he however, offers you twenty-four livres a-piece, and you will be paid immediately." These words excited shouts of applause, and those to whom they were addressed followed Billaud-Varrenes into the committee to receive the payment which he had promised them. But here a difficulty arose." Where shall we find the funds," said the president to Billaud, to pay this debt? Billaud replied by again eulogizing the massacres, and declared that the minister of the interior ought to have money to be expressly devoted to this purpose. The crowd then immediately hastened to the house of Roland, but he sent them back with indignation, and refused to listen to their demands. The assassins, thus disappointed, returned to the committee, and threatened its members with instant death if they were not immediately paid the wages of their crimes; every one, therefore, was obliged to contribute from his private pocket, and they at last departed satisfied. The commune afterwards repaid these contributors; and several other sums, dedicated to the same purposes, may be seen entered in the account books: 1,463 francs were paid to the executioners up to the date of the 4th of September.

A SURPRISING INSTANCE OF GRATITUDE AND SAGACITY
IN AN ELEPHANT.

An elephant that had been very often fed, and kindly treated by an herbwoman, belonging to the market of Dehli, the capital of Indostan, once passed through the market when it was very outrageous, sparing nothing that came in its way; it accordingly drove on with the utmost fury, throwing down and trampling upon all those it met, until the daughter of the herb-woman, a little child that could scarce crawl along, happened to come in its way. Its rage immediately subsided: it took up the child gently upon its proboscis, and laying it upon a shed hard by, where it might be out of harm's way, proceeded with the same fury as before.

REVOLUTIONARY VIRTUE!

Nothing can be more striking than the following instances of integrity and virtue related by Mr. Christie, in his "Letters on the Revolution in France;" an instance, which does singular honor to the populace of that country:

At the period when several persons had been put to death in Paris without trial, or reckoning, and at that moment when the fury of the populace appears to have been raised to its highest pitch, one of their number having taken an opportunity of stealing, was instantly detected, and punished on the spot by his incensed brethren. The same spirit reigned through all. In the great mob at Rouen, while Mr. G-was in the country, the mob rummaged his house in search of grain; but finding none, they retired, without doing any mischief. Miss G told me, that she had left a few guineas in the drawer, and forgot to take out the key: she had no expectation of ever seeing them more, but her surprise was great, when she came home, found the drawers had been opened, and the money tumbled about, but not a piece missing.— A gentleman passing the Place de Grieve, offered half-a-crown to a poor citizen ill-armed, who had assisted him to get through the crowd. "Do you think of this?" replied the man: 66 money to-day is of no use, and you will see it. Who will have this half-a-crown that the gentleman offers ?" "No

money, no money," cried out the whole of his companions. At this time, say the electors of Paris, the city was wholly in the power of the people. They might have pillaged it at pleasure; but nothing of this kind happened! We walked more securely during these dreadful nights, than in the times of the spies and satellites of arbitrary power. There never was a period when Paris was so free from crimes. And, after the Bastile was taken, it was an admirable thing, say the same persons, to see the people delivering all they had taken, even to the coined money. The spoils of the Bastile, and other houses, were all brought to us; gold, silver, diamonds, all were given up. "We are no thieves," said the people, "but good citizens."

REMARKABLE HISTORY OF LHAUDA.

A shepherdess becoming a queen is a very pretty incident in a fairy-tale ; but alas! for the common-places of reality, these delightful events are of rare occurrence. Such things however, have happened, and as what has been may be again, the history of La Lhauda will be quite a romance of hope to any fair shepherdess who may like to indulge in dreams of exchanging her crook for a sceptre. Amid the many admirers of the rustic beauty, the most favoured was Janin, who though, like herself, by birth a peasant, was, from being secretary to M. d'Amblerieux, considerably above her in present station and future expectation. Claudine had soon penetration enough to perceive that what he sought in her was a mistress, not a wife. This was a mortifying discovery to one accustomed to consider her hand the highest pledge of happiness;-piqued vanity is a sure guard to woman's virtue; and day after day passed, and Janin found La Lhauda colder then ever. It was in vain he told her, love without kisses was a garden without flowers; "I would imitate the moon," said she, "which receives the light of the sun, yet avoids him, through day and night his course is around her." When alone, she soliloquized bitterly on the hesitation of her lover: " Why does he not marry me? I am fifteen, nay, actually near sixteen ;-must I wait till I am thirty? Sweeping my father's house, managing the household of others, my companions will be all wedded before me. Does Janin think I cannot get a husband?-he shall see he is mistaken." Janin's jealousy was soon raised; fear accomplished what love could not; and his offer of marriage was accepted coldly by Claudine, with pleasure by her father, discontent by her mother, who, to the great displeasure of her husband, has higher views for her daughter, and recurs to the prediction of a gypsy, that the child was born to be a queen. However, the marriage-day is named, when the secretary thinks it necessary to introduce his intended bride to his master, who becomes deeply enamoured of the beautiful peasant. Janin, under pretence of pressing business, is sent out of the way, and M. d'Amblerieux, in the presence of her mother, offers La Lhauda his hand, giving them the next day to reflect on his proposal. Thièvena scarcely waited for his departure to begin expatiating on her honours in perspective. "Ah, my dear Claudine, think of sitting in the old family pew; and how the curate will present the incense to you at high mass; to overhear as you pass, 'That is Madame d'Amblerieux who is coming in-Madame d'Amblerieux who is going out -Madame d'Amblerieux-Room for Madame d'Amblerieux-long live Madame d'Amblerieux! And what an honour for me to say, Madame d'Amblerieux, my daughter!" She was here interrupted by Claudine's remarking on the age of her present lover; and while exerting all her eloquence

to remove what seemed so trifling an objection, in comes Pierro, who, far from entering into her grand schemes, puts a decided negative on the marriage. I will have no son-in-law," said La Lhauda's father, "at whose table I cannot take my seat without ceremony, and who will come and do the same at mine. I hate your fine people who eat up your wheat, without knowing the cost of its sowing or reaping; to whom he must always give the first place and the best bit; and who declare open war upon you, unless their rabbits are let quietly to eat up your best cabbages and lettuces. Accustomed to act the great lady, my child will soon forget all that was once her duty and and happiness. Lhauda living, will yet be dead to us. The husband for her to please me, will be a man who works for the bread he eats." M. d'Amblerieux was not to be discouraged by this refusal; making Thièvena and Claudine his confidants, introduces himself disguised as a labouring man to Pierro, and under the name of Lucas becomes such a favourite as to be promised the hand of La Lhauda. The discovery is soon made, and by all married gentlemen the denouncement may be easily anticipated-his wife and M. d'Amblerieux carry the day. The news soon got spread about; the marriage was wondered at, sneered at, cavilled at, disputed about, attacked, defended, till it came to the ears of Janin, who had from time to time been detained on various pretences at Lyons. The lover arrives at the village the very day of the wedding; music, the ringing of bells, sounds of the rejoicing fill every place-one and all confirm the tale. The cottage of Pierro is deserted, and at the castle he is repulsed as an impostor, assuming a name to which he has no title. There is no hatred like the hatred of love; with his sling in his hand, the miserable Janin remains concealed in the gardens of the Chateau. At length his perfidious mistress, and her still more perfidious husband, pass by;-a stone is thrown, which glances against a tree; La Lhauda alone perceives the hand from which it came. If M. d'Amblerieux returned to the castle infuriated against the unknown assassin, his bride was no less, though differently agitated. The characters of first love can never be wholly effaced; like the name Sostratus graved on the Pharos, plaster might for a while conceal it, but still the original traces remained; and Claudine had really loved Janin. His letters had all been suppressed; accounts of his careless dissipation had been studiously conveyed to her. But here was a fearful proof-how wildly and how well she had been remembered; and with woman there is no crime equal to that of forgetting her; no virtue like that of fidelity. Janin continued wandering about till night; the sound of music had gradually died away; one light after another was extinguished, till the castle became dark as the starless heaven that surrounded it. He was standing on the brink of a precipice over which a foaming torrent rushed; it was close by the castle. Should he throw himself from it, his body would the next morning float on the stream before the window of the bride. Discharging a pistol he carried into the midst of the accumulated snows above, he threw himself into the abyss of waters. A terrible avalanche instantly followed; the noise awoke all in the castle, but to Claudine the report of the pistol was the most deadly sound of all. It soon fell out as Pierro had foreseen-he was sent to his vineyard, and his wife to her household; and La Lhauda's visits to her parents were seldom and secret. She was soon released from every constraint by the death of M. d'Amblerieux, who left her all he possessed. Her first use of riches was to secure independence to her parents, and to erect a modest monument to the memory of Janin. It was of white marble, representing a veiled female throwing flowers into an empty urn. Her low birth furnished a pretext to the re

lations of M. d'Amblerieux for disputing her marriage and her rights to the succession. A journey to Paris became necessary; young and beautiful, Madame d'Amblerieux was soon in no want. of powerful protectors. The Marshal de L'Hopital, seventy-five years of age, was one of the most active. His influence was amply sufficient to turn the scale of justice in her favour; but he deemed it necessary to have a right to interfere. He well knew the malice and wicked wit about the court; people might suspect he had his reasons—a connexion might be supposed, and he should be in despair at hazarding the reputation of one as prudent as she was fair. These one-word-for-my-neighbour and two-for-myself kind of fears would have only appeared ridiculous to Madame d'Amblerieux, had not the rank of the Marshal backed his scruples. Again interest took the place of love in leading her to the altar. L' Hopital soon followed in the steps of his predecessor, and in the course of a few months La Lhauda was again a youthful and lovely widow. The exultation of her mother was now beyond all bounds: "My daughter Madame la Marechale de L'Hopital" was the beginning and ending of almost every sentence. But Pierro could not forget that the elevation of his daughter involved her séparation from him. A Prince, who had in turn been jesuit, cardinal, and king, John Casimir the second of Poland, having abdicated, was then residing in France at the Abbey St. Germain-des Pres, which Louis the 14th had given him. This Prince, no longer jesuit or king, but the gay and gallant man of the world, saw the lovely Marechale, and succeeded in winning her heart and losing his own. A fortunate but conscientious lover, he married his mistress privately. The secret was soon betrayed, and though publicly she had not the title of Queen, yet every one knew she was wife to the King of Poland. The tidings reached her native village-her mother died of joy, her father of grief; and John Casimir soon followed, leaving La Lhauda with one daughter, whom his family always refused to acknowledge. Such was the end of three marriages contracted and dissolved in the short space of fifteen years. La Lhauda's good fortune was not left as a heritage to her descendants-she lived to see them returning to her own former obscurity. Many of the old men in Grenoble can remember a little Claudine, who used to solicit public charity with the words, "Pray give alms to the grand-daughter of the King of Poland!" What a vicissitude to "point a moral and adorn a tale!" This history is well remembered in the little village of Bachet near Huglau, where La Lhauda was born.

THE DEAD ALIVÉ.

Dr. Dobbs, who was a physician of eminence at Younghall, a seaport town in the county of Cork, used frequently to take a walk on the strand by the seaside to collect shells, coral, &c. He happened one morning, on passing by the door of a hut, to observe a large concourse of people assembled for the purpose of attending to the grave the remains of a poor woman, who had (apparently) died the day before. This doctor pursuing his walk, soon got at a considerable distance from the house, but was stopped by a great uneasiness of mind, attended with a strong conviction that the person about to be interred was not dead. For a while he resisted the impulse as a matter of caprice, vague supposition, or whim, but his increasing uneasiness at last determined him to try if his feelings were right on not, and for that purpose he hastened back to the cottage. The coffin was nailed and placed under a large table,

around which several of the relations and friends of the deceased were seated, circulating the parting glass amidst noise and uproar. The doctor having begged their attention to what he had to say, informed them of the extraordinary uneasiness with which he had been affected, as also of the consequent opinion that the person, to attend whose funeral they had assembled, was not dead, and therefore desired that he might see the body. At this unexpected address some laughed heartily, whilst others were displeased, and insisted that as the time fixed for moving the corpse was arrived, it should be immediately taken out; upon which the doctor finding but little was done by gentle means, had immediate recourse to another expedient. He told them that several there knew him to be a medical man, that men of his profession had an undoubted right to see for themselves in such cases, and, in short. that if they moved the corpse he would call them to a severe account at some future time. This remonstance having had the proper effect, the coffin was opened, and the doctor, putting his hand under the small of her back, declared that the woman was not dead; he then ordered her to be taken out of the coffin and put into a warm bed, which was immediately done, and in a short time there appeared evident signs of returning life.

The doctor attended her closely for several hours, and had the pleasure, before he left the house, to see his patient in a fair way of recovery, In a few days she was able to wait upon the doctor at his own house in Younghall, and, after the first infusions of gratitude were over, made him the tender of a fee; but he told her that as what he had done was from a sudden impression and sense of duty, he would not take it. The poor woman was quite distressed by his refusal, and signified she could not be happy without he permitted her to make some return for the trouble he had experienced on her account; upon which the doctor consented that (as he knew she was a good knitter) she should every year bring him a pair of knit woollen gloves on the anniversity of her deliverance; this proposal the poor woman gladly acceded, and (I have the pleasure to add) made the annual offering of gratitude many times.

NOBLE BROTHERLY CONTEST.

The Emperor Augustus having taken Adiatoriges, a Prince of Cappadocia, together with his wife and children, in war, and led them to Rome in triumph, gave orders that the father and the elder of the brothers should be slain. The ministers of execution, on coming to the place of confinement, inquired which was the eldest? On this, there arose an earnest contention between the two young princes, each of them affirming himself to be the elder, that by his own death he might preserve the life of his brother. When they had continued this heroic and fraternal emulation for some time, the afflicted mother with much difficulty prevailed on her son Dytentus, that he would permit his younger brother to die in his stead, hoping, that by him she might still be sustained. When Augustus was told of this example of brotherly love, he regretted his severity, and gave an honorable support to the mother and her surviving son.

DREADFUL MASSACRE ON BOARD A SOUTH SEA WHALER.

The following details of a most barbarous massacre, which occurred on board the South-sea whaler the Elizabeth (just arrived at Deptford), while