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table portion. To bring things under the light of one's intelligence, to see how they look there, to accustom one's self simply to regard the Mary lebone Vestry, or the Educational Home, or the Irish Church Establishment, or our railway management, or our Divorce Court, or our gin-palaces open on Sunday and the Crystal Palace shut, as absurdities,

— that is, I am sure, invaluable exercise for us just at present. Let all persist in it who can, and steadily set their desires on introducing, with time, a little more soul and spirit into the too, too solid flesh of English society.

I have a friend who is very sanguine, in spite of the dismal croakings of these foreigners, about the turn things are even now taking amongst us. "Mean and ignoble as our middle class looks," he says, " it has this capital virtue, it has seriousness. With frivolity, cultured or uncultured, you can do nothing; but with seriousness, there is always hope. Then, too, the present bent of the world towards amusing itself, so perilous to the highest class, is curative and good for our middle class. A piano in a Quaker's drawing-room is a step for him to more humane life; nay, perhaps even the penny gaff of the poor EastLondoner is a step for him to more humane life; it is — what example shall we choose ? — it is Slrathmore, let us say, — it is the one-pound-eleven-andsixpenny gaff of the young gentlemen of the clubs ana the young ladies of Belgravia, that is for them but a step in the primrose path to the everlasting bonfire. Besides, say what you like of the idealessness of aristocracies, the vulgarity of our middle class, the immaturity of our lower, and the poor chance which a happy type of modern life has between them, consider this: Of all that makes life liberal and humane, — of light, of ideas, of culture,

— every man in every class of society who has a dash of genius in him is the boon friend.

"By his bringing up, by his habits, by his interest, he may be their enemy; by the primitive, unalterable complexion of his nature, he is their friend. Therefore, the movement of the modern spirit will be more and more felt among us, it will spread, it will prevail. Nay," this enthusiast often continues, getting excited as he goes on, "The Times, itself, which so stirs some people's indignation,— what is The Times but a gigantic Sancho Panza, to borrow a phrase of your friend Heine, — a gigantic Sancho Panza, following by an attraction he cannot resist that poor, mad, scorned, suffering, sublime enthusiast, the modern spirit, — following it, indeed, with constant grumbling, expostulation, and opposition, with airs of protection, of compassionate superiority, with an incessant by-play of nods, shrugs, and winks addressed to the spectators,

— following it, in short, with all the incurable recalcitrancy of a lower nature, but still following it 1" When my friend talks thus, I always shake my head, and say that this sounds very like the transcendentalism which has already brought me into so many scrapes.

I have another friend again (and I am grown so cowed by all the rebuke my original speculations have drawn upon me that I find myself more and more filling the part of a mere listener), who calls himself Anglo-Saxon rather than English, and this is what he says: "We are a small country," he says, "and our middle class has, as you say, not much gift for anything but making money. Our freedom and wealth have given us a great start, our capital will give us for a long time an advantage; but as other countries grow better-governed and

richer, we must necessarily sink to the position to which our size and our want of any eminent gift for telling upon the world spiritually, doom us.

"But look at America; it is the same race; whether we are first or they, Anglo-Saxonism triumphs. You used to say that they had all the Philistinism of the English middle class from which they spring, and a great many faults of their own besides. But you noticed, too, that, blindly as they seemed following in-general the star of their god Buncombe, they showed, at the same time, a feeling for ideas, a vivacity and play of mind, which our middle class has not, and which comes to the Americans, probably, from their democratic life, with its ardent hope, its forward stride, its gaze fixed on the future. Well, since these great events have lately come to purge and form them, how is this intelligence of theirs developing itself? Now they are manifesting a quick sense to see how the world is really going, and a sure faith, indispensable to all nations that are to be great, that greatness is only to be reached by going that way and no other? And then, if you talk of culture, look at the culture their middle, and even their working class is getting, as compared with the culture ours are getting. The trash which circulates by the hundred thousand among our middle class has no readers in America; our rubbish is for home-consumption; all our best best books, books which are read here only by the small educated class, are in America the books of the great reading public. So over there they will advance spiritually as well as materially; and if our race at last flowers to modern life there, and not here, does it so much matter?"

So says my friend, who is, as I premised, a devotee of Anglo-Saxonism; I, who share his pious frenzy but imperfectly, do not feel quite satisfied with these plans of vicarious greatness, and have a longing for this old and great country of ours to be always great in herself, not only in her progeny. So I keep looking at her, and thinking of her, and as often as I consider how history is a series of waves, coming gradually to a head, and then breaking, and that, as the successive waves come up, one nation is seen at the top of this wave, and then another of the next, I ask myself, counting all the waves which have come up with England on the top of them: When the great wave which is now mounting has come up, will she be at the top of it? IUa nihil, nee me qucerentem vana moralur.

Yes, we arraign her; but she,

The weary Titan, with deaf

Ears, and labor-dimmed eyes,

Regarding neither to right

Nor left, goes passively by,

Staggering on to her goal; •

Bearing, on shoulders immense,

Atlantean, the load,

Wellnigh not to be borne,

Of the too vast orb of her fate.

DREAMS OF THE TWO EMPERORS.

A LEAF FROM PUNCH.

"Oh!" cried Mrs. Judy.

"I 've dreamt," said Mr. Punch, who was by this time (11.30 A. M., being an early riser) in his flowered dressing-gown.

"Dreamt that you dwelt in marble halls?" inquired Mrs. Judy, yawning.

"No, my dear," returned her husband, seriously, sipping his early chocolate, "I dreamt that I met somebody else, who had also dreamt, — in fact, I dreamt," continued Mr. Punch, meditatively, "that

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sible war. the difficult problem of Italian —
dene*. 'She has been taught by France to look ■
stead to the acquisition of fresh territory by wmmi

niest She has now been told with peneet &*»
e warning voice of the British Parbameat fanl
she has not a moment to lose in retracing ker meat.
if indeed her penitence be not too late.' Wei. at
make a long story short, we did not retrace ^r
stops: we went on, as you know; we luunwbi:
and now iet us make a jump from the ifnag to me F»o
autumn. Here is your unanimous Engfafc fTM'"- ^f
here is your Areopagus, here is your Tma. m Gr- wit
tober: • It is very irregular (Sardinia'scone). X m »
contrary to all diplomatic forms. Francis die See-
ond can show a thousand texts of i:
against it. Yes; but there are ex
ill law, and there are laws which ex
society was formed. There are laws

Cted in our nature, and which form part of At
an mind,' and so on. Why, here yon km en-
tirely boxed the compass, and come ronad from the
aristocratical programme to the programme «f
French pamphlet, 'the dreams of an agoa
language of the rhetorician 1' And yon
not only our present, but our put, and
off your ban of reprobation issued in Febmarr.

"' How great a change has beta it mil kw the
wisely courageous policy of Sardinia.' The firm-
ness and boldness which have raised hair fimm
degradation form the enduring A*r-*i of a Km
years' policy. King Victor I'miiii—I ami km aviaaar
gacious counsellor have achieved surcea hy naaem-1 am 4
bering that fortune favors the bold.' There taalaaat
may see why the mind of France ianWaeei tat tesa
Continent so much and the mind of Eatjamd
little. France has intelligence eaoasatnpon
the ideas that are moving, or are Ekerr to mirrr.
world; she believes in them, sticks to them.;
shapes her course to suit them. Ton nrilhi -
ctive them nor believe in them, but Too abr
them like counters, taking them npaad Btw
down at random, and following reaDv

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249

off the pepown hands, elson's Colion of this Jed or shot substantial irtar all ornstrels from •rs for exhit't mention up all who I reorgan•dered that should be when they police, and m to do his ing-houscs, sums, were linner, two the mercy ing-houses, 1 one modlinated bel, and the

•e Brigade, iu Thames, ipplies. I utliors ac1 a dozen found loionvonient ■rectors of I the gasii.' 'lour said, 'and Ireamt you •in suggest j the Seine liting your seemed to >r lighted a was to blow

the second

to Toby, he

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table portion. To bring things under the light of one's intelligence, to see how they look there, to accustom one's self simply to regard the Marylebonc Vestry, or the Educational Home, or the Irish Church Establishment, or our railway management, or our Divorce Court, or our gin-palaces open on Sunday and the Crystal Palace shut, as absurdities,

— that is, I am sure, invaluable exercise for us just at present Let all persist in it who can, and steadily set their desires on introducing, with time, a little more soul and spirit into the too, too solid flesh of English society.

I have a friend who is very sanguine, in spite of the dismal croakings of these foreigners, about the turn things are even now taking amongst us. "Mean and ignoble as our middle class looks," he says, " it has this capital virtue, it has seriousness. With frivolity, cultured or uncultured, you can do nothing; but with seriousness there is always hope. Then, too, the present bent of the world towards amusing itself, so perilous to the highest class, is curative and good for our middle class. A piano in a Quaker's drawing-room is a step for him to more humane life; nay, perhaps even the penny gaff of the poor EastLondoner is a step for him to more humane life; it is — what example shall we choose ? — it is Strathmore, let us say, — it is the one-pound-eleven-andsixpenny gaff of the young gentlemen of the clubs and the young ladies of Belgravia, that is for them but a step in the primrose path to the everlasting bonfire. Besides, say what you like of the idealessness of aristocracies, the vulgarity of our middle class, the immaturity of our lower, and the poor chance which a happy type of modern life has between them, consider this: Of all that makes life liberal and humane, — of light, of ideas, of culture,

— every man in every class of society who has a dash of genius in him is the boon friend.

"By his bringing up, by hi3 habits, by his interest, he may be their enemy; by the primitive, unalterable complexion of his nature, he is their friend. Therefore, the movement of the modern spirit will be more and more felt among us, it will spread, it will prevail. Nay," this enthusiast often continues, getting excited as he goes on, "The Times, itself, which so stirs some people's indignation,— what is The Times but a gigantic Sancho Panza, to borrow a phrase of your friend Heine, — a gigantic Sancho Panza, following by an attraction he cannot resist that poor, mad, scorned, suffering, sublime enthusiast, the modern spirit, — following it, indeed, with constant grumbling, expostulation, and opposition, with airs of protection, of compassionate superiority, with an incessant by-play of nods, shrugs, and winks addressed to the spectators,

— following it, in short, with all the incurable recalcitrancy of a lower nature, but still following it?" When my friend talks thus, I always shake my head, and say that this sounds very like the transcendentalism which has already brought me into so many scrapes.

I have another friend again (and I am grown so cowed by all the rebuke my original speculations have drawn upon me that I find myself more and more filling the part of a mere listener), who calls himself Anglo-Saxon rather than English, and this is what he says: "We are a small country," he says, "and our middle class has, as you say, not much gift for anything but making money. Our freedom and wealth have given us a great start, our capital will give us for a long time an advantage; but as other countries grow better-governed and

richer, we must necessarily sink to the position to which our size and our want of any eminent gift for telling upon the world spiritually, doom us.

"But look at America; it is the same race; whether we are first or they, Anglo-Saxonism triumphs. You used to say that they had all the Philistinism of the English middle class from which they spring, and a great many faults of their own besides. But you noticed, too, that, blindly as they seemed following in-general the star of their god Buncombe, they showed, at the same time, a feeling for ideas, a vivacity and play of mind, which our middle class has not, and which comes to the Americans, probably, from their democratic life, with its ardent hope, its forward stride, its gaze fixed on the future. Well, since these great events have lately come to purge and form them, how is this intelligence of theirs developing itself? Now they are manifesting a quick sense to see how the world is really going, and a sure faith, indispensable to all nations that are to be great, that greatness is only to be reached by going that way and no other? And then, if you talk of culture, look at the culture their middle, and even their working class is getting, as compared with the culture ours are getting. The trash which circulates by the hundred thousand among our middle class has no readers in America; our rubbish is for home-consumption; all our best best books, books which are read here only by the small educated class, are in America the books of the great reading public. So over there they will advance spiritually as well as materially; and if our race at last flowers to modern life there, and not here, does it so much matter?"

So says my friend, who is, as I premised, a devotee of Angfo-Saxonism; I, who share his pious frenzy but imperfectly, do not feel quite satisfied with these plans of vicarious greatness, and have a longing for this old and great country of ours to be always great in herself, not only in her progeny. So I keep looking at her, and thinking of her, and as often as I consider how history is a scries of waves, coming gradually to a head, and then breaking, and that, as the successive waves come up, one nation is seen at the top of this wave, and then another of the next, I ask myself, counting all the waves which have come up with England on the top of them: When the great wave which is now mounting has come up, will she be at the top of it? Ilia nihil, nee me quarentem vana moratur.

Yes, we arraign her; but she,

The weary Titan, with deaf

Ears, and labor-dimmed eyes,

Begarding neither to right

Nor left, goes passively by,

Staggering on to her goal; ■

Bearing, on shoulders immense,

Atlantean, the load,

Wellnigh not to be borne.

Of the too vast orb of her fate.

DREAMS OF THE TWO EMPERORS.

A. LEAF FROM PUNCH.

"oh!" cried Mrs. Judy.

"I 've dreamt," said Mr. Punch, who was by this time (11.30 A. M., being an early riser) in his flowered dressing-gown.

"Dreamt that you dwelt in marble halls?" inquired Mrs. Judy, yawning.

"No, my dear," returned her husband, seriously, sipping his early chocolate, "I dreamt that I met somebody else, who had also dreamt, — in fact, 1 dreamt," continued Mr. Punch, meditatively, " that

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he dreamt that —" Here he paused, and extricated himself from the meshes of his sentence.

Toby sat up for toast.

"What did you dream ?" asked Madame, becoming lazily interested.

"Curiosity, thy name is Julia!" said Mr. Punch, playfully placing a morsel of rotie on Toby's nose.

Toby waited for the word " three."

Mr. Punch forgot all about him and his toast.

"I dreamt," said Mr. Punch, more apparently as a confidence between himself and the fire-irons than as addressing his fair spouse, "that I was in Paris at the Tile-Kilns; the Tuileries," Mr. Punch explained, "having been a place where hats, or tiles, were made, and crowns fitted —"

"Yes," said Julia.

Mr. Punch was pleased with the interruption, and continued without noticing it, while Toby sat on his hind legs, anxiously regarding his master, but by him disregarded. \

"At the Tile-Kilns, talking to my dear cousin Louis, who told me that he had had a dream." Here, in memory of his cousin, Mr. Punch lighted a fragrant Havanna.

Toby winced, but the toast remained undisturbed.

"Said Louis to me," resumed Mr. Punch, inspecting the lighted end of his cigar, "' I dreamt I was king of England. Odd, that!'" Mr. Punch studied the bars of the fireplace for a second, and then went on. "' Yes,' said Louis to me, 'I dreamt that I had autocratic metropolitan power for a short time in London.'

"' What did your Majesty do?' I asked.

"' What I I found all your municipal authorities talking, and I worked. I began, Sir, by making a clean sweep of such places as Holywell Street; and from Charing Cross to the City there was one grand broad way.' I suggested," said Mr. Punch, musingly, " that St. Paul's was a difficulty. 'Bah!' replied the Emperor, 'I knocked Paternoster Row down, and demolished the crannies, the old houses, the nooks, and alleys, while the Dean and Chapter were in bed. I took away the railings that guard the Cathedral, and Sir Christopher's work seemed, with a new lease of life, to rise majestically towards heaven. Then, Sir, aided by the Unicorn from the Royal Arms, I tunnelled London, diverting the heavy traffic of vans and wagons from the public thoroughfares. Then, Sir, the Lion, co-operating with me, (a most energetic fellow, though now too much given to growling and roaring,) lashed with his tail the scavengers who did not scavenge from the street, trucks carrying nothing that stopped the way more than —' 'Lady So-and-So's carriage,' I suggested. 'Polisson!' said Louis, poking me in the ribs with his forefinger : oddly enough, I feel it now."

Toby winked: he had no more moved than the unhappy Pompeian sentinel on duty. "The Emperor said," Mr. Punch continued, —

"' I forbade engines to scream in or within five miles of the Metropolis, and I took away all their powers of building bridges over the streets until they had invented some way of running trains on them without any noise.'

"' Or,' I observed, said Mr. Punch to himself, 'until the horses should get accustomed to them.' 'That 's Irish,' said Louis. I explained that I was not for an age or a place, but for any age and every country. 'Je vous crois, mon en/ant,' said the Emperor, quoting Paul of the Adelphi. I made in one hour a clear way from the National Gallery to Westminster Abbey; I turned on the water in the

Trafalgar Square fountains; I turned off the pepper-castors from the gallery; I, with my own hands, placed the four lions at the base of Nelson's Column.' He looked grave at the mention of this hero, but went on quickly, ' and I beheaded or shot all builders who would not build good, substantial houses; I swept with one prodigious mortar all organs, German bands, and wandering minstrels from the streets; I gave Punch his safe corners for exhibition out of compliment to —' 'Don't mention it,' I said. We shook hands. 'I tied up all who would not tie up or muzzle their dogs; I reorganized all workhouses and prisons, and ordered that all owners and drivers of water-carts should be flogged once a day until they came out when they were wanted; I trebled the number of police, and told them that Louis expected every man to do his duty; I visited prisons for debt, sponging-houscs, and found that poor debtors, in for smalisums, were obliged to pay eighteen shillings for a dinner, two guineas for a private room, and were at the mercy of their jailers. These jailers of sponging-houscs, Sir, I whipped and dismissed, and ordered one moderate tariff to be observed; and I discriminated between the honest, but unfortunate man, and the miscalculating swindler.

"' Then, Sir, I took command of the Fire Brigade, and kicked vestrymen and beadles into the Thames. I instituted new machinery for water-supplies. I compelled theatrical managers to pay authors according to their success, and I beheaded a dozen picture-dealers. I flogged all cab-drivers found loitering, and appointed many new and convenient stands. Then, Sir, I hung most of the directors of gas-companies; then, Sir, I reorganized the gascompanies; and then, Sir, I lighted London.' '\ our Majesty has done well, — admirably,' I said, 'and I wish that some one would do all you dreamt you did. You have improved Paris; but I can suggest to you something which, without setting the Seine on fire, might give you a notion for lighting your small streets, if you'd permit,' — but it seemed to me that while I was talking the Emperor lighted a fusee, and applied it to a mortar, which was to blow all the nuisances to —"

"Where ?" asked Julia, awaking for the second time during her husband's narration.

Mr. Punch made no reply. Turning to Toby, he said, " Ah, Cerberus! One, two, three."

Toby tossed the morsel one half inch up in the air, snapped at, and swallowed it. Patience was rewarded, and Mr. Punch went to his shower-bath.

FOREIGN NOTES.

The chemical toys known as "Pharaoh's Serpents " have been so widely taken up, that we may do good service by mentioning what was said concerning them at a recent meeting of the Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society; namely, that all mercury vapor is more or less poisonous, and that injurious effects have followed from the burning of the Serpents in close rooms. Professor Roscoe stated that, in his opinion, the inhalation of even the smallest quantity of mercury vapor should be carefully avoided. But a few months ago, two young German chemists were poisoned, while working in a laboratory in London, by absorption through the lungs or skin of the vapor of a mercury compound which they were engaged in preparing. One of the two died at the end of three days in a state of mania, and the other has become a hope

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less idiot. Hence it will be understood that mercury vapor is not a thing to be trifled with.

The treatment of casual paupers by London workhouse officials has lately attracted a large share of public attention. There is, however, says the Times, another side to the picture, and the treatment of workhouse officials by casual paupers would probably furnish in its turn the materials of a pathetic narrative.

A Daughter of Mrs. Howitt is preparing for the press, " A Year in Sweden with I redrika Bremer."

A Chinese newspaper is to be issued in London under the title of the " Flying Dragon." Professor Summers, of King's College, is its projector. It is intended for circulation in China and Japan, and is to make its appearance once a month.

The Athencfum makes the following mention of Robert Buchanan's new volume of poems: "London Idyls" will consist principally of monologues, forming psychological studies of a somewhat unusual kind. The character of these studies may be surmised from the mention of such subjects as "The Murder Idyl," in which the monologuist is a woman whose husband has been hanged; "The BalladMaker," a writer of street songs vainly endeavoring to express his feelings, and who catches a gleam of poetry, without knowing it, in his efforts to comfort a poor dying coster-lad with a song; and " The Rev. Mr. Honeydew," a fashionable preacher. Besides the " London Idyls," there will be a modern poem of considerable length, a number of lyrics, and several north-coast idyls.

111

The old report that Mr. Tennyson is busily enaged upon a classical subject has been revived. dany of our readers may remember that some four years since a similar statement was put in circulation which was gradually varied until the poem in preparation was said to relate to " a very early period of British history." The coming poem, as in the case of" Enoch Arden," will not improbably be on a very different subject from that guessed at.

The question of the epidemy of Trichines has acquired such an importance in the scientific world, as well as among the people (with the only difference that the latter are struck by a panic, after the horrible devastation which this epidemy caused at Haderslcben, while the first is delighted to have a new form of suffering to inquire into), that it seems but fair to remember the real discoverer of the terrible disease, Dr. F. A. Zenkor, who even in his own country runs a risk of having his merits put in the shade by the clever inquiries which have been made since his discovery by Professor Leuckardt, at Giessen, and Dr. Virchow, at Berlin. Dr. Zenker, at present Professor of Pathological Anatomy at Erlangcn, belonged to the medical staff at Dresden, where, from the end of January to March, 1860, he made the surprising discovery that the Trichina, which had up till then been considered a harmless little animal, could cause the death of man. Through his careful examination of the facts, his penetration in drawing conclusions, he completely established the doctrine of the new disease in the human body in all its principal points, within the five or six weeks above mentioned. Professor Virchow says of him in his Archie: "The pathological groundwork we, Dr. Leuckardt and I, owe entirely to the striking observations of Herr Zenker,

who, it is true, has been favored by lucky circumstances furnishing him with the material, but who! made use of it in such a thorough, clever, and scicntific way, as scientific material won by chance has , seldom been made use of. A large and seemingly distant territory of knowledge has thus been conquered almost at one stroke." Another acknowledgment was bestowed on Herr Zonker by the French Academy of Sciences, who, in its meeting of the 6th of February, 1865, pronounced, uQue M. Zenker a eu; le veritable promoteur de la maladie trichinaire panni tous ceux qui ont contribue .•. la faire bien connaitre," and in consequence awarded him the Monthyon prize of 2,500 francs.

The following sketch of Queen Bess is from the pen of M. Jules Janin, in an article in the Journal dei Dfbals on the history of Elizabeth of England, by the late M. Dargaud: "Daughter of a tyrant, as odious and as cruel as any in history, and of i young, innocent queen, the most touching victim of the terrible Henry the Eighth, the young Elizabeth grew up on the steps of the scaffold ,which was to see so many more victims. As a child, she had tbe courage not to tremble before her father; she could regard the executioner of the most beautiful women and greatest men of the time without blenching. She was early accustomed to the noise of chains, locks, and the axe; and amid all these perils she could still smile. For this innocent girl, reserved for such high destiny, the reign of the bloody Mary was full of trials and dangers,; and when she Wm fetched from the Tower and told that she was queen, she trembled within herself at the remembrance of all the murders committed by Mary Tudor. A great day then commenced for all Protestant England, which was to live under clement laws, and, above all things, under an English queen. She was twentyfive years of age, in all the eclat of her youth and beauty; her head was evidently well fitted to wear a crown, and her hand to hold the golden sceptre. At her first glance she saw the greatest men in England prostrate at her feet, and ready to aid her with all their courage, their experience, and their virtue. Never did more worthv counsellors address ears better fitted to listen to them; and we, children of the Salic law, are dazzled, as it were, at the sight of w much grandeur around a throne occupied by a princess of twenty-five.

Madame Saqui, the rope-dancer, whose fame dates from the beginning of this century, died very recently at Paris, in her eightieth year. It is recorded of her, that on the occasion of the birth of the First Napoleon's son, the King of Rome, she offered to dance on a rope between the two towers of Notre Dame. Napoleon refused to allow the exhibition. Subsequently she appeared, in defiance of the Emperor's prohibition, on her rope, in the midst of a display of fireworks, — a feat then novel, and one which excited the utmost astonishment. When she heard that the Emperor was in a great rage at his command having been disobeyed, she said, "Tell him to give orders to his grenadiers, and let us risk our lived as we like for ' our glory.'" She made » large fortune at the little theatre on the Boulevard duxemple, which for many years bore her name, and afterwards became the Delassements Comiqae*, and then purchased with her savings Voltaire's house and grounds at Ferney, but was very soon obliged to sell it, and during the latter years of her life was in great poverty. Only four years ago she danced

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