them insert good articles, give the editors of the were (as they were sure to be) broken or Debats and the Publiciste' warning, that nullified by events. All was delusion, nought the time is not far off when, finding them no was truth. In this respect (as M. Lanfrey longer useful, I shall suppress them with all the observes) he would be disadvantageously others, and keep but one. that I will contrasted with Frederic, who, coolly ananever permit newspapers to say or do anything lysing the motives of his own policy, attricontrary to my interests: that they may write buted it to ambition, interest, and the some little articles in which they may infuse a little venom, but that some fine morning their mouths will be closed." desire of being talked about. Nor do the last days of the Exile of St. Helena, even in the luminous pages of M. Thiers, present It subsequently appears that the reason anything equal to the "sublime quarter of why they were to be allowed to infuse a little an hour" of the dying Augustus, when he venom was, that in case foreign rulers smilingly asked his friends whether he had should complain of libels, he might say they played the drama of life well. Bonaparte were beyond his control. Three other had utterly lost (if he ever possessed) the journals are warned that they will appear faculty of self-examination. Nothing, he no more "unless the proprietors provide persistently maintained, that he had ever writers and editors of morality and patriot-thought or done was wrong in motive or in ism superior to all corruption." "To M. Fouche. "Oct. 4, 1805. act. If his life was to live over again, he would live (with rare exception) as he had lived it. He should appear (he_boasted) "It strikes me that the journals do not ani- before his Maker without a fear. He passed mate the public spirit enough. Our journals most of his time in putting the best face on are read everywhere, particularly in Hungary. the inculpated passages of his reign, in falsiMake them write articles telling the Germans fying history, in draping his own figure for and Hungarians how they are the dupes of Eng- posterity. He was wrapt up in his fame, lish intrigues: that the Emperor of Germany sells the blood of his subjects for gold. The spirit of the journals must be directed in this sense to attack England in her fashions, her usages, her literature, her constitution." like the beautiful Lady Coventry in her beauty; who took to her bed when she found it going, and died with a lookingglass in her hand. Plain truth to him was like woollen to Pope's coquette: In November, 1806, he writes from Ber-" lin to order a continuation of Millot's " ·Elements of French History" in a proper spirit, and directly afterwards comes a letter to Cambacères : "If the army strives to do honour to the nation as much as possible, it must be owned that the men of letters do all they can to dishonour it. I read yesterday the bad verses sung at the opera. Why do you suffer them to sing impromptus at the opera? This is only proper at the Vaudeville. People complain that we have no literature: this is the fault of the Minister of the Interior." This is quite in the tone of Mummius at Corinth. The fact is his head was completely turned after Austerlitz, "Assumes the god, And seems to shake the spheres." For "Betty," read Las Casas or Montholon, and the parallel is complete. In April, 1806, he wrote to Prince Eugene: "I am not in the habit of looking for my political opinion in the advice of others, and my people of Italy who know me ought not to forget I have more knowledge of affairs in my little finger than they in all their heads put together; and when at Paris, where there is more enlightenment than in Italy, people are silent and do homage to the opinion of a man who has proved that he saw farther and better than others, I The interviews at Tilsit shew to what extent the balance of his mind had been de-am astonished that they have not the same condescension in Italy." stroyed by habitual falsehood, by the absence of any fixed standard of right and wrong, and the blind confidence engendered by success. He was throughout deceiving himself instead of Alexander, who reaped all the substantial benefits of the treaty, and gave nothing in return but promises, which Fatuity had reached its acme when he could delude himself into the belief that the servile obedience he commanded was the willing tribute to his sagacity. The effect of this over-weening self-sufficiency, combined with his astounding energy and ac tivity, was to allow no independent field of was: "I cannot be everywhere!" another action or development to any high order of astounding instance of fatuity. The entire talent or capacity, civil or military. Zeal, responsibility was flung upon the unhappy readiness, bravery, with intelligence enough admiral-who had gallantly done his duty to obey orders, were the sole qualifications in terms that drove him to suicide. The in request. He demanded unscrupulous morning after the receipt of a despatch from instruments not honest or wise advisers the Minister of Marine he was found life- and woe to the statesman who insinuated less, with six stabs from a knife in the rea caution, the administrator who remon- gion of the heart. The fragment of a letter strated against an oppressive impost, the to his wife ends: "What happiness that I commander who revolted against cruelty, have no child to receive my horrible inheror the diplomatist who hesitated at a lie. itance and be loaded with the weight of my The race of civil functionaries were stunted name. Ah, I was not born for such a lot, I in their growth morally and intellectually, have not sought it; I have been dragged like the rank and file of the army physi- into it in my own despite. Adieu, cally each department of the state was de- adieu." *** pressed to a dead level of mediocrity. The eminent jurists to whom the Completion of the Code was intrusted, would have done far better without his intervention. M. Lanfrey shews that, to give him the credit of having planned or initiated this work, is altogether a mistake; and that his administrative reforms were marked neither by originality nor stability. Military genius was never allowed fair play at any epoch of his career. The most promising generals the possible competitors for fame- - were treated like Massena and Moreau,— “And all thy budding honours on thy crest I'll crop to make a garland for my head." Bonaparte's invariable practice was to concentrate all his best troops in the army which he commanded in person, and to send his generals on expeditions for which their resources were notoriously inadequate. If a movement or manœuvre ordered by him failed, he as invariably denied the order, or asserted that it was not executed in the proper spirit or as he intended it. Thus the disaster at Kulm was imputed to Vandamme, and the collapse at Waterloo to Ney and Grouchy. Knowing literally nothing of naval matters, foolishly imagining that the tactics for fleets and armies were the same, he compelled Villeneuve to put to sea and encounter certain destruction at Trafalgar. When the admiral a man of proved skill and courage-pointed out the inevitable results of leaving Cadiz, his pitiless master writes, "Villeneuve is a wretch who should be ignominiously dismissed. Without combinnation, without courage, without public spirit, he would sacrifice everything provided he could save his skin. Let my squadron set sail: let nothing stop it! it is my will that my squadron does not remain at Cadiz." It left Cadiz accordingly, and within fifteen days it was no more. His first exclamation on hearing the event Such things make the blood boil, and they abound in the annals of this crowned scoundrel scélérat couronné) as M. Lanfrey, hurried away by just indignation, designates him. How many broken hearts, how many desolated homes, how many blighted careers, how many ruined reputations, have gone to make this man the world's wonder! What torrents of blood and tears have been shed to float his name on the flood-tide of immortality, "Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes." But that one virtue was military genius, and because it brought military grandeur to the French, they were, and are, proud of him, nay, proud of the laurelled and gilded chains he rivetted on them, though the laurels have faded and the gilding is rubbed off. An English traveller, stopping at a French hotel before the Revolution, came upon a Frenchman mercilessly horsewhipping his valet in the corridor, and, after rescuing the man, told him that he should take legal proceedings for the assault. He drew himself up and replied: “I would have you know, sir, that my master is too great a man for that. He could have a lettre-de-cachet for the asking." "Confound the fellow," exclaimed the traveller, "he was proud of having a master who could treat him like a dog.' Had not the collective nation something of the same feeling? Were they not proud of a master who could treat them like dogs, who could make them crouch at his feet when he was not hounding them on their prey? Do they not occasionally cast a longing lingering look behind at the dearly-bought grandeur that has passed away? There are signs that he who runs may read. Their recently revived call for free institutions is owing far less to the love of liberty than to the loss of military prestige. Personal government, rudely shaken by the Mexican expedition, received its death blow at Sadowa, which threw Magenta and Solferino into the shade. France is kept awake by thinking of the trophies of Prussia, and cannot rest under the thought that she is no longer indisputably the first military nation in the world. If the continent is to be again turned into one huge battle field, it will be to satisfy this fantastic point of honour. By way of striking a congenial chord, the founder of the Second Empire, whose head is never turned like his uncle's, wrote thus: "Palace of the Tuileries, April 12, 1869. "MONSIEUR LE MINISTRE, On the 15th of August next a hundred years will have elapsed since the Emperor Napoleon was born. During that long period many ruins have been accumulated, but the grand figure of Napoleon has remained upstanding. It is that which still guides and protects us it is that which, out of nothing, has made me what I am. To celebrate the centenary date of the birth of the man who called France the great nation, because he had developed in her those manly virtues which found empires, is for me a sacred duty, in which the entire country will desire to join. *** 66 "My desire is that from the 15th of August next every soldier of the Republic and of the First Empire should receive an annual pension of 250 francs. "To awaken grand historical recollections is to encourage faith in the future; and to do hon "If plagues or earthquakes break not Heaven's design, Why then a Borgia, or a Catiline?" If we recognize the hand of Providence in these scourges of our race, are we also bound to praise, honour, and worship them? To do so would be to imitate the barbarians who select for their fondest adoration the fetish or idol they think most capable of working evil. This tendency of the human mind, when unaided by revelation, to form for itself malevolent and maleficent deities to be propitiated by blood and pain, has led a very eminent writer and thinker to contend that natural religion has done more harm than good, has proved less a blessing than a curse. Without going the whole way along with him in his argument, we deem it quite conclusive against that popular faith or superstition, which erects a temple to imperialism and places the grand figure " of Napoleon on the shrine. 66 short dresses established themselves. Now that they are again fixed for walking costume, and the only question is as to the height they should be from the ground, we wish to bring forward the opinion of the famous old Scotch poet, Sir David Lyndesay of the Mont, Knight, Lyon King of Arms, that four inches is the proper measure to be observed on this important question: LONG GOWNS AND SHORT.- In early Eng-not until Elizabeth's time, in England, that land the long gowns had a long reign, for Chaucer inveighed against them in his Parson's Tale, about 1390 A.D.: "The superfluitie in lengthe of the forsaide gownes, traylinge in the donge and in the myre, on hors and eek on foot, that al thikle [that] traylyng is verraily (as in effect) wasted, consumed, thredbare, and rotyn with donge, rather than it is geven to the pore, to gret damage of the forsaide pore folk." Sir David Lyndesay, the great satirist, found long gowns still in vogue in his day, say 1530-50 A.D, and denounced them with his well-known vigour and plainness of speech, which latter is not all quotable here. He writes his poem against Syde Taillis, or long skirts, to his king, James the Fifth, and asks him to issue his Royal Proclamation against those To se, I think ane plesand sicht, Yit, quhen thay trauell throw the townis, MR. AND MRS. HOWITT are about to leave England for a year in Switzerland and Italy. Mr. Howitt is engaged on a volume of Quaker History and Biography. CHAPTER X. AT CROSS-PURPOSES. MISS VERSCHOYLE did not make her appearance in the breakfast-room next morning until nearly ten o'clock. Most of the party had already left, and the remainder were about to follow their example. Mr. Ford was still sitting at the table, in order, as it seemed, to converse with his newly-arrived guest, who had only just commenced breakfast. As Audrey entered the room, Mr. Ford advanced to meet her, and after the usual salutations, led her to the table, saying, "Miss Verschoyle, you must allow me to introduce Mr. Dynecourt to you, a gentleman to whom I feel very grateful for giving me the pleasure of his company for a short time." Good Richard Ford uttered these words nervously, fearing that his speech might not convey so much honour as he wished it to do. Gladly would he have sunk into temporary insignificance, if Mr. Dynecourt would have consented to consider that he was still master in his old home. Geoffrey Dynecourt had shrunk from paying this visit; but his voluntary banishment had so visibly pained the new owner, that he determined, in gratitude for the kindness and consideration Mr. Ford had shown him, to overcome this feeling. It was a trial to go as guest where he had lived as master, but it was only one of many, and he began to take rather a pride in conquering his feelings, and forgetting that he had ever been anything but what he now was- Geoffrey Dynecourt, barrister of the Inner Temple. Miss Verschoyle acknowledged the pleasure it gave her to meet Mr. Dynecourt, who rose, bowed, and gave her a chair. Then as both looked up to take a closer inspection of each other, their eyes met, and Audrey knew that it was he who had stood listening to her while singing. "I am fortunate," she said, "in finding a companion, for generally at breakfast I have the full benefit of my own society." "Why," replied Mr. Dynecourt, "do you so dislike early rising?" "Oh! I detest it; the family morning meal, when all are assembled at eight or nine o'clock, is a remnant of barbarism, invented doubtless to promote and keep alive discord. Who could feel amiable at that hour?" "Do you really think, Miss Verschoyle," asked Mr. Dynecourt, "that ladies set so much value on flattery or compliments? 66 Speaking from what I hear most people say, I should most certainly say no; speaking from personal experience, most decidedly yes. I delight in a compliment, and can comfortably digest a very tolerable quantity of wholesome flattery. I often smile, as you are doing now, at this weakness, but it is our nature to,' and we cannot help feeling very kindly towards a man who delicately shows us our superiority. But of course it must be managed skilfully. When it is so, I may know quite well that it is not true; yet I like to hear it, and in a way believe it." Mr. Dynecourt looked at her steadily. Ah!" she said, "I know you are pitymy weakness." 66 No indeed, I was thinking what an unusual amount of truthfulness you have." "Are you trying my powers of credulity?" she asked, somewhat scornfully, "because you have already succeeded in overstepping the boundary, and stumbled on a piece of flattery which I cannot swallow." 66 Have I?" he answered; it was quite unintentional. I never pay compliments, that is not my forte." At this point Miss Bingham came into the room, saying that they had decided upon a charming plan. They were to ramble through the Abbey-Woods, taking luncheon with them for the " Abbot's Rest," then they would return by "The Dame's Farm,' get some tea there, and drive back again by dinner-time. "That will be charming," exclaimed Audrey, turning to Mr. Dynecourt. 66 Yes," he said, "I think you have been happy in your arrangements." Miss Bingham hastened off to enter more fully into an account of what was to be done; Audrey and Mr. Dynecourt seated themselves on the terrace, and carried on an animated conversation, until Marshall came from Lady Laura, to say that she wished to speak to Miss Verschoyle. Audrey obeyed the summons, deciding "Well, I don't know," said Mr. Dyne- that she would give herself a treat that day, court, laughing, "I was up at six this morn- and devote some portion of her company to ing, and I felt quite as fond of mankind Mr. Dynecourt. "I fancy I shall like him," then as I do now." she thought, or else I shall dislike him, "Oh! but not of womankind," put in Mr. | for he is one of those people one must have 66 66 mean decided opinions about; and mine are, as "Well, really, he has something Vandykeish about him," returned Miss Verschoyle. "I suppose it is that short pointed brown beard which gives the expression; but I think him very good-looking, and I am not sure that I shall not end by calling him very handsome." "I have made up my mind to wear the blue." Now, under ordinary circumstances this would have been a declaration of war in words, which would have raged sharply, until Audrey had given in, and conceded to her mother's wishes; but just now Lady Laura was wonderfully yielding and amiable towards her daughter. So she told Marshall to put away the refused dress carefully, and left her daughter under the maid's hands. Miss Verschoyle desired that her hair might be rearranged after a fashion she considered particularly becoming. Altogether she took such an interest You don't mean it, Miss Audrey; in her appearance, that Marshall felt quite though I must say you have a very peculiar certain that her mistress had something taste. You always thought that Adam"fresh in her head." When her toilette Gregor was good-looking -a poor woebe- was finished, and Audrey went into her gone fellow. Everybody to their liking, mother's room for inspection, Lady Laura of course, but give me a nice fresh colour, exclaimed, with good curly hair and whiskers, and eyes like sloes, and anybody may have the peaky-faced, yellow-haired gentlemen for me. "What! are you still faithful to that Jack-my-Hearty you met at Plymouth ?" "I'm sure I don't know who you mean, Miss Audrey, but I suppose if I am going to lose my young lady, it's quite time that I was faithful to somebody, and had got somebody to be faithful to me." "Very true, Marshall; but I am not off your hands yet; and you and I are too old stagers to count our chickens before they are hatched.” "Oh! but, miss, it's all secure this time; if you will say yes,' there'll be nobody to gainsay you. I wish I was as sure of being comfortably settled, as I am that before this time next year, I shall see you mistress here." Miss Verschoyle laughed. "And if so," she said, "get your sailor friend to leave off toiling on the sea, and become a tiller of the ground, and we'll find him a sinecure situation. Did you say mamma was in my room ? " "Yes, miss." Audrey entered, and found Lady Laura engaged in pulling out and crimping up the frills and lace attached to the costume which she and Marshall had agreed that Audrey should wear. "I am not going to wear that dress, mamma," she exclaimed, "I shall wear my new blue one." "Why spoil that, dear? You look very "You were quite right, my dear, to decide upon the blue. I never saw you looking better. Charles, love, come and congratulate your sister on her appearance." Captain Verschoyle, who had been sitting with Lady Laura, turned round, and lifting up his eyebrows to evince his astonishment, asked who it was all for. "Who is it for ?" repeated Lady Laura; "really, Charles! 'Well, then, what is it for?" said Captain Verschoyle. For your especial benefit, sir," replied Audrey, with a significant nod as she went out of the room. "Dear girl, how I shall miss her!" said Lady Laura pathetically. "I am sure no disinteredness can equal that of a mother in giving up her children." Then, seeing Marshall had gone, she added, confidentially, "My idea is, that Audrey has determined that the old gentleman shall propose to-day; and a very excellent thought it is, for they could not have a more fitting opportunity." 66 Oh, mother! the idea of her sacrificing herself in this way is hateful to me." "Now, Charles, I beg-I insist — that you do not mention such a thing to Audrey; not that I think my daughter would listen to such an absurd word as sacrifice, in the case of a girl who has not a penny marrying a man with £30,000 pounds a year." "Come, mother, don't forget you were young yourself," answered her son. 66 "Yes, young and foolish, Charles. Your dear father was a charming man, and I am |