in the nineteenth by introducing a Schools Inspection Bill.

AN interesting anecdote about Mazzini appears in a new book just published in Paris under the title of "Le Dernier des Napoléons." Sir James Hudson, then British Ambassador at Turin, once requested Cavour to give an audience to an English traveller who had just arrived. The Minister received his visitor very early in the morning, as was his custom. After the usual courtesies had been exchanged, the "Englishman" described to Cavour a deep-laid plan which he had conceived for the restoration of Italian independence. Cavour was astonished at the boldness and thoughtful foresight shown by his interlocutor, and expressed his regret at not being sufficiently conversant with the English language to enter fully into all details of the scheme. The stranger then went over the

whole plan in the purest and most elegant Italian. As he was taking his leave, Cavour said to him- You talk politics like Macchiavel, and Italian like Manzoni. If I had a countryman like yourself, I would gladly give up to him my place as President of the Ministry. Pray tell me what I can do for you?" "If such a man as I were your countryman," was the reply, "you would sentence him to death. If you wish to show your appreciation of my advice, carry it out, and liberate Italy. So far, at least, the protection of Sir James Hudson will suffice for me." The stranger then left the room, first handing his card to Cavour, who read on it with amazement the name of Mazzini.

IN a book called "La Police de Paris Devoilée," a curious sketch is given of the origin of public gaming-tables in the capital, and the corruption they encouraged. They were first started by M. de Sartines, Minister of Police under Louis XV., whose valet, the author takes occasion to inform us, had forty thousand francs a year. M. de Sartines established these seductive caverns, as they were called, on the specious pretext of assembling all the chevaliers d'industrie, so that they might be well known to his agents. A number of women of loose morality purchased the privilege of keeping these tripots: there was Latour, the daughter of the President d'Aligre's lackey; Cardonne, a washerwoman from Versailles, who was a mother at thirteen years of age: Dufrène, a flower girl from Lyons, and other ladies of the kind, who used to share the spoil with the "executioners," as the sharpers were then termed. There were fifteen of these caverns in various quarters of Paris; each table,"to give it an appearance of respectability," paid three thousand francs per month to the poor, and the houses were under the control of a cashier-general called Gombeau. Before these tripots had been long at work ladies of every rank solicited the privilege of setting up an establishment, and the ambassador of Venice, taking advantage of his inviolability, kept a very productive tripot in his private hotel. The working-classes, adds the author, were received and played in a place appropriately called l'enfer. The houses authorized by M. de Sartines remained open till the Revolution, and they were re-established by Napoleon, for what purpose may be easily imagined. That they improved the general morality of the country in the days of Louis XV. is very doubtful, notwithstanding that the tables passed into the possession of ladies of rank, who worked them by means of agents.

YOUNG ladies who insist on going to evening parties when they are afflicted with colds, notwithstanding the insufficiency of their clothing and the inclemency of the weather, should read "A Case in Comparative Pathology" given by a correspondent of the London Lancet, from which they will see that a chimpanzee in the Zoological Gardens, by carefully following the directions of his medical advisers, and exhibiting an amount of common-sense too often, alas! not to be witnessed in human circles, succeeded in warding off the consequences of an illness which, if neglected, would no doubt have been attended with fatal results. It

appears that this animal, who, although barely two years old, is endowed with the intelligence of a monkey of riper years, caught a violent cold and cough during a frosty night in January, attended with loss of appetite, a high pulse, and other feverish symptoms. At first the monkey wisely restricted its diet, taking only grapes, orange-juice, and a little milk. As, however, the urgent symptoms increased, it was persuaded to take small doses of liquor of acetate of ammonia, with ipecacuanha wine and aromatic spirit of ammonia, every four hours, and also to wear a "linseed-meal jacket poultice" round its chest for an hour or two at a time, three or four times a day, at other times wearing a flannel band and a cloth jacket. Although it derived some relief from this treatment, yet in a day or two it became worse, and was at last reduced to such a state of weakness that it could only lie on its back or one side with its paws open, as if too exhausted to make any effort at all. Disliking its cough mixture, it was given ipecacuanha wine in its milk; but, the exhaustion increasing, a teaspoonful of brandy was substituted for the ipecacuanha wine, and added to its milk each time it took it. For some days it remained in a listless state, merely presenting one of its feet to any acquaintance who visited it, but evidently liking to be attended to and nursed. It is most gratifying to learn that a steady adherence to this treatment of poultices and brandy and milk resulted at the end of a few days in a change for the better; and, although for some little time it would take no solid food, except from the keeper's mouth, yet its appetite gradually improved, and in about three weeks, though much thinner and weaker than before its illness, it was in excellent spirits, and is now not only able to climb its ladder, but as lively as ever." If this young monkey had insisted on going out in the evening in a low dress, instead of remaining quietly at home in a "linseed-meal jacket poultice," the Zoological Society would probably have had to deplore its loss.

is

66

THEODOR GOLDSTUCKER, the foremost Sanskrit scholar in the world, whose death was announced last week, was born in Königsberg, in Prussia; he began the study of Sanskrit, for the profound knowledge of which he has since become so famous throughout the world, under Prof. Peter Von Bohlen, at the university of that town. He continued this study under Profs. August Wilhelm von Schlegel and Christian Lassen at Bonn, where he was a contemporary of the late Prince Consort. He afterwards resided for some time at Paris, where he enjoyed the friendship of men of the greatest distinction, such as Burnouf, Letronne, &c. He then habilitated himself at the University of Berlin, where he began soon to display great scholarly activity. Alexander Von Humboldt formed already at that time a very high estimate of the capacities of the young scholar, whose aid, in several very difficult questions of Indian philosophy, he gratefully acknowledged in his "Kosmos." Goldstücker assembled round himself a circle of ardent young men, whom he succeeded in inspiring with his love for the language and the land of the Vedas, and many of whom have arrived at great eminence since as Sanskrit scholars. It was owing to his great love and devotion to his favorite science that, in 1850, he came to England, where he resided ever since, having soon after received the appointment as Professor to the Chair of Sanskrit at University College. The late Professor carried conscientiousness and modesty to such an extreme degree that the learned world will hardly ever know what it has lost through his death. His published works are very few, and the greatest undertaken by him, the Sanskrit Dictionary, which assumed under his hands the form of a gigantic treasury, in which the words of the printed as well as of the unprinted Sanskrit literature were to be recorded, will also remain a torso. The earliest work undertaken by Goldstücker was the translation into German of the Prabodha Chandrodaya, a theologico-philosophical drama, by Krischna Micra, to which Prof. Rozenkranz wrote preface. In 1861 he published as an introduction to a facsimile edition of the Manava-Kalpa-Sutra, an investigation

a

of some literary and chronological questions, which may be settled by a study of Panini's work, under the title of "Panini: His Place in Sanskrit Literature." Goldstücker also edited the text of the Jaiminiya-NyâyaMâlâ-Vistara, of which work four hundred pages in large quarto are in type. In 1866 Prof. Goldstücker started the Sanskrit Text Society, under the patronage of his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, and under the presidency of the Duc d'Aumale. His very last labor in the public service, and one which he has left nearly completed, is a photo-lithographic facsimile edition of Patanjali's great commentary on Panini's Grammatical Sutras, called Mahabashya, for which the funds had been voted with great liberality by the Indian Government. We are indebted to Trubner's American and Oriental Literary Rec ord valuable publication for these facts concerning the great

scholar.

a most

THE Calcutta correspondent of the Times has been permitted to publish a long extract from the journal of Maj. Burne, Lord Mayo's private secretary, and from this we extract the following graphic passage, describing the Viceroy's murder:

'On the party approaching the landing-place it began to get very dark. The convict authorities sent up a few torches to light them on their way, but the Viceroy ordered the torch-bearers to keep well to the front, as he disliked the smell and smoke. On reaching the huts near the landing-place, a line of men was observed drawn up on the left of the Viceroy and his party, under some convict overseers. These, Maj.-Gen. Stewart explained, were bearers of Maj.-Gen. Stewart's, whom he had selected and ordered over from Ross Island to carry the Countess of Mayo and her party up the hill the following morning. The Viceroy and his party passed this line of men at about a quarter to seven, and immediately afterwards reached the pier, which was a narrow one, with somewhat steep stone sides. When within about fifteen yards of the boat, Maj.-Gen. Stewart, with the Viceroy's permission, momentarily left his side to speak to one of the European overseers, standing by, with reference to some arrangements of the following morning. It was now quite dark. I was at that moment walking some paces to the left of the Viceroy; the armed escort was close to him on either side, and the remainder of the police and jemadars followed in the

rear.

Col. Jervois, Lieut. Hawkins, R.A., and the Viceroy's jemadar were the nearest to him in the rear, while the rest of the party were all following up at some paces distance. A few of the sailors of the Glasgow were sitting and talking at the end of the pier. The Viceroy, in order to reach the boat, took a few longer steps forward than usual, when, in an instant, a rushing noise was heard, and a man was seen fastened like a tiger on the Viceroy's back. The whole occurrence was momentary, and took place in almost total darkness. The assassin, who was a tall muscular Khyberee Afreedee, seemed to have the Viceroy in some manner immovably in his grasp, and inflicted the wound so instantaneously as not to give him time to turn round and defend himself. The whole party rushed on the assassin, and instantly secured him; alas, not till he had inflicted two mortal wounds. The Viceroy ran a few paces forward, turned to his left, and fell over the pier into some shallow water. I left the assassin and immediately ran to his Excellency's help while struggling in the water, and assisted him out. After conveying him to the steam launch, they made all haste to get to the Glas gow. It was a dreadful twenty minutes of agony for all present. Although none of the party could at the moment form any idea of the nature of the wounds, they saw a marked and alarming change come over his face after they had lifted him into the boat. Mr. Hawkins, Capt. Lockwood, and Maj-Gen. Stewart supported the Viceroy's head, while I assisted the jemadar, rubbed his legs, and endeavored to keep up warmth. Others watched the wounds in order to stop further flow of blood, while all eagerly urged the sailors to press on with haste to the ship. Every moment was of value. We all imagined that the Viceroy had fainted from loss of blood, and we would have given our lives for a little brandy for him. But during these dreadful moments, on nearing the ship, Maj.-Gen. Stewart turned to me, shook his head, and said, 'I fear the worst.' The Viceroy's face had changed, but none of us thought he had actually breathed his last. He had not given one sigh or expression of pain from first to last, but he must have expired at the moment of Maj.Gen. Stewart's exclamation."

MULTUM IN PARVO. - Messrs. L. Prang & Co. have just published a sheet densely crowded with information that everybody desires to have always at hand. Schem's Universal Statistical Table contains the most important statistical facts relating to all the countries of the world, such as the area of each country, form of government and head of the same, population, expenses, debt, paper money, amount of circulation, standing army, navy, merchant vessels, imports, exports, chief produce, coins and their value in gold, weights and measures, railroads, telegraphs, capitals and principal cities, together with number of inhabitants, &c.

The number of interesting and noteworthy facts condensed here in so small a compass is almost incredible, and their arrangement is very convenient for reference and comparison.

A similar German publication, edited by Dr. Otto Hubner, in Frankfort, and upon which this is based, has run already through twenty yearly editions. The name of Prof. Schem, the American editor, is a sufficient guarantee that the work has been done thoroughly and conscientiously.

VOL. I.]

LE MINISTRE MALGRÉ LUI.

A CONTEMPORARY STORY,

I.

HEN young Telemachus was undergoing his competitive examination for the kingship of Crete, one of the questions set him was to define a happy man, and the wise Mentor who stood behind to prompt him; conformably to a practice since abolished in competitive examinations, bade him answer that the really happy man was he who considered himself so. Admitting this definition to be correct, then M. le Comte Fortuné de Ris, deputy of the National Assembly, who rented a first-floor flat in a house of the Boulevard Malesherbes, Paris, where no cats or parrots were kept, was the happiest man out. He had every thing to make him happy, and sense enough to know it, a handsome face, good figure, fine health, an income larger than people suspected, though he passed for rich, — and no profession, save that of enjoying himself, which is a pleasant profession when one succeeds in it. In age, M. de Ris was two and forty, but looked younger; in complexion, florid and jovial; in stature, the same height as other Frenchmen. In a general way he was blithe-tempered, witty, and so thoroughly agreeable with women that he numbered more of them on the list of his intimate friends than would have sufficed for the vanity of ten less favored beings, even supposing these ten to have been covetous.

But M. de Ris was not happy because Nature had ordained it so beforehand, just as she settles for us whether we shall have brown hair or red. He was happy because for the conduct of his life he had laid down certain simple rules which experience had taught him gave happiness to others, and which he never transgressed. In the first place, he never spoke ill of people, but suffered them to think that he admired them sincerely all round: an illusion which did them no harm nor him either. In the next place, he always kept his word, a surer recipe for contentment than many persons appear to imagine, though it must be stated that he avoided such rash promises as swearing to love one woman eternally, or vowing that he would never shake hands with such-and-such a friend again if he did this or that that was contrary to the public mood. M. de Ris's third rule was to render as many services as he could, and always to do so in such an enthusiastic way as to make the person obliged esteem that it was he, the recipient, who conferred the favor by accepting it, and that the donor was touched to the heart, overjoyed and proud beyond measure, at so much condescension. This, after mature reflection, was the only mode M. de Ris had been able to devise for preventing that each benefit conferred should become a cause of un lying enmity. By leading persons to believe that in accepting his money and not returning it they were placing him under a lasting obligation, he had put matters upon a footing satisfactory and honorable to both parties. The count's fourth and most important rule absolute was to eschew politics.

Now this, for a deputy of the Assembly, was rather a knotty problem; but M. de Ris was not a deputy through any fault of his own. He had been returned in the winter of 1871, after the capitulation of Paris, when an assembly had

[No. 16.

been hastily convoked to meet at Bordeaux, and constituencies were selecting the most popular men they could find, without much reference to their tastes or their fitness. M. de Ris was nominated by the electoral committee of the department in which he owned a country seat, and had been returned out of hand. He was much chagrined by this result, which was communicated to him before he had yet left Paris, where, during the seige, he had fought with distinction as a commandant of Gardes Mobiles. His first impulse was to send in his resignation, and it is even said that his letter on this subject was ready signed and sealed; but somebody pointed out to him so eloquently that in times of trouble a man owes willing service to his country, and somebody else produced such telling arguments to show that a deputy need not know more about politics than any ordinary man, that M. de Ris gave in. He took his seat at Bordeaux in the very centre of the Assembly, - so centrally, indeed, that if you had drawn a string from Pres. Grévy's chair right across the chamber, you would have found Count de Ris at the end of it. This meant that he was a neutral; that between Henry V., the Count of Paris, Napoleon III., and the republic, he had no choice whatever; and that on every occasion where his vote was called for he intended recording it in such a way as not to compromise him. This was rather like tight-rope dancing, but M. de Ris's logic on the subject was unanswerable. If I make a se

66

lection," said he, "before I know which of the four is going to win, I shall be obliged to adhere to it during the rest of my life under pain of being thought a renegade, which is absurd. The Count of Chambord is a prince of great honor, whom I venerate; the Count of Paris could hold his own in point of intelligence with any sovereign or president in Christendom; Napoleon III. was always extremely gracious to me, and decorated me with his own hand without my having ever asked for such a favor; the empress also is charming; as for the republic, to declare myself an antirepublican is to say that I don't believe we French are capable of governing ourselves, which is an opinion only good for foreigners." The party-whips endeavored to shake this neutralism by adroit flatteries, and the party-wits to undermine it by banter; but M. de Ris was impervious to flattery; and, when tackled by a wit, he put his case in a nut-shell by saying, "I know four ladies of equal beauty, - the Marquise de Rosecroix, who is a Legitimist; the Countess de Potofeu, who holds for Louis Philippe II.; the Baroness de Diamantelle, who is enamoured of the Napoleons; and Mme. Garrulet, the deputy's wife, who is a Republican. If I were to enlist on the side of one of these ladies, the doors of the other three would be closed to me; and that I do not want." Whereat the wit would laugh, and let M. de Ris alone. In France they always let a man alone who knows how to defend himself.

It should be mentioned in passing, that M. de Ris's independence was not quite the effect of political poltroonery, though a foreigner might have opined that there was a strong spice of this foible flavoring it. His was rather the eclecticism and sceptic epicureanism of politics. He thought there was something good to be said for every party, and said it. He also thought that to pin one's faith to a set of doctrines which may be as unwearable in a year as last twelvemonth's fashions, to cast in one's lot with a particular dynasty or system which may be less long of life than a deciduous leaf, is the act neither of a clever man nor of a

wise one. There was a friend of his, who, towards the close of Louis Philippe's reign, had taken an undue interest in the Pritchard indemnity case. Every time the name of Pritchard was mentioned, this hot-headed patriot foamed at the mouth, rolled flaming eyeballs, and launched such fulminating declamations against the policy of M. Guizot, that he ended by exasperating a supporter of that statesman, who called him out, and wounded him so badly that his right leg had to be amputated. Alas! who remembers the Pritchard case now? The hot-headed and crippled patriot stumped through life, bitterly anathematizing the day when he was induced to part with his leg for a cause about which nobody cared a pin six months after it had been settled, and which went clean out of the public mind long before the victim of it had learned to do without crutches. This example had always struck M. de Ris most powerfully. He often thought of what it would be if he himself were to lose his leg in over-zealous debate; and though he was not a fearer of duels, having fought several without much detriment to himself or his adversaries, he caused the name "Pritchard" to be neatly set in red enamel on a locket which he usually wore at his watch-chain; and every time he felt tempted to take an excited part in politics he consulted this locket, learning thereby the great and prudent lesson that half the questions which set men by the ears are not worth the breath that is wasted on them. There was another excellent and cogent reason for M. de Ris's abstention, which was this: Rich, young, and clever as he was (for he was clever, and had been told it so often that he really had some excuse for being modestly conscious of it), he could not, had he joined a political party, have remained one of the ruck. He must have come to the front; and, had his party triumphed, he must have risen to power, which of all things in the world was what he most dreaded. As a private nobleman he could pick his society as he pleased; flit about from palace to green-room; be on intimate terms with princes and artists, opera-singers or bishops; lift his hat on a race-course within the same five minutes to a duchess and a ballet-girl; and, in a word, wherever he went, cotton with the pleasantest people, without feeling under any obligation to shake the hand of wheezy retired grocers because they were champions of the ministry, or listen to the emetic-like blandishments of semi-official journalists. Once a minister or an ex-minister, however, all this would be changed. Even if he had held office but a day he must go on stilts to the hour of his death, be on the alert about his dignity, and hold unimpeachably orthodox views as to the blending of liberty and order under a well-established government. This was why he so se lulously held aloof from every thing that resembled an opinion. This was why he always kept a quiverful of repartees ready for those who sought to insnare him; and this is why the head and front of his ambition amounted only to this, to continue leading to his dying day the untroubled and amusing life he had lived ever since he was his own master.

However, it is not in the vastness of our wishes, but in the intensity of them, even when moderate, that lies the danger of disappointment; and we introduce M. de Ris on a morning of last autumn when there happened to him one of those grievous things which prove how utterly vain are all human calculations.

It was about nine o'clock. Wrapped in a velvet dressing-gown, the count was seated in his toilet-room, opposite a bright fire of beech logs, and looking out of the window to watch cosily the rime of October's frost being melted off the trees by the early sun. This was not in Paris, but at the count's country-seat, distant about two hours by rail from town, an agreeable place, made up of mediæval picturesqueness and modern comfort, and situated in a district where revolutions and issues of tenpenny bank-notes had no effect upon the inhabitants. The count was staying there for a couple of days' rest between two visits to the shooting-boxes of indefatigable Nimrod friends; and, having arrived late the evening before, he had luxuriated in bed this morning rather longer than was his wont when within gunshot of well-stocked coverts. M. Narcisse, his confidentil valet, entered with a tray bearing his master's choco

late, newspapers, and letters, and laid these things on a hand-table near the arm-chair. Then, this done, he said, with that lively and irrepressible tendency to converse which one had better not discourage in a French servant under pain of rendering him sulky, "What a morning, M. le Comte! I suppose M. le Comte intends going over the estate?"

"I suppose I must, Narcisse," smiled his master, showing not much disposition to move, but rather drawing nearer to the fire; and he took another glance at the window. "These rounds of inspection to poultry-yards and pig-troughs are rounds of tribulation, Narcisse. You must lay me out my thickest boots, the yellow gaiters, and the velveteen coat. I am not likely to meet anybody."

"Your neighbor, Mme. de Claire, arrived at the Château de Beaupré last night, M. le Comte," answered Narcisse, quite discreetly.

It was the forte of M. Narcisse, was discretion; for all which he was a brisk valet, with eyebrows, like two circumflex accents, which gave him a perpetual air of astonishment, also a trick of doing every thing in a headlong way, as if he were haunted by the constant vision of express-trains about to start without him.

"Eh? Mme. de Claire is at the Castle?" ejaculated M. de Ris, rousing himself completely at the name which his servant had pronounced, and casting a third and much more wide-awake glance at the window. "Ah! I see the sun is shining, Narcisse; so, instead of the velveteen, perhaps I may as well air that new shooting-suit I have not yet worn: and-stay as to the boots, I won't have the thickest,not the thickest of all, I mean those with the nails - a medium pair will do."

M. Narcisse was just then bustling about the room at the rate of ten miles the hour, and setting out razors, strop, and shaving-brush on the dressing-table as if an imaginary guard had just rung the train-bell for an instantaneous departure. He finished his precipitate work to his satisfaction, and then vanished to fetch the suit that had never been worn and the boots that were not the thickest. M. de Ris, the while, left alone, and still thinking apparently of Mme. de Claire, gazed pensively for a short space into the fire. His reverie

which seemed to be a not unpleasant one-may have lasted a couple of minutes; then he turned to his chocolate and his letters, slowly stirring the one in its cup, and examining the envelopes of the others before opening them.

The count's gallant proclivities brought so many feminine missives into his hands, that there was nothing novel in the fact that four out of the seven letters on his tray should be in ladies' writing. There were two mauve envelopes, a primrose, and a pale blue one, all addressed in that cramped and pointed calligraphy which speaks of the hard sharpness of French steel nibs, these instruments seeming indeed specially designed by Providence to check the torrents of correspondence which would flow from a Frenchwoman's mind if only the native pens would glide more smoothly over the paper. M. de Ris read his letters attentively; and it looked as if they entertained him, for he was nearly three quarters of an hour over them. At the conclusion he took out of a Dresden bowl, shaped like a dog's head, enough Turkish tobacco to roll himself a cigarette, and prepared for the other epistles, one of which he recognized as coming from a friend who wrote with energy about Croatian questions, another as a tradesman's circular, and the third of which he now observed for the first time was not stamped but franked.

There must have been something very foreboding about the look of this list envelope; for at sight of it the count stopped half way in his cigarette work, and began with sudden but rapidly-growing apprehension to turn the letter over between his fingers. How had he come not to notice before that the envelope was one of those whitey-brown ones in which government correspondence is sent? that the post-mark was "Versailles"? and that the seal bore the private crest of an extremely great personage under the republic? He changed color slightly. What could it be? The Assembly was not sitting then, so it could not enclose a letter of convocation. The extremely great personage

MY DEAR COUNT DE RIS,

As you have heard, the ministership for the Cochin-China colonies has just become vacant, and I write without delay to offer you the post. It has given me very great satisfaction to observe how, amid the interested strife of parties, you have acknowledged no flag but patriotism, and have constantly seconded the government by your firm and enlightened votes; it has also been a no small source of pleasure to me to perceive that your excellent example has been followed by other members of the Assembly, who have grouped themselves round you, and now look up to you as their leader. In this time of national mourning, when the efforts of all good citizens should be directed towards the regeneration of their country, the qualities which recommend a minister are essentially those which you possess, — impartiality, amiability, and zeal for the public good; also, antecedents free from ties to any political factions or individual. I am well aware that in asking you to undertake duties fraught with great responsibility, and entailing a large sacrifice of daily time and anxiety, I am making a heavy demand, without having any adequate return to offer save the opportunity of widening your sphere of public usefulness. But I do not hesitate; because the more arduous the labor and the less the reward, so much the greater I know will be your tendency to accept Trusting, therefore, that I may have the gratification of hearing an affirmative reply from your own lips at Versailles to-morrow, I beg you to believe, my dear Count de Ris, in the assurance of my high regard.

And here followed the signature.

Now, this was pleasant. As the crowning result of twenty years' careful strategy, it was worth commending to those who believe in the science of life. The count stood for a moment like a man who has turned up the two of spades when he wanted the ace of diamonds, and the unlucky letter weighed down his hand to his side as if it had been written on sheet-lead. He looked so stunned, that, on M. Narcisse re-appearing with the suit that had never been worn and the medium boots, that domestic gave a start, and exclaimed, "Dear me! Is there any thing the matter? Is M. le Comte ill?"

To which the count, shaking off his torpor, replied with an abrupt vehemence which made M. Narcisse's eyebrows stand up more circumflexly than ever, "Matter! Yes: every thing is the matter. Do you know what a minister is?"

M. Narcisse stood dangling the boots in his right hand, and pressing the clothes to his heart with his left arm. He appeared to turn the matter over in his mind, and then answered, “A minister, M. le Comte, lives in a mansion with sentries at the door; the newspapers cut jokes at him; he has a salary of a hundred thousand francs a year; and when a revolution comes he is obliged to escape in disguise."

"Yes, that's it, -escape in disguise," answered the count grimly, as this new feature in a minister's privileges recurred to him. "Joked at by the papers, and escape in disguise, there you have it in ten words. Well, Narcisse, they want to make a minister of ME!"

M. Narcisse dropped both the boots, and in trying to recover them let go the clothes. When he had picked them up he looked very red, and with wonder-lit eyes said, They want to make a minister of M. le Comte? Well (here his voice broke into an excited gallop); "well, I hope monsieur will not neglect this opportunity of seeing that my brother Hyacinthe gets that post of Garde Champêtre which he has long been asking. Then there is my other brother, Jasmin, who was promised the military medal; and, as I often say, for a Government to promise and not to keep is to make men revolutionary: though, for the matter of that, I have no sympathy with the Commune nor

with M. Gambetta, whom I think is just as bad; for, as I often say, when a man stirs up the elements of popular discord, which ought never to be allowed under a strong government, and places himself at their head, he is responsible for all the breakages. And I don't think, either, that the wife of my cousin Jacques was well served by the Indemnity Commission: for it is certain that the largest of her two pigs, weighing a hundred and eighty-seven pounds, and a perfect picture, was eaten by the Prussians, who never paid, being thieves; and, as I often say, for a Government to stand such things" "At least, go

"Go to the devil!" burst in Count de Ris. and order the phaeton round in half an hour, and fetch me some visiting clothes."

II.

Less than fifty minutes after the perusal of his letter, the count was driving up the avenue that led to the Château de Beaupré, the residence of his neighbor Mme. de Claire. He had taken the most irrevocable resolution not to accept the post offered him; and during the ten minutes' ride between his own house and Beaupré Park, he had pondered over a dozen different forms of declinatory replies to the great personage's despatch. What did they mean by offering him a post for which he was unfitted by taste, nature, and social training? He whipped his horses with such vigor, that John, his English groom, who sat behind him and was unused to this way of dealing with high-mettled cattle, wondered what had come over the "guv'nor." Certainly there was no other answer possible to such a proposal but a courteous and decided-yes, that was it, courteous and decided no. Nevertheless the count wanted somebody

to tell him he was quite right in his resolve, to pat him morally on the back, as it were, and assure him that nothing could be more reasonable and proper than his conduct; and this is why he called upon Mme. de Claire, of whose good sense he had the best opinion.

The Baroness de Claire was the widow of a nobleman considerably older than herself, who had died, leaving her a large fortune. She was twenty-eight, and a woman of great beauty and tact, who exercised a queen's sway over the whole department, and whom M. de Ris classed quite apart when dividing his feminine acquaintances into categories. If Mme. de Claire had been less graceful, less sweet-tempered, less eminently womanlike, she might have passed for a strong-minded woman; for her thoughts were not cast in those common-place moulds which fabricate thoughts by the hundred thousand on a uniform pattern for common-place people. But as something of the notion of ill-cut gowns, and down on the upper lip, attaches to the term strong-minded," in reference to ladies, Mme. de Claire did not deserve the epithet. She was all that a woman should be; and if men could have coined a new word to express the blending of all that is amiable and good, with what is sensible and clever, they would have inaugur ated it in her honor.

66

She

She was in a morning-room when the count was introduced, and exquisitely dressed in a peignoir of buff cashmere, with wide trimming of white lace round the edges, and loose sleeves, and a lace scarf round the waist. In the rich clusters of her black hair she had set a scarlet rose, and a small cross of black pearls that hung to a velvet ribbon served to show off the snowy outline of her throat. was arranging flowers in a Japanese vase; and beside her, with her tiny dimpled chin resting on the table's edge, stood Mile. Lucie, her daughter, a little mite of a thing four years old, who held her apron full of the dew-wet flowers, and handed them up one by one to her mother as they were wanted. There was an air of home and gayety about the tastefully furnished room which offered many a pretty knicknack for the sun to try its golden arrows on; and through the muslin curtains, which were closed to prevent the ingress of autumn wasps, who might have waged war on Miss Lucie, came a fresh, healthy scent of morning, with twittering of blithesome sparrows.

The servant announced "Monsieur le Comte de Ris,"