Into whatever country we follow the footsteps of the numerous and motley family of the Puppets, we find that, however exotic their habits may be on their first arrival in the land, they speedily become a reflex of the peculiar genius, tastes, and characteristics of its people. Thus in Italy, the land of song and dance, of strict theatrical censors, and despotic governments, we find the _burattini_ dealing in sharp but polished jests at the expense of their rulers, excelling in the ballet, and performing Rossini’s operas, without suppressions or curtailment, with an orchestra of five or six instruments and singers behind the scenes. The Spanish _titere_ couches his lance and rides forth to meet the Moor and rescue captive maidens, marches with Cortes to the conquest of Montezuma’s capital, or enacts, with more or less decorum, a moving incident from Holy Writ. In the _Jokken_ and _Puppen_ of Germany we recognise the metaphysical and fantastical tendencies of that country, its broad and rather heavy humour, its quaint superstitions, domestic sprites, and enchanted bullets. And in France, where puppet-shows were early cherished, and encouraged by the aristocracy as well as by the people, we need not wonder to find them elegant, witty, and frivolous—modelling themselves, in fact, upon their patrons. M. Magnin dwells long upon the puppets of his native land, which possess, however, less character and strongly marked originality than those of some of the other countries he discourses of. It is here he first traces the etymology of the word _marionette_—unmistakably French, although it has been of late years adopted in Germany and England. He considers it to be one of the numerous affectionate diminutives of the name of Marie, which crept into the French language in its infancy, and which soon came to be applied to those little images of the Virgin that were exhibited, gaily dressed and tinsel bedecked, to the adoration of the devout. In a pastoral poem of the 13th century, he finds the pretty name of Marionette applied by her lover to a young girl called Marion. “Several streets of old Paris, in which were sold or exposed images of the Virgin and saints, were called, some _Rues des Marmouzets_ (there are still two streets of this name in Paris), others _Rues des Mariettes_, and somewhat later, _Rues des Marionettes_. As irony makes its way everywhere, the amiable or religious sense of the words _Marotte_, _Mariotte_, and _Marionette_, was soon exchanged for a jesting and profane one. In the 15th century there was sung, in the streets and taverns, an unchaste ditty called the _Chant Marionnette_. The bauble of a licensed fool was called, and is still called, _marotte_; ‘by reason,’ says Ménage, ‘of the head of a marionette—that is to say, of a little girl’—which surmounts it; and at last mountebanks irreverently called their wooden actors and actresses _marmouzets_ and _mariottes_. At the