Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 129.djvu/263

 signature, having apparently been mistaken for Baron.

In Suvorof's postscript, the phrase, "Palerme n'est pas Cithère," is evidently an allusion to Nelson's liaison with Lady Hamilton, who was then with him at Palermo. The last sentence is one of those apocalyptic fragmentary sayings of Suvorof, the sense of which it is difficult to ascertain. The letter of Nelson, which has lost its envelope, is written in a very original but plain and even script, much better than could have been expected from a man obliged to use his left hand. Whether Nelson felt offended at the reference to Lady Hamilton, or repented of the sudden whim which led to his letter, the correspondence was never continued; indeed, Suvorof died in the following May.

One word about spelling. Russian names, when translated into a foreign language, should always be written as they are pronounced, and then they will be pronounced correctly, and the fewer letters the better. Suvorof (which has the accent on the first o) was made by the Germans into Suwarrow, and I have seen it written so in English. Indeed, he himself, like many other Russians, used the German w instead of the French v. Author:E. Schuyler.

 

  — Why our native marbles should so long have been neglected by architects is one of the mysteries of fashion. They were known — that of Ipplepen, in South Devon, indeed, was prized — more than two hundred and fifty years ago, but in most cases they were till the other day scarcely used at all for building-purposes. The shelly limestone of Purbeck (far inferior as "marble" to many of the Devonshire kinds) is almost the only exception. It was, we all know, much valued by the mediæval church-builders. The black marble of Bakewell has always found a market. Alabaster, too, which occurs in the new red sandstone, had its day; Burton-on-Trent was famous for it, and the taste for "confectionery work" in monuments kept alive the demand for it all through the Stuart period. But, in general, British marbles have been chiefly worked into knickknacks for tourists, who, in Derbyshire, like to have a letter-weight of "duke's red," or an inkstand inlaid with "all sorts," and who in Devonshire must, of course, carry off a polished fragment of the breakwater. Till lately the ambition of our marble-workers hardly soared above chimney-pieces. Here and there may be found a memorial church into which nothing but English marble enters; but, on the other hand, you may readily find a reredos, just put