these
mountains. They will repay a perusal.

While the prices may not be extravagant enough for Americans, still,
those who have scaled these noble elevations may well account the
prospect as one of the most striking features of a foreign climb.

A SCENE IN THE TROPICS.

This gorgeous painting brings before you all the luxuriance of tropical
vegetation. Magnolias and palm trees wave their heads proudly, while
bananas, oranges, and bread fruit abound in rank profusion. Here the
cane brake stretches away as far as the eye can reach (and to those who
are not near-sighted still farther), recalling those beautiful lines of
the poet:--

"Break, break, break!"

The broad river in the foreground, mountains melting away on the horizon
(that's because they're volcanic), and the sun broiling and sizzling
high up in the heavens, are deliciously blended together. Our artist,
full of perspiration (he can blend better than any man we ever ployed),
has seized upon a moment when all Nature seems to say: ("Steady there,
what makes that canvas wriggle so?")

Notice the warmth of coloring; and see to what a high degree of art the
general effect is carried-about 90 deg. Fahrenheit in the shade. This
picturesque object is an alligator basking in the sun. Our advice to
inexperienced travellers is: "Let him bask!"

These cotton fields, rice plantations, and the colored member of
Congress addressing his constituents on the right, all stamp this scene
as unmistakably Southern.

We will cancel the stamp and move on.

In our next we shall find that our artist has given himself more
latitude, say about eighty degrees North.

WINTER IN SPITSBERGEN.

Behold these regions of eternal ice and snow--miles upon miles of frozen
real estate. There is a great ice monopoly here. All, all is blank;
except the ship over in this corner. She is a prize. This is the place
to buy thermometers; you'll generally find them going very low. The
weather in this region is mostly day and night, but rather irregularly
divided between the two.

You see these people with rough beards and red shirts, looking like New
York firemen? You take one to be MOSE? You are right--they are
Esquimaux. They are a tough, and hardy race. Though not precisely
students, they yet consume the midnight oil--chiefly as a beverage.

This great work is the combined production of thirteen artists; twelve
of them, perishing in the attempt, were handsomely buried at our
expense; a