"Had not the following anecdote been told us on the authority of a gentleman of high respectability, we should have found some difficulty in believing that so strange a superstition had still influence on the minds of the inhabitants of the West Riding. On the night of Christmas Day our informant was returning to Leeds in a gig from a town a few miles off, and wished to light a cigar. He stopped at a cottage by the wayside, and asked to be allowed a light. 'No,' was the reply, 'thou'lt get no light here to-night.' Somewhat surprised at this surly reply, he drove on for a mile or two, and on arriving at a toll bar, again preferred his request. 'No, sir,' said the gatekeeper, 'I shall let no light go out of my house to-night.' As there was no mending the matter, our friend proceeded to another toll-bar, and a third time requested a light. He was very civilly told he should have a light with pleasure, had it not been Christmas night; but, on that night, to allow a light to be taken out of the house would insure bad luck through the next year. Here, at length, the mystery was solved. This silly superstition was the cause which led to the refusals which so astonished the traveller." On Thursday, March 24th, there was opened to public inspection at the National Gallery the designs for the new Houses of Parliament. Of these one critic wrote-- "Of these designs, some are good--indeed, we may say, very good--many promising, and some so bad that it was ground of wonder that room should be found for them. They certainly remind us of Peter Pindar's description of matrimony, which the caustic satirist describes-- 'Like to Jeremiah's figs, The good are very good, the bad not fit to give to pigs.'" Of these designs four were chosen as the best, Barry's plans being most approved; and again on April 28th they were exhibited publicly at the National Gallery. Eventually Barry's plans were accepted, and to him we owe our beautiful "Palace of Westminster."