feet in length, was carefully preserved for show on the parlor-mantel of the planter who raised it. After tying, the bundles are placed in bulk, and when again "in order" are "prized" or packed into the hogsheads,-no smoothly-pl a ned and iron-hooped casks by the way, but huge pine structures very roughly made. The old machine for prizing was a primitive affair, the upright beam through which ran another at right angles, turning slightly on a pivot, heavily weighted | at one end and used as a lever for compressing the brown mass into the hogsheads. Now, most well to-do planters own a tobaccostraightener and screw-press, inventions which materially lessen the manual labor of preparing the crop for market. Each hogshead is branded with the name of the owner and thus shipped to his commission-merchant, when the hogshead is "broken" by tearing off a stave, thus exposing the strata of the bulk to view. Of late years some planters have been guilty of "nesting," or placing prime leaf around the outer part and an inferior article in the center of the hogshead, and stringent measures were taken a year or two since in the Richmond Tobacco Exchange for the prevention of such rascality. At a tobacco mart in Southside, occurred perhaps the only instance of negro selling since the establishment of the Freedman's Bureau. At every such town is a huge platform scale for weighing wagon and load, deducting the weight of the former from the united weight of both to find the quantity of tobacco offered for sale. A small planter had brought a lot of loose tobacco to market, which, being sold, was weighed in this manner, and for which the purchaser was about to pay, when a bystander quietly remarked-"You forgot to weigh the nigger." An explanation followed, and the tobacco, reweighed, was found short 158 lbs., or the exact weight of the colored driver, who had, unobserved, been standing on the scales behind the cart while the first weighing took place. The same planter has since been arrested as an accomplice of the notorious horse-thief, Lucien Beard. Thirty years or more ago-before the Danville and Southside Railroads were built -the tobacco was principally carried to market on flat-boats, and the refrain to a favorite negro song was: "Oh, I'm gwine down to Town! Then all along the rivers, at every landing, was a tobacco war ehouse, the ruins of some of which may be still seen. Now the only government warehouses are at Richmond, Lynchburg, Petersburg, Danville, and Farmville. With no crop has the Emancipation Act interfered so much as with this, and the old tobacco planters will tell you with a sigh that tobacco no longer yields them the profits it once did the manufacturers are the only people who make fortunes on it nowadays. $12 per hundred is the lowest price which pays for the raising, and few crops average that now. Still every farmer essays its culture, every freedman has his small tobacco patch by his cabin door, and the Indian weed is still the great staple of Eastern Virginia. 156 BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE LOUVRE. WHAT is all this glare and whirl? The Rue de Rivoli, at five o'clock on a summer evening, is one of the most dazzling avenues in Paris. Thousands of carriages whirl past the long, column-guarded arcades in which are closely stowed choicest of little shops, tenanted by most obsequious traders. The low hum from the Place de la Concorde, at one end, and from the vast extent of the street in the direction of the Tuileries and the Louvre, at the other, comes with fine effect to one's ear as he crosses, descending from the Place Vendôme, and goes down the steps into the Tuileries garden. It was only a moment's transition from the crowded thoroughfare to the calm and delicious coolness of the Garden Park, where fountains are playing, breezes are blowing, nurse-maids are tramping with Go children, and music is filling your ears. along the stone-paved walk until you find yourself in the magic circle of trees which encloses the audience listening to the regular evening concert; sit down in a chair; pay two sous to that hideous old woman who collects the seat money; and now, while the birds twitter above your head, and the clarionets and piccolos make pleasing echoes, dream a little of the palace and its gardens. Its gardens have often been called insipid, but, let down, as they are, like a charming oasis, in the midst of the great roadways on which the lusty sun beats with unforgiving fierceness, they have a charm which one can never forget. Not far beyond them is the smoothly-flowing, softly-rippling flood of the Napoleon loved the Tuileries, although he found at St. Cloud the calm and silence which the city palace lacked. He hated and shunned Versailles, having a healthy respect for the old tradition that that capital is fatal to French sovereigns, and he vacillated be tween the Tuileries and St. Cloud as if he "SCRIBNER'S MONTHLY is one of the finest specimens of a useful, entertaining, popular Magazine ever seen in this country or in England.”—N. Y. Journal of Commerce. SCRIBNER'S MONTHLY: AN AMERICAN MAGAZINE FOR AMERICAN READERS. PROSPECTUS FOR 1872-3. THIRD YEAR AND FIFTH VOLUME. This Magazine has now reached the end of its second year and fourth volume; and we invite comparison between its numbers for the past year-as regards pictorial illustrations, literary contents, and editorial departments-with those of any other popular magazine ever issued. With the large circulation already achieved, we are enabled to pledge to the public for the ensuing year an increase in the variety and beauty of its illustrations-already pronounced by the critics of the press "finer than any which have hitherto appeared in any American Monthly"—a more brilliant array of contributors, and a more thorough discussion of the wide range of topics to which the editorial departments are devoted. One of the choice attractions of the new volume will be A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE, ENTITLED “ARTHUR BONNICASTLE,” To be commenced in November and continued through the year. It will be autobiographical in form, and will be exquisitely illustrated by MISS HALLOCK. SCRIBNER'S MONTHLY has acquired the reputation of publishing THE BEST SHORT STORIES of any American Periodical. SAXE HOLM's new story, 'THE ONE-LEGGED DANCERS,” “THE Will appear in an early number, and other stories from the same pen may be expected during the year. MR. BRET HARTE, The best writer of short stories now living, has written for us a brilliant and characteristic story, 66 THE EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN," Which will be illustrated by SHEPPARD. It will run through two numbers of the Magazine, and will appear as soon as the illustrations can be executed. A Series of Portraits of Living American Writers Will appear during the year. Also, a series of entertaining papers by Mr. R. H. STODDARD ABOUT AUTHORS, Their personal characteristics, home-life, families, friends, whims, and ways; and a series of articles by Mr. CLARENCE COOK on Furniture, and the Decoration of American Homes. 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FOR SALE, AND SUBSCRIPTIONS RECEIVED, BY ALL BOOKSELLERS AND NEWSDEALERS. could hardly decide which he loved most. It was no uncommon sight to see the old man walking slowly along the paths of the reserved park, while below him, in the odorous evening, thousands of people listened to the concerts, or flitted in and out among the trees in maddest frolic, or in gentle and am orous conversation. In the morning the great gardens are always crowded with strangers, with brokendown dandies of forgotten courts, and with thousands of children led by gayly-attired serving-maids, while the slouching soldier from the Provinces stands before the great dingy statues with reverential awe. The figures themselves are not remarkable; you shall see Laocoön struggling in the serpent's embrace, but you have often seen the father's suffering more cunningly portrayed; and some of the statues are even below mediocrity. Each side of the garden is flanked by huge walls, and these are surmounted by gratings with gilded tops. The vista from the entrance at the Place de la Concorde is charming. Even now that the old clock-tower of the palace is battered away, and only the blackened front of what was a fine piece of architecture looms up, there is still something imposing in the outlook. Hundreds of queer and eccentric characters have for many years haunted the gardens for hours during the day, and none among them have ever been looked upon with more kindliness than the old man with the faded face and gray hair, who always calls, at early morning, thousands of little birds around him, and From feeds them with the crumbs which he never fails to bring in his capacious pockets. the statues, from the trees, from the fountains, the little winged bipeds hover down upon the old man's shoulders, and a veritable battle for the crumbs ensues. The bare-headed wife of the toiling bourgeois, accompanied by two or three carefully-dressed and sedatelooking children, and followed at a distance by her hard-handed husband, with his bald front and sinewy arms, is seen in every alleyway. On the little benches under the great trees one finds dozens of groups of chattering women who have brought their knitting or their lace-work, and who from time to time refresh themselves with draughts of cool lemonade from the tin can of the old peddler whose shrill voice can be heard as far as the Place Vendôme. An event which should happen in the garden of the Tuileries at noon would be known in the remotest quarter of Paris at one o'clock. It is one of the great gossip centers of this unique capital. Hereabouts stood, once upon a time, a brick-yard, and upon it the mother of Francis the First, the Duchess of Angoulême, built a little château. By and by, under Catherine de Medicis, the château was leveled, and in 1564 the Palace of the Tuileries, named with sublime satire after the antique brick-yard, was begun. Philibert Delorme was the principal architect of the central pavilion and of the contiguous wings. Henri IV. and Louis XIII. built up all the other pavilions, except the northern, which was finished under Louis XIV. Then came the good bourgeois Louis |