laid
herself open to an accusation of bookmaking, the prevailing vice of the
present race of authors. The incorrigible and merciless Mr Boas does not
let this pass.

"The question now remains to be asked," says he; "Why did Ida Hahn-Hahn,
upon leaving a country in which she had passed a couple of weeks--a
country of the language of which she confesses herself ignorant, and
with which she was in every respect thoroughly displeased, deem it
incumbent on her forthwith to write a thick book concerning it? The
answer is this: her pretended impulse to authorship is merely feigned,
otherwise she would not have troubled herself any further about such a
wearisome country as Sweden. Through three hundred and fifty pages does
she drag herself, grumbling as she goes; a single day must often fill a
score of pages, for travelling costs money, and the _honorarium_ is not
to be despised. If I thus accuse the Countess of bookmaking, I also feel
that such an accusation should be supported by abundant proof, and such
proof am I ready to give."

Oh fye, Boas! How can you be so ruthless? Besides the impolicy of
exposing the tricks of your trade, all this is very spiteful indeed. You
would almost tempt us, were it worth while, to take up the cudgels in
earnest in defence of the calumniated Countess, and to give you a crack
on the pate, which, as Maga is regularly translated into German for the
benefit and improvement of your countrymen, would entirely finish your
career, whether as poet, tour-writer, or any thing else. But seeing that
your conceits and lucubrations have afforded us one or two good laughs,
and considering, moreover, that you are of the number of those small fry
with which it is almost condescension for us to meddle, we will let you
off, and close this notice of your book, if not with entire approbation,
at least with a moderate meed of praise.

HOUSE-HUNTING IN WALES.

"Change of air! change of air!" Every body was in the same story.
"Medicine is of no use," said the doctor; "a little change of scene will
set all to rights again." I looked in the child's face--she was
certainly very pale. "And how long do you think she should stay away
from home?" "Two or three months will stock her with health fo