by a formal classification. Thus, it has been proposed to establish in the Central Park an Arboretum, a Botanical Garden, and a Zoölogical Garden; but we should be sorry to see anything done that would take away from the character of the Park as a place of recreation. Science and art are excellent things, each in its way, but they are better outside the Park than in it; nor can we think it other than a mistake to propose the building of even the Museum of Art within the boundaries of the Park, considering how small the space for walking and driving is already, and that for the next generation it will be still less than it is for this. The Zoological Garden, it is now decided, is to be placed where it was originally intended to be, in Manhattan Square, on the west side of the Eighth Avenue, between Seventy-seventh and Eighty-first streets. There will be, we suppose, an arrangement made by which the Garden can be entered directly from the Park, either by a subterranean passage or by a suspension bridge: this latter is the mode we should ourselves prefer. In this Square, with its well contrived buildings and sunken areas, the larger animals, the flesh-eaters and those unhandy to have about, such as the elephants and rhinoceroses, and all, of whatever size or temperament, that need to be shut up,-may find a home; but there are others that we hope may be allowed to walk about in the open Park with their human analogues. We should like to see the camels and the giraffes taking their ease in an independent way on the broad west-side lawns; for these creatures need to be seen in perspective, to be fairly taken in. Few of us have ever seen them except in elevation. One would find a pleasant relief from the monotony of feeding swans and sparrows, if he could stand on the upper platform of the terrace or on the Belvedere tower, and put cocoa-nut cakes or roundhearts (considered by people in general, we should imagine, to be his native food) into the giraffe's mouth, he standing at ease below. There's a charm in unexpectedness-as everybody will acknowledge who has groped in a dark closet and had his hand scratched by the old cat who thought her new kittens in danger; and a giraffe, or a camel, or a small elephant seen on a Central Park lawn as much at his ease as if at home, would make a more effectual impression than if seen in the common way through the bars of a cage. Our point is, that we think any strictly scientific object should not be pursued within the Park, because that is, or ought to be, a place for play; but that if we can give people VOL. VI.-44

information in a playful way in the Park, it will be a good thing to do. Whatever animals, therefore, can be safely allowed to roam about the Park, either with or without a guard, should be free to do so, not merely for their own sake, but for the sake of the public, who will thus get a much better acquaintance with them than can be done in the Zoological Garden proper. So with trees and flowers. The Arboretum and the Botanical Garden have their valuable uses; but we should prefer to study trees, and shrubs, and flowers growing comfortably scattered about in the Park, and without the consciousness that there were gardeners and men of science watching them. Let the reader smile (or sneer) if he will; we are convinced that there are plants whose kingdom of heaven will never come with observation. They can never reach their full stature nor come to perfect flower or fruit unless they can be left completely to themselves. No pokeberry, nor thistle, nor milkweed, nor greenapple can ever do itself full justice and show all its talents while there are boys, and cows, and jackasses on hand. Nor did anybody ever know what a climbing-rose is, or a wisteria, or a trumpet-creeper, or a grapevine, much less any tame garden or hot-house plant, where that most odious of human inventions, a head-gardener, was to be found. And therefore we think it will be always impossible to find out all about certain plants so long as they are ranged in the formal rows and squares of an orthodox Botanical Garden. To get their true characteristics, they must be let run wild, and grow as they will.

These remarks apply more particularly to our native wild-flowers, which are seldom found under cultivation anywhere, and which rarely do well under cultivation, for no other reason, we believe, than that they need to be left to themselves; and this is what no gardener worthy of the name ever conceded to any plant under heaven. And the Central Park is the only public place we ever heard of where the experiment has been tried, of inducing any wild-flowers to make-believe think themselves at home. One of the first experiments was tried with a pretty variety of prickly-pear-a cactus that grows on the rocks all over the island wherever there are rocks left, and is found in profusion on the western shore of the Hudson River, along Weehawken Heights, and on the Palisades. It is never very large, and out of its flat rosettes its pale-yellow flowers shine with a mild tropical light among the alien ferns and mosses. Having been found on the rocks in

the Park when it was first laid out, they were allowed the privilege of squatters, and have repaid the consideration shown them by blooming steadily every season. Other wildings, the dog-torch violet, the blood-root, the blue violet, the marsh-marigold, the bulrush, and the red and yellow field-lilies, -have established themselves in by-places of the Park, and will no doubt come to forget in time that they ever lived anywhere else. As for dandelions, they didn't need asking, but came on with a rush the very first Spring, and have kept on coming in with a rush ever since. We are glad there seems to be no rule against children picking them, and we wish there were more flowers of other kinds that could be made free with by the small citizens.

There is hardly anything that children, especially the children of the poor-the waifs and ragamuffins of our great cities-covet more than flowers. The gardener of one of our city squares reported to his superintendent that the children of his neighborhood had stolen ten thousand plants from his beds while his back was turned, during the short time he had been in charge. Every humane person who loves flowers and children will rejoice to read such a statement as this, and will hope it is not exaggerated by the known morbid dislike of head-gardeners to women and children, especially if they are poor. We know a benevolent lady who came to town from the country, and being of a horticultural turn and used to having her front yard filled with plants at home, she naturally wished to have them in her front yard in the city. Accordingly, she began with an ivy which had grown under her fostering care from two small leaves to a foot-high nursling, and which she set out in a place where there was every inducement for it to get up in the world. This transplanting was done, according to rule, in the evening, and the next morning, on carrying water to it-the recipe for ivy is, keep the root soaked in water-she found that it had disappeared, and was no doubt cheering some lonely garret in the neighboring avenue. When she bewailed her loss to friendly neighbors, they shook their heads sorrowfully, and broke into a unanimity of identical experiences. From what they reported our rural friend was persuaded that the avenue in question, which she had always figured to herself as bare and squalid, must be clothed in verdure from end to end; and so it ought to be if half of what is stolen survives its rough transplanting. In many of the houses in my friend's neighborhood, the

wisterias and ivies planted in the front yard are chained and padlocked to the trellises as the door-mats are, while one of her acquaintances keeps a small but spunky skye slightly secured to the flower-stand that ornaments her front balcony.

These facts demonstrate the innate love there is in the human heart for flowers, especially if raised and paid for by other people; and it is a thousand pities that the Central Park couldn't do more than it does to gratify the longing. Fortunately, dandelions are cheap, and so are lilacs, syringas, and snowballs. These might be planted in thickets, and the youngsters be supplied with flowers in rations by policemen detailed for the purpose. Of course, the children would rather steal them, but we are afraid we haven't yet reached the point where they can be allowed to do that. Stealing-days might, however, be set apart, or the policemen detailed on set occasions for other work, which would leave the coast clear. As it is, hard measure is dealt out to the lovers of flowers. Not only are they forbidden to pick any in the Park, they are not allowed to bring any in. We saw the other day a pretty company of clean, smartlydressed children come out of a horse-car at the Park terminus and form a sort of procession, headed by a small boy, who bore aloft a light pole wreathed with roses, and with a bunch of ribbons and streamers at the top. With what infantine confidence they marched up to the gate; and with what dampened looks they turned away, repulsed gently but firmly by the guardian, in obedience to the rules! No doubt this is necessary, but we wish it were not, and indeed there might be regions in the Park where some relenting could be shown.

Suppose some one were to turn this love of flowers to account, as has been done in parts of London, where young plants are given to any children who will compete for a prize, to be awarded to whoever brings in his plant in finest condition at the end of the growing season? This would be a good use to put the surplus slips and cuttings of the Park to, and there might be a charming autumn festival contrived when the prize-day came around. Certain parts of London are squalid places

perhaps the squalidest man ever sees; but there is often a ray of sunshine in this awful gloom, in the shape of flowers,—and English flowers are the brightest, we almost believe, in the world,-cultivated in window-boxes, in windows that seem as if no sun ever entered them, nor any sunlit face ever looked out of them.

A BOOK has been printed recently in Constantinople, in Turkish, which, more than most books in that language, is worthy the attention of Occidentals. The book is a book of Turkish Proverbs, collected by Ahmed Vefik Effendi, recently the Turkish Minister of Public Instruction, a well-known literary gentleman and author, well versed not only in Oriental, but also in European languages and literature. A somewhat careful examination of these rather more than three thousand proverbs has convinced the writer that the reading public of America will be likely to be interested in seeing some selections from this book, which are introduced with these general remarks.

A large proportion of the book, probably one-third, consists of common sayings, repeated in forms slightly varying from each other, which hardly rise to the dignity of the proverb. Of these but very few examples are given.

Another large proportion of the proverbs are positively untranslatable into any form of English which would retain the point of the proverb at all. Unquestionably many of the very best are to be found in this class. A few have been given with the original, in English letters, but only those who know the Turkish language can fully appreciate their beauty.

The language of these proverbs is the simplest and clearest possible, strikingly unlike that of Turkish literature generally.

The great majority of these proverbs have no relation to Islam, the faith of the Turks, and indeed some of them seem opposed to certain notions of their religion, having their basis in moral truths more lasting and of stronger practical influence than the tenets of any merely human religion.

The writer leaves the reader as free as himself to form conjectures as to the origin of proverbs which are identical with those in use among us, and especially with some found in the Bible. In cases where a translation is given in the exact words of a Scripture text or one of our own proverbs, it is to be taken as a faithful translation of the Turkish proverb; sometimes it is indeed the one literal translation.

The writer cannot lose this opportunity of expressing the wish that some competent person would undertake the task of collecting the proverbs in our English speech. It is believed that such a task would furnish a

most pleasant recreation, and would prove not only interesting to curious readers, but really profitable to all readers. Certainly proverbs contain more of shrewd sense and practical wisdom than almost any other class of writing. A high authority has said that the result of years of philosophical discussion has often been simply a better definition of the subject-matter discussed. The proverb often gives what is better than such a result. It is the philosophy of men, not that of the schools. Of course, among these Turkish proverbs, one is occasionally found that we would not accept; but the great majority of those given below, and of all in the book from which they are taken, are the utterance, not of the wisdom of one race, but of that which men everywhere may alike accept. The proverbs that have been selected and translated will be given under three divisions of unequal length. From the nature of the case but very few are given under the second head:

I. Turkish Proverbs which are one with existing` English Proverbs.

1. He shuts the stable after the horse is stolen.

2. For a man, a word is sufficient. "Verbum sat," etc., not identical.

3.

4.

Let him accept our little for much. "Accept the will for the deed."

Just as the twig is bent the tree inclines (literally).

5. Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth. 6. He is a walking library.

7. Like a dog with a burnt foot-"sore head."

8. Think first and speak afterwards.

9.

There is nothing new under the sun.

10. Two ears to one tongue, therefore hear twice as much as you speak.

11. No grass grows under his feet.

12. A true friend (or also old friend) is known in the day of adversity.

13. Goes in at one ear and out at the other.
14. Plenty of money, but few brains.
15. Like to his like.

16. Don't descend into a well with a rotten rope.
17. Blessing goes with labor.

18. He who sows here shall reap hereafter. 19. Don't promise what you cannot perform. 20. Health is better than wealth.

21. Don't think to-day of what you are to eat tomorrow,-cf. Matt. vi. 31-34.

22. Habit becomes a nature to a man, 23. The excuse is worse than the fault. 24. He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord (literally).

25. We die as we live.

26. One flower does not make a summer. 27. He sees the mote in other people's eyes, not the

beam in his own eye,

28. Whatsoever a man soweth that shall be also reap.

29. Time is money. (The Turkish is vakut nakud.) 30. A dog knows his own master.

31. Out of sight, out of mind.

32. It is better to give than to receive. 33. Ex nihilo nihil fit. (Literally.) 34. A rolling stone gathers no moss.

II. Illustrations of Turkish Proverbs that have their point and their beauty in the Turkish words. The e and i are French e and i.

35. Allah imhal eder, ihmal etmez. (A translation must be weak compared with the striking original) "God postpones, he does not overlook."

36. Sen agha, ben agha,-boo ineghi kim sagha! 'You a gentleman! I a gentleman! who then will milk the cow?" 37. Sev seni seveni, yer ile yeksan isede; sevme seni sevmeyeni, aleme sultan isede. "Love one who loves you, though he be utterly bankrupt; love not the one who loves you not, though he be the world's king." (Constancy of friendship, not, as might appear, a bad version of the "golden rule.") 38. Hem okoodook, hem okoodook, hem oonootdook. "We have both learned it and taught it and forgotten it." 39. Kooroo cheshmede abdest almush; ihmal Pashada namaz kulmush. (This is given as a specially good pun for the two or three readers, perchance, who know Turkish.) "He performed his ablution at Dry fountain' (name of a village on the Bosphorus) and said his prayers at Neglect Pasha"" ( another name of place): . ., he utterly neglects all his religious duties.

40. Beer emin iki yemindenen evla. "One honest word better than two oaths."

III. Miscellaneous Turkish Proverbs. 41. A horse is his who mounts it, a sword his who girds it on, a bridge his who passes it.

42. The horse and mule kick each other: between them the donkey dies.

Sweetmeats have been carried to the priest's house! Well, what is that to you?

43. He sees a glow-worm and thinks it a conflagration.

man.

86.

44. The hungry man is not satisfied by looking in the full man's face.

You see a man: what do you know of what is in his heart?

45. For a man, what need words of blame? a look is enough.

46. A man is one who is faithful to his word. 47. A man becomes learned by asking questions. 48. The hind-wheel of a carriage will pass where the fore-wheel has passed.

49. He gives grass to the lion, meat to the horse. 50. He who gives little, gives from his heart; he who gives much, from his wealth.

51. The lining is more costly than the original material. (Lit., "The face.")

52. The eye of the master is the horse's grooming. 53. That man is to be feared who fears not God. 54. The vein of shame in his forehead has burst. 55. Would that his mother had given birth to a stone instead.

56. One may not boast of father and mother.

57. Talking with him is like playing with a snappish dog. (Lit., "a biter.")

58. A distinguished house! his father a radish, his mother a turnip.

59. His mother an onion, his father garlic, himself

comes out conserve of roses.

60. You must stretch out your feet according to the size of your coverlet.