rope ladder. Plymouth
Breakwater is a vast heap of stones built across the entrance of the
Sound, so as to leave a passage for ships at each end, but preventing
the heavy waves of the Atlantic Ocean from dashing into the harbour.
It has cost more than a million of pounds in money.

Here we have a beautiful writing table for ladies, which is one of the
most splendid things in the Exhibition, and which came from that land
of ingenuity and industry, Switzerland. It is made of two kinds of
wood, white and red, the Swiss national colours; and is cleverly
managed by machinery, so that by merely pressing a spring, the whole
contents of the desk is laid before the spectator, while, at the same
time, a stand for writing on, and a seat, are produced. It is covered
with figures of men and animals, and with ornaments most exquisitely
carved; and it is a writing table which the greatest lady in England
might use.

Along the centre of the aisle, or chief walk, are arranged colossal
statues, pillars of marble, beautiful fountains, magnificent feathers,
crystals of alum, crystals of spermaceti oil, specimens of silk
manufactures, from Spitalfields; and fine cutlery, from Sheffield.
There is also an immense dome of iron and glass, forty feet high
which looks very astonishing; and a curious Russian chain bridge,
which is very ingeniously made. Besides these, we have a gigantic
telescope, which attracts a great deal of attention from the crowd of
people who are walking down the aisle.

In the nave there are several beautiful pieces of sculpture. One is a
colossal group, representing St. Michael conquering Satan; another is
a figure of the celebrated warrior, Godfrey of Bouillon, mounted on
horseback; and a third, is an Amazon, who is just about to hurl her
javelin at a ferocious tiger, who has fastened on the neck and
shoulders of her frightened horse. Here is also a figure of Mazeppa on
the wild horse, which is extremely well made, and, perhaps, reminds
those of my little friends who have seen the play of "Mazeppa" at
Astley's Amphitheatre, of the scenes where poor Mazeppa was carried
along on the terrible horse's back, through brambles, thorns, and
crashing boughs. But what have we here? A grim-looking growling bronze
lion, from Bavaria, who glares at us as if he would be only too glad
to eat us up if he were alive, and does not seem at all the kind of
beast one would like to shake hands, or rather paws, with.

We have a charming r