find the thick-set fingers,
and what the chirognomist calls the "lack of manual repose," of the
great financier. But as his lordship was statesman with a talent for
debate as well as man of commerce, it will not unlikely be found that
the hand presented combines the both temperaments.

[Illustration: PROFESSOR WEEKES' HANDS.]

[Illustration: LORD ASHBURTON'S HAND.]

I have been enabled, through the kindness of Mr. J. T. Tussaud, to
embellish the present collection by an ancient cast of the hand of the
Comte de Lorge, a famous prisoner in the Bastille. This cast was taken,
together with a death mask, after death, by the great-grandmother of the
sculptor, to whom both relics have descended.

The Queen's hands, which appeared in the last issue of this Magazine,
were cast by John Francis, a famous sculptor of the day. Mr. Hamo
Thorneycroft, R.A., writes me to say that "While the moulds were being
made Her Majesty removed all the rings from her fingers _except_ the
wedding ring. This she was most anxious should not come off, and was in
considerable fear lest the moulding process might remove it."

[Illustration: COMTE DE LORGE'S HAND.]

[_The original drawings of the illustrations in this Magazine are always
on view, and on sale, in the Art Gallery at these offices, which is open
to the public without charge._]

[Illustration: ROSITA]

FROM THE FRENCH OF PITRE CHEVALIER.

I.

It was harvest day at a house in the little village of Panola, in
Castile, on the 25th of August, 1838. The great sheaves of corn had been
borne, amidst universal rejoicing, to their resting-place in the
granary. All the village inhabitants had shared in this pleasant task,
and now, following an ancient custom, they had erected a trophy composed
of a few last sheaves of corn, round which the young girls and men began
to dance gaily, to the sound of guitars and castanets.

Within the house, in a room which overlooked this charming scene, were
two men.

The first, seated at a table, was an old man over sixty, but enfeebled
rather by cares than by age. His venerable head, crowned with white
hair, drooped upon his breast with patriarchal dignity. The old man, who
had been a soldier in the Spanish army, was Don Pedro de la Sarga, a
Castilian as noble as he was poor. His companion was his son, Don
Stephano, a young man of twenty, considered the most accomplished man in
Panola. He was handsome; his warm, brown skin, his large, black