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thicken one another, she heard the bell at the gate. She felt as though she would have been glad that it rang on until daylight; but it ceased, and the circles of its last sound spread out fainter and wider in the air, and all was dead again.

She waited yet some quarter of an hour, as she judged. Then she arose, put on a loose robe, and went out of her room in the dark, and up the staircase to her brother's room His door being shut, she softly opened it and spoke to him, approaching his bed with a noiseless step.

She kneeled down beside it, passed her arm over his neck, and drew his face to hers. She knew that he only feigned to be asleep, but she said nothing to him.

He started by and by, as if he were just then awakened, and asked who that was, and what was the matter?

"Tom, have you anything to tell me? If ever you loved me in your life, and have anything concealed from every one besides, tell it to me."

"Nor I neither. How could I?"

He was very quick upon her with this retort.
"Ought I to say, after what has happened," said
his sister, standing by the bed-she had gradually
withdrawn herself and risen," that I made that visit?
Should I say so? Must I say so?"

"Good Heavens, Loo," returned her brother, " you
are not in the habit of asking my advice. Say what
you like. If you keep it to yourself, I shall keep it
to myself. If you disclose it, there's an end of it."
It was too dark for either to see the other's face;
but cach seemed very attentive, and to consider be-
fore speaking.

have warned all prudent mariners from that bold rock her Roman nose and the dark and craggy region in its neighborhood, but for the placidity of her manner. Although it was hard to believe that her retiring for the night could be anything but a form, so severely wide awake were those classical eyes of hers, and so impossible did it seem that her rigid nose could yield to any relaxing influence, yet her manner of sitting, smoothing her uncomfortable, not to say, gritty, mittens (they were constructed of a cool fabric like a meat safe), or of rambling to unknown places of destination with her foot in her cotton stirrup, was so perfectly serene, that most "Tom, do you believe the man I gave the money observers would have been constrained to suppose to, is really implicated in this crime?" her a dove, embodied, by some freak of nature, in "I don't know. I don't see why he shouldn't the earthly tabernacle of a bird of the hook-beaked be." order. 44 He seemed to be an honest man. She was a most wonderful woman for prowling "Another person may seem to you dishonest, and about the house. How she got from story to story, yet not be so. was a mystery beyond solution. A lady so decoThere was a pause, for he had hesitated and rous in herself, and so highly connected, was not to

"I don't know what you mean, Loo. You have stopped. been dreaming."

“My dear brother," she laid her head down on his pillow, and her hair flowed over him as if she would hide him from every one but herself; "is there nothing that you have to tell me? Is there nothing you can tell me, if you will. You can tell me nothing that will change me. O Tom, tell me the truth!" "I don't know what you mean, Loo." "As you lie here alone, my dear, in the melancholy night, so you must lie somewhere one night, when even I, if I am living then, shall have left you. As I am here beside you, barefoot, unclothed, undistinguishable in darkness, so must I lie through all the night of my decay, until I am dust. In the name of that time, Tom, tell me the truth now." "What is it you want to know?"

"You may be certain ;" in the energy of her love she took him to her bosom as if he were a child; "that I will not reproach you. You may be certain that I will be compassionate and true to you. You may be certain that I will save you at whatever cost. O Tom, have you nothing to tell me? Whisper very softly. Say only ‘yes,' and I shall understand you!"

"Not a word, Tom?"

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'In short," resumed Tom, as if he had made up his mind, "if you come to that, perhaps I was so far from being altogether in his favor, that I took him outside the door to tell him quietly, that I thought he might consider himself very well off to get such a windfall as he had got from my sister, and that I hoped he would make a good use of it. You remember whether I took him out or not. I say nothing against the man; he may be a very good fellow, for anything I know; I hope he is."

"Was he offended by what you said?"

"

'No, he took it pretty well; he was civil enough.
Where are you, Loo?" He sat up in bed and kissed
her. "Good night, my dear, good night."
"You have nothing more to tell me?"

be suspected of dropping over the bannisters or sliding down them, yet her extraordinary facility of locomotion suggested the wild idea. Another noticeable circumstance in Mrs. Sparsit was, that she was never hurried. She would shoot with consummate velocity from the roof to the hall, yet would be in full possession of her breath and dignity on the moment of her arrival there. Neither was she ever seen by human vision to go at a great pace.

She took very kindly to Mr, Harthouse, and had some pleasant conversation with him soon after her arrival. She made him her stately curtsey in the garden, one morning before breakfast.

“It appears but yesterday, sir," said Mrs. Sparsit, "that I had the honor of receiving you at the Bank, when you were so good as to wish to be made

"No. What should I have? You wonldn't have acquainted with Mr. Bounderby's address." me tell you a lie?"

"I wouldn't have you do that to-night, Tom, of all the nights in your life; many and much happier as I hope they will be."

"Thank you, my dear Loo. I am so tired, that I am sure I wonder I don't say anything, to get to sleep. Go to bed, go to bed.”

Kissing her again, he turned round, drew the She turned her ear to his lips, but he remained coverlet over his head, and lay as still as if that time doggedly silent. had come by which she had adjured him. She stood for some time at the bedside before she slowly moved away. She stopped at the door, looked back when she had opened it, and asked him if he had called her? But he lay still, and she softly closed the door and returned to her room.

"How can I say Yes, or how can I say No, when I don't know what you mean? Loo, you are a brave, kind girl, worthy I begin to think of a better brother But I have nothing more to say. Go to

than I am.

bed, go to bed."
Then the wretched boy looked cautiously up and
"You are tired,” she whispered presently, more in found her gone, crept out of bed, fastened his door,
her usual way.
and threw himself upon his pillow again; tearing his
hair, morosely crying, grudgingly loving her, hate-

"Yes, I am quite tired out."

"You have been so hurried and disturbed to-day. fully but impenitently spurning himself, and no less Have any fresh discoveries been made?"

"Only those you have heard of, from-him." "Tom, have you said to any one that we made a visit to those people, and that we saw those three together?"

hatefully and unprofitably spurning all the good in

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.

"No. Didn't you yourself particularly ask me to MRS. SPARSIT, lying by to recover the tone keep it quiet, when you asked me to go there with of her nerves in Mr. Bounderby's retreat, you?" kept such a sharp look-out, night and day, under "Yes. But I did not know then what was going her Coriolanian eyebrows, that her eyes, like a to happen." couple of lighthouses on an iron-bound coast, might

"An occasion I am sure, not to be forgotten by myself in the course of Ages," said Mr. Harthouse. inclining his head to Mrs. Sparsit with the most indolent of all possible airs.

"We live in a singular world sir," said Mrs. Sparsit.

"I have had the honor, by a coincidence of which I am proud, to have made a remark, similar in effect, though not so epigrammatically expressed."

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'A singular world, I would say. sir," pursued Mrs. Sparsit; after acknowledging the compliment with a drooping of her dark eyebrows, not altogether so mild in its expression as her voice was in its dulcet tones; "as regards the intimacies we form at one time, with individuals we were quite ignorant of, at another. I recall, sir, that on that occasion you went so far as to say you were actually apprehensive of Miss Gradgrind."

"Your memory does me more honor than my insignificance deserves. I availed myself of your obliging hints to my timidity, and it is unnecessary to add that they were perfectly accurate. Mrs. Sparsit's talent for-in fact for anything requiring accuracy—with a combination of strength of mind— and Family-is too habitually developed to admit of

any question." He was almost falling asleep over this compliment; it took him so long to get through, and his mind wandered so much in the course of its

execution.

(To be continued.)

THE SCREW-PROPELLER.tirely out of consideration. The reasons for this we

WE

will explain presently, after premising that, like many
other great discoveries, this was effected accident-
ally.

WE believe that Sir Isambart Brunel was the first to whom the idea of a screw propeller, Mr. Pettitt Smith had long been bent upon the for marine purposes, suggested itself. The notions scheme of attaching the propelling screw to the only of this great engineer, like the notions of most others part of a ship where it admits of attachment without who directed their attention to the subject, had refer- disadvantage, that is, to the "deadwood," as it is ence to an instrument which should really merit, [called, or position of the vessel immediately before from its similarity, the appellation of "screw;" the rudder. Now, to carry out this idea, and reduce whereas the propulsivo screw, as now applied to it to practice, the long screw must necessarily be vessels, has so little resemblance to a real screw, that abridged; accordingly, turn after turn, twist after one is inclined

to wonder that the name was ever applied. The reason will, however, soon become manifest.

Has the reader ever seen a corkscrew with flattened helix' Such an instrument is almost the exact representation of the marine propeller

screw, as first devised; and this being so, the reader will not fail to understand that it must have been a somewhat inconvenient machine to deal with. True, such an instrument might be attached to each of a ship's sides, but in that position it would have been more inconvenient than a paddlewheel, without possessing any advantage to

Nevertheless, the trial-trip was advertised to take place; so come off it must. Steam was accordingly got up, and the little "Archimedes" set in motion by aid of her broken screw. Every person cognisant of the misfortune expected a slow trip, and apologies and explanations were got ready for public dis tribution. Strange to say, however, the little "Achimedes," instead of steaming worse for the accident, actually mended her speed, and thus demonstrated incontrovertibly the superior advantages of a short screw.

Now that these advantages are established, the reason is apparent so appa rent were they, indeed, that one wonders they were not recog nized before. Perhaps we shall best enable our readers to comprehend this reason by directing their attention to a fact almost self-evident-that supposing a propelling screw to turn in a mass of water which should also turn exactly in the same direction as the screw, then the latter would exercise no propulsive effect whatever. Startingwith this idea, it follows, necessarily, that a propulsive screw may be so long as to defeat its own object; inasmuch as the

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[ADJUSTING THE BEARINGS OF A PROPELLING SCREW FOR A LINE-OF BATTLE SHIP.]

first portions, by acting on the water, cause the latter to assume

compensate for the inconvenience. Of course it twist, the inventor cut ruthlessly away, until, we be- ja spiral ovenent equal to the movement of the was always competent to use a short screw instead of lieve only two turns remained out of the long array. corresponding portions of the screw. Here, then, a long one, and with the adoption of a short screw Thus equipped with such a screw, the now celebra- the motion of the screw and the surrounding water many mechanical inconveniences would have disap- ted ship, the " Archimedes," sallied forth to perform being equal, the former has no propulsive force. peared. In point of fact, this is the expedient now a model excursion, by the result of which she hoped But the worst point connected with the use of a followed, the screw being shortened to such an ex- to demonstrate the vast advantages possessed by long, subaqueous screw, remains to be indicated. tent that it is only by courtesy, so to speak, that we the screw over the paddle-wheel as a means of pro- Every part of it not having a propulsive, has, necescan term it a screw at all. For more appropriately pulsion. sarily, on account of friction, a retarding effect; and does it admit of comparison with a two-vaned windHappily, as the sequel proved, but unfortunately, hence is attended with a positive injury to the sailmill, the vanes being made of metal instead of can- as the inventor thought at the time, one turn of the ing, or rather steaming, qualities of the vessel. vas, or, as is sometimes the case with modern wind-propelling screw got broken off by some accidental mills, of venetian blind work. concurson. The inventor, on discovering the acciCuriously enough, it is now proved that a long dent, became sadly grieved; the voyage, he feared, screw, so far from being advantageous as an aque- would be a failure-the little " Archimedes" would ous propeller, is less efficacious than a short screw-prove a slow goer, and a disappointed public would less absolutely efficacious, we mean-leaving the cry up more loudly than ever the advantage of padpoints of convenience and inconvenience of form en- dle-wheels.

Our sketch represents the screw-propeller of a line-of-battle ship, under the operation of having its bearing points adjusted on a gigantic lathe. The screw itself is merely that object in our delineation, which resembles rather closely two gigantic fins of a fish, starting, one on either side, from a central spindle. All the first propelling screws were made

of iron; but inasmuch as contact with brass and copper was inevitable, they rapidly corroded, for the same reason that iron pailings corrode at the point of junction with its leaden socket-namely, galvanic agency. Propelling screws are now entirely constructed of gun-metal; rather an expensive material as to its first cost, but more economical than iron in the end. The extreme breadth of the screw, so far as we could judge, from the end of one fin to that of the other, might have been some fourteen feet; but the whole instrument, as compared with a cumbrous paddle-wheel, is but a bagatelle.

put out his paw, bristling with talons, and inflicted a THE CAPRICES OF CHANCE. deep gash in Fatty's hand.

"Drat the cat!' shrieked Fatty; and dropped the

saucer."

A LEGEND OF EDEN.

NEVER

[EVER was Prince more unlike his predecessors, or we should say his ancestors, than the French King Louis XVIII. He had none of the peculiarities of Henry IV., no sallies, no sudden bursts of passion; he was neither a conqueror like Louis XIV., nor a sportsman and a debauchee like Rich with bright flowers and fruits, all glowing still, Louis XV. All his passions were in his head— Fragrant, and fair, and tempting to the sense. They passed the fourfold river in their flight,

ADAM went forth from Eden, bearing thence

The fatal branch, prolific of such ill;

Lit by the Cherub's sword's repellant glare, That filied with lurid rays the trembling air; Blood-red the waters glowed beneath the light.

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IN the good old days of the Minerva Press the sine Forth on a rocky path, a thorn-vexed maze.

quá non of a popular novel was, that the heroine But lo a marvel-sudden from the stem
should be endowed with the grace of fairy, and
gifted with the beauty of a Venus de Medicis.
Modern writers of fiction, however, consider such
arts beneath them, and, in order to decoy their readers,
they represent the creatures of their fancy, to use a
homely simile, as "ugly as sin."

Fell fruit and flowers as smit with canker breath,
(To Eden flowers the outer air was death);
Only a dry, bare branch remained with them.
Adam lived long repentantly, and when

He at the last lay dying, did he crave Of Eve to plant the bough above his grave, Sole relic left of Eden, kept till then.

The following description of a modern heroine is And told her that whene'er that stem should bloom somewhat after the style so much in vogue:

And bear rich fruitage, their unhappy deed,
Of which such woeful sequence was the meed,

Would be forgiven, and reversed its doom.
These were his words. Eve was no novice strange
Startled at death-she knew it but too well;
Cain taught that lesson early. But they fell,

Still did she act on them, and plant the bough.

The grey old fathers of the earth, 'tis said, Honored their first forefather's lowly bed, As still tradition made it known as now. Noah through the Deluge bore it in the ark:

"Fatty was squat and stumpy in person with one shoulder considerably elevated above the other, and an extensive bump in the middle of her back. Her face was of a peculiar conformation; and although she was scarcely turned fifteen, a stranger might As a mere sick man's wanderings, wide of range. have guessed her fifty. Her jaws were thin and lantern-like, and her forehead was remarkably low and narrow. Her eyes seemed to possess a thousand prismatic hues, like the orb of a cat looking at a candle, or a stagnant pool of water on a hot summer's day. She had but two teeth in her head, and those two protruded over her lower lip, like a couple of griffins keeping guard at the entrance of a cave. Her hair was of a deep red, and hung in matted clumps down her back. Add to this, a trick of squinting, and an habitual pronunciation of the v's like w's, and you have Fatty before you." The conduct of the story is also simplicity to the

last degree, and some of the scenes are depicted with a truthfulness and happy detail that might shame even a Bow Street reporter; as for instance :

When earth renewed did bud and blossom free
Almost like Edon, did he look to see
Change, yet was none the watcher's eye could mark.
Ages rolled on, and still the bough was seen

Dry, withered, under each successive spring
Sapless, as never to revive, or fling

Shadows on earth, from foliage fresh and green.
Dry

staid it, till one night a mystic star

Shed on it full the lustre of its rays,

Mild, healing, all unlike the withering blaze
Of flaming swords, meet for cherubic war.
And the sap rose within it, and it grew,

Putting forth tender buds like emerald gems.
Studding the surface of its rugged stems,

Developing strange beauty, strange and new.
And growing with its growth, a little Child

"Fatty sat at a round deal table, having two sound legs, and a brickbat placed under the third, to bring it on a level with its brethren. The supplement of a newspaper formed her table cloth, and her repast consisted of thick slices of bread sparingly spread with butter, and a warm dilution of unnatural weakness, by courtesy called tea. A companion sat perched on the chair beside her, in the shape of Pause here awhile, my verse, a little space;

a one-eyed cat, eyeing intently each mouthful that Fatty took, and ever and anon playfully reminding the maiden with a pat of her paw that she hadn't had any yet.

"Well, my poor Chowny,' said Fatty, did it want something then, did it?'

"The cat blinked.

"Well, it shall have something, so it shall,' continued Fatty, grinning maliciously, pouring out some milk in an old chipped saucer, of the willow pattern. "The cat mewed.

"Fatty held out the saucer in a tantalizing manner, and was about to draw it back, when Chowny

Sat 'neath it through the days of infancy, Its shadow darkened towards maturity, And both grew fair in beauty undefiled.

Pause we,

For never fairer vision can you see
Than Virgin-Mother cradling on her knee
This Child, unlike all babes of mortal race.
the noontide sun is glowing fierce,
Let us delay beneath its boughs to rest,
Calm beauty lingers on that mother's breast,
Which swords hereafter are foretold to pierce.
But still, nor fruit nor blossom did it bear,

This tall and stately tree of thirty years,
In it no sign of further growth appears ;
Why should the axe its lofty stature spare
A crowd press eager up the hill of scorn,

And in the midst is one whose steps they urge;
One worn and faint, and drooping from the scourge,
Robed regally, and diademed with thorn.

brain was the only thing working within him. A shuffler in his private circle, he was always mixing together or dividing the threads of the passions with which his relations, his courtiers or his servants were agitated, and nothing could delight him more than the surprise experienced by them all, after he had taken some strange or unexpected resolution. A man, in other respects, of a fine and sagacious mind, he would pride himself on his literary tastes, and dote upon Horace with all the sincerity of a good Latin scholar and the sympathy of a sceptic. A pupil of the nil admirari school, he did set but little value upon all things; rather free in his talk, exempt from prejudices, he was generally witty, and never more at ease than when he was not surrounded by people plus royalists que le roi, a rare thing, indeed, for him who, according to his own expression, resided too near the Pavillon Marson. It is impossible, used to say Madame de Maintenon, speaking of Louis XIV., to amuse that inamusable ruan. Mesdames de Pompadour and Dubarry did also vainly struggle against the ennui which had taken hold of Louis XV. Louis XVIII. found in the resources of a cultivuted mind a sure remedy against that royal malady, and at his private evening parties there was no lack of agreeable storytellers.

One evening, that Louis XVIII. was by himself in his study, the Count D was ushered in. The Count was a very witty man; he had been a chamberlain to the Emperor, and was now gentilhomme ordinaire to Louis XVIII.; this, at all events, strongly testified in favor of his savoir-faire. Louis XVIII. was occupied in perusing a volume of Horace, which he immediately laid aside on perceiving the Count, and after having invited him to sit down, said to him :

"Well, Count, what news do you bring?" "Nothing, sire, that I know of. The Pavillon Marsan looks sullen, the ultra are furious, the clergy storming, and the press is hostile."

"I know all these," answered Louis XVIII., "still there is a thing for which I have to thank the Opposition, they separate my cause a gente iniquá.”

"A gente iniquá means, I suppose, Pavillon Marsan," said the Count timidly.

"Free translation," replied the king, goodhumoredly.

"Ah!" exclaimed the Count, like a man who suddenly remembers a forgotten story, "your Majesty has just made the fortune and happiness of the son of a conventionnel, of a reg—”

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repertory of the Théatre Français, which have been too forward an opinion for me. I have maturely regiven, par ordre."

"For him ?" said Louis XVIII. "He boasts of it, sire."

flected upon it. I cannot give you my daughter; it would be showing off too republican principles and compromising my tranquility. I esteem you infi"I should very much like to know how that gen-nitely; but, in future, my house will be shut up for tleman brings out his tale."

"I will tell you how, sire. I have the advantage of being received at the house of a banker, a most violent member of the Opposition; he is one of my old friends of the Empire."

you."

Saint Cloud. The weather was exceedingly fine, and the park quite deserted; no lounger in the gardens, no prince or king in the castle, one would have thought that fine place was belonging to us, those perfumed lawns were our own, and those venerable trees were bowing to our youthful love. Whilst concealed in the wood, we heard, it is true, a noise of wheels and horses; the sand on the banks appeared also to have been scattered about; but that was all, and we soon afterwards proceeded to the great basin. politeness of the nobleman, the mother could easily "Louis XVIII., who made us marry,' said I to perceive all his disdain; it was a sort of comedy | my wife, ought to order the water-works to be set tempered by the elegant manners of the day. But playing to celebrate our nuptials; it would be a my father-in-law was fascinated, and the marriage well-timed gallantry. What do you think of it, was about to be concluded, when I received the visit Emma?' of the young duke.'

"I left him in despair. I saw the mother, a sensible woman, who, like Madame Jourdain, did not wish her daughter to become a great lady. The duke was young; but, on the one hand, Emma did not "Do not tell me his name, Count; I know whom look at him, and on the other, beneath the excessive you mean."

"I was yesterday at his house. In the course of the evening I saw entering the drawing-room a fine, tall, well-made young man, superb eyes, black and curly hair. There is not a finer man amongst the life-guards of your Majesty."

"Was it the son of the regicide!" asked Louis XVIII.

"Sir,' said he to me, on entering my room, I am about marrying the girl you love, and I have just been made acquainted with the love she feels for colo-you; I would not, for a world cause the misfortune of two persons, and I accordingly resign.'

"Himself. He came and took a seat near mine, then entered into conversation with a half-pay nel, who is also one of my acquaintances."

"I understand, my dear Scævola,' said the colonel to him, that you are one of the happiest men in Paris at the present moment; I thank for it your lucky star.,'

"My lucky star,' answered Scævola. Say, rather, Louis XVIII.; it is the King of France who is the cause of my fortune and happiness.' "You are joking.'

"These are nice feelings for a duke,' said the colonel.

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"I do not generally believe in such generosity,' pursued Scævola, where a pretty woman is concerned, besides six hundred thousand francs, and plenty more to come.'

"Do you know what had happened? I will tell you: Louis XVIII. had been apprised of the match, and had positively forbidden such a mesalliance to take place."

"Of course! I remember it well," exclaimed Louis XVIII., when the Count had reached this part of the story; "it was the Duke de L. Assuredly not. I would not have him marry a haberdasher's daughter. Fy! We should have had then at the Tuilleries but ladies acquainted with the price of lace or the measure of calico. I opposed the marriage."

"La Rue St. Denis is in a rage," said the Count. "La Rue St. Denis and its inhabitants will do as they please," replied the king, "I will not have them at the Tuilleries. Go on."

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"Oh! I should be delighted,' answered Emma. I have never seen such a spectacle; it must be a

fine one!'

66 6

Hardly had she achieved speaking, but lo! the basin fills, the water spouts throw out their contents, the griffins, toads, and chimeras send forth a bubbling froth, which glitters in the sun, and streams on, now roaring, now sweetly singing in the air. The atmosphere is refreshed, everything looks lively. We then leave the great basin, wondering at so many marvels, and we run into that fresh retreat where, behind a dark screen of green trees the finest waterspout in the world rises above the surrounding oaks, and falls again in silvery grapes. My wife looked all amazement, and I was asking to myself if my father, one of the late rulers of the Republic, had come again into this world to give orders at Saint Cloud." "

"Most assuredly not!" exclaimed Louis XVIII., starting up from his seat, and stamping upon the "No! I am the King carpet with his gouty foot. of France, and the only master at Saint Cloud. What a strange man is your Scævola, my dear Count! The fact is, I went on that day to Versailles, and passed through Saint Cloud; the water-works were to play on my passage, but the orders had been badly given, and still worse executed, so that I was already far off when they began to work. The keeper shall be discharged."

"Judge yourself. There was residing, some time ago, in the Rue St Denis, an angel, a sweet, kind and witty young girl, whose beauty was so remarkable, that during six months of my life, I was positively jealous of all the inhabitants of Paris from eighteen to thirty-five years of age. Her father is one of the richest merchants of that industrious street; and I, to whom my father has left but a mediocre fortune, I fell so ardently in love with the girl, that I surprised myself a hundred times, wishing that that Croesus of merchants might be utterly ruined. God forgive me now! However, I introduced myself to the family, was received with kindness, and loved by the girl. Her mother looked upon me with a “‘I am ready, sire,' Scævola said to the colonel. good eye, I presented my request. My love was I ran to my father-in-law; he was exasperated: he not precisely rejected; but the father, a very ambi- did not remember having been a modéreé in '95; but tious man, who dreams now of municipal honors, he mentioned to me all the montagnards with whom communal glory-nay, perhaps a seat in the Cham- he had been an intimate friend, deploring at the same time the shameful prodigality of the Bourbons in that our nuptials might be simple, and, above all distributing the Cross of the Legion of Honor, the things, she might be spared the supplise of a ball, a "In the meanwhile an aristocratic family, star of the brave, as he called it, to unworthy favor-thing always tiresome to a young bride, Emma allured, no doubt, by the marriage-portion of Emma ites; and, anxious to set the Court at defiance by left her mother, and is not acquainted with the plea(my wife's name is Emma, colonel), entered into a marrying his daughter to an Opposition man, he sures of Paris; she had never seen Talma. I accord

bers—the father gave but a semi-approbation, and

asked for delay.

parley with my father-in-law. Emma would have been a duchess, she would have been introduced at court; my father-in-law wished to be an adjoint; he would be made a mayor; he would enter the Council-General; he would become a deputy. . . . Why did they say to him, have you nothing at your button-hole? We will put there a red ribbon. My father-in-law summoned me into his presence; I now forgive him from the bottom of my heart; one must have pity on human weakness. "My friend,' said he to me, "you know what an abyss separates us now from the past-the abyss of revolutions. As to me, I have always been a good citizen, but no montagnard; nay, I was prosecuted during the Revolution for being a modéré, and you, I fear you are of

gave me Emma. Such are men, colonel. You see
now well enough that it is not to my father-in-law
that I am indebted for my wife; I hold her from the
hands of Louis XVIII.'

“This the colonel readily admitted. A circle had
been formed round the new-married man, who con-
tinued thus:-

"This is not all: and Louis XVIII, not satisfied with favoring my marriage, has royally contributed to the festivities.'"

"When the last griffin had poured out its last drop of water,' continued Scævola, we came back

to Paris, and after dinner, Emma, who had desired

wished me to take her to the theatre. She has never

ingly took her to the Theatre Français, where they were playing by special desire. Every place was occupied, and we were mournfully promenading in the lobby, when a boxkeeper came to me, and taking

me aside,

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"How so," interrupted the king; "have I signed the pleasure Emma felt. Talma was playing Manthe marriage settlement?" lius, and the great magician had talent enough to "You will see what your Majesty has done sire; divert my wife's love at least for a few hours. Behear what Scævola says;tween the acts I went out and inquired of the box"As soon as we were married, we set out for keeper what lucky chance could thus have procured

me a box, which was evidently preserved for some L, who knows the bride, has made a very seduc- | said the director, after the performance, as he kissed one else.' ing portrait of her beauty, and they are all indignant her hand. "It is no chance,' said she to me; it is the at your having prevented an ancient family from king.' getting rich."

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My Monsieur Scævola, sire, has much enlivened the evening with his story, and little did he suspect he was relating it in the presence of one who would narrate it again before your Majesty."

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The truth is," said the king, "that chance has arranged matters so as to render them probable. And as to the Duke of L?"

"He has made up his mind, like a sensible man, and has tried to make friends with M. Scævola. I did not believe him so clever."

Louis XVIII. considered for a while; a look of malice flashed on his countenance, his eyes sparkled, and after having ascertained the time marked on his clock, "It is eleven, Count," said he: " going to render me a service."

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Let your Majesty dispose of me," said the Count.

"Go to the Duchess d'Angouléme, you will find her with my nephew, and also my brother: they are all there. You will narrate this story; but what Monsieur Scævola has only supposed, you will really impute to me. You will say that I intended to favor that young man, and that it is the reason which made me break off the match of the Duke of L.

Do not forget the water-works at Saint Cloud, nor
Manlius. Go on."

"But, sire

"Very well, very well, Count," said Louis XVIII., delighted at the idea of having thus thrown the alarm in the Pavillon Marsan. "But what next have they said? They must have looked for a word, for an epithet, to affix to my title of King of France and Navarre."

"My dear impresario," replied she, "it is here as in politics-you must lead the movement, or else be swept away."

CURIOSITIES OF LOTTERIES.-The Romans invented lotteries to embellish their Saturnalia. This fete commenced with a distribution of tickets, by which might be gained a few prizes. The lotteries of Augustus consisted of articles of very little value; but Nero established them on a plan advantageous Courage-speak out. You are a friend, Count; to the people, consisting of a thousand tickets a the King of France will know nothing about it.” day, by which several, whom fortune favored, ae'They said you were a montagnard and a Ja-quired great wealth. The lotteries of Heliogabalus

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Ah! sire, I will never dare

cobin."

"Bravo!" cried out Louis XVIII., in rubbing his hands.

And for a whole week he forgot his gout and his

rheumatism.

MISCELLANY.

ALBONI'S WHISTLE.-The following anecdote is
recorded of Alboni, who has often been compared to
a German student, having all the sang froid and
courage usually attributed to that class.

Having heard, on the day of her arrival at Trieste,
that a cabal was being organized against her, she
wended her way to the estaminet, and mingled with
the conspirators-her short locks, full figure, and
dégagé air rendering it difficult to divine her sex.
"I am a stranger," said Alboni, addressing her-
self to the Brutus of the party; "but if there's fun
on hand, count on me."

"Agreed," was the reply; "6 we are preparing to
hiss down a cantitrice this evening."

"What has she done-anything wicked?"
"We know nothing about her, except that she
comes from Rome, and we wish to have no singers
here of whose reputation we are not the creators."
"That appears to me fair enough. Now as to the
part I am to take in the affair."

one.

"Never fear; there will be no harm done." At midnight the Count came back to the king. "Well! Count, what have they said?" "They question the truth of the story, sire, and affirm that the day Talma played Manlius, your Ma- "Take this whistle; each of us carries a similar jesty was really detained by the gout. As to the At a signal, which will be given after the air water works, they say your Majesty has passed so of Rosina in the "Barber of Seville," you have but rapidly through Saint Cloud, that everything may to add to the tempest which will be raised." be ascribed to chance. In opposing the marriage of the Duke de L—you have done a thing they ap-guise, received from the hand of her dupe a pretty "I comprehend ;" and Alboni, faithful to her disprove of, by prevénting a mesalliance. Besides, black whistle, attached to a red ribbon. some one has judiciously remarked that a Cross of the Legion of Honor had been promised to Scævola's father-in-law, and they accordingly think that had your Majesty really had the intention of favoring Scævola, the Cross of Honor would have been granted."

"Ah! they do think so," said the king, rather excited. "Well then! go there again to-morrow, and come back to me afterwards. I will pacify La Rue St. Denis."

On the day following the "Moniteur" contained a royal ordinance, appointing Monsieur Paul Ledru a Knight of the Legion of Honor, in reward, it is said, of his unalterable probity and integrity.

The Count kept his appointment. "Are they satisfied to-day, Count?" asked the king, as soon as he entered the room.

"Oh! sire, they no longer doubt. The Duke de

were either very important or very insignificant. were of a very singular kind. The lots or prizes For instance, there would be a prize of six slaves, and another of six flies. One man might gain a precious vase, and another a common earthen jar. This lottery, thus composed, was a very just picture of the inequality with which Fortune distributes her favors. In 1685, Louis XIV., surpassed in this respect the Roman emperors. The magnificent lottery which was drawn at Marlé, on the occasion of the marriage of Mademoiselle de Nantes with M. le Duc, was filled with all the precious jewelry which wealth could purchase, ingenuity invent, or talent execute, in perfection.

THE ACTOR'S FAREWELL TO THE STAGE.-One night-the night of retirement-makes terrible change, and holds a frightful division: one side we see the pomp of pageant, the measured march, the robe, the gemmed crown, the lighted eye, the crowd, the brilliancy, the shout, the triumphs of wellfeigned passion, the beauty of breathed poetry! On the other side all is dark! Life's candles are burnt out-ay, and in one night! We see the by-gone actor, bent from his pride of place, creeping about in his impoverished state-feeble, dejected, commonly attired, solitary, lost! The past remains to him a pang-like dream! Stripped at once of all his greatness, he wanders about like one walking in his sleep-seeing others usurp his throne in the public heart, or, not daring to abide the misery of such an usurpation, straying solitarily to some distant spot -some foreign shore-there to hear no storm of the waters, and watch the "untumultuous fringe of applause, no deafening shouts of a multitude, but to see quiet sunsets, hear the evening wind die along silver foam," woven momently and monotonously at his feet. He is Lear turned out by his pelican children from pomp to poverty.

That night the theatre was crowded to the ceiling. At the rising of the curtain Almaviva and Figaro, two favorites, were listened to with attention, but when Rosina appeared in the scene in which she LORD ELDON IN HIS CUPS.-One evening, John addresses the jealous tudor, a half-dozen whistles Clerk-Lord Eldon—had been dipping rather too sounded their shrill notes through the house, un- deeply in the convivial bowl with a friend in Queen mindful of the signal to be given by the leaders of Street, and on emerging into the open air, his intelthe cabal. lect becoming a considerable degree confused, and Alboni advanced to the foot-lights, and displayed not being able to distinguish objects with any the whistle suspended round her neck.

degree of minuteness or certainty, he thought him"Gentlemen," said she, with a smile, "We must self in a fair way of losing the road to his own house not hiss me, but the cavatina; you have commenced in Picardy Place. In this perplexity he espied some too soon," one coming towards him, whom he stopped with There was a moment of silence-then thunders of this query: "D'ye ken whaur John Clerk bides ?" applause rang through the house.

'What's the use o' you speerin' that question ?" The cantatrice was that night called eleven times said the man; "you're John Clerk himsel." "Iken amidst showers of bouquets. that," answered John; "but it's no himsel that's

"I had no idea you were aware of this cabal," wanted-it's his house."

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