body, and the regiment marched on slowly and sadly to the Porte St. Denis, where new barricades, with a shower of paving stones, which rained down from the triumphal arch, stopped them a second time.

The grenadiers and artillerists black-bearded old soldiers, remained calm and immoveable; they had told each other "our last day has come." But the young lancers were bewildered under this fierce storm of stones, and every kind of new projectile which the vengeful ingenuity of the Parisians could invent. Their horses stumbled on pavements strewed with sharp flints and broken bottles; they plunged and broke their legs over the cords and chains stretched across the street; their riders were struck with a panic, and retreated at full gallop. But the path was blockaded behind them; and after they had passed the ruins of the first barricade, they saw the aged trees of the Boulevard falling before their eyes like slain giants, a verdant rampart, fearful yet beautiful to look upon.

Between the Rue St. Fiacre and the garden of M. de Lunenberg, two men were coolly sawing a huge tree, to the top of which ropes were made fast, held by others who stood ready to drag the tree down, as soon as the sawers had finished. The retreating lancers were on one side, a squadron of cuirassiers was advancing on the other; they at once broke into files, to force a passage by the side alleys, but they were watched! Men, before invisible, sprung upon them, and clung to their horses' legs. The first attacked were unhorsed at once, the others formed in order of battle and began firing on their assailants. The first shot stretched one of the two carpenters dead; the other coolly grasped the saw with both hands, and laboured on alone. The tree, nearly sawn through, and violently shaken from above, fell upon the cuirassiers. The carpenter then seized his musket, cast a last and mournful look on his dead comrade as he cocked it, and slew a captain of lancers; then, finding he would have no time to load again, he seized his musket by the barrel, raised the cry of "vive la charte! down with Charles the tenth!" and followed by four or five merchants' clerks, as bold as himself, plunged into the midst of the centaurs of the royal guard, brandishing his piece above his head. When he had regained the main body of combatants, the hero, with ten wounds, but still erect, turned and endeavoured to reload, but a ball struck him in the stomach; his eyes rolled; he fell backwards heavily and fainted, as he cried, with dying voice, "vive la charte! down with Charles the tenth!"

It was Bernard, the carpenter of the faubourg St. Antoine.

His comrades, when they saw him stretched on the pavement, gazed on each other in silence; then, all at once, by a sudden and general movement, they rushed like lightning on the horsemen. For a quarter

of an hour the struggle was desperate. Every blow told, every blow was mortal. The cuirassiers were killed with their own carbines, the lancers with their own lances, which were wrested from their hands as a plaything is from an infant. Cries of fear, of pain, of rage, and of supplication rose in confusion on the air, louder than the musket shots and the bellowing of the grape, which was sweeping the rue St. Martin. At last, vanquished, overcome, worn out with heat and fatigue, the horsemen broke their ranks and disappeared.

We all know what took place during the after part of that day and the next following one.

When the contest was over; when the song of victory and the hymn of liberty had succeeded to the clamours of rage and vengeance; while France and astonished Europe were exchanging congratulations; while, on the Palais Royal and in the suburbs, at the theatre and in the market-place, each vied with the other in magnifying the heroism of the Parisians, poor Barnard, painfully stretched on his iron couch in the hospital, suffered horrible agonies, which he forgot at times, to listen to the rest of the story from the lips of his mother and his wife. He had been there fifteen days, and had only been able to see and hear since four. When the queen of France, and Mademoiselle Adelaide, the princes, the ministers, and the monarch himself, came to visit the wards of the wounded, Bernard heard and saw nothing; a circle of fire pressed upon his brain; the bed clothes burned upon him; he was delirious, and the physicians gave him up.

The celebrated Dupuytren examined his wound; his search for the ball was unsuccessful; it was buried in the intestines. "If this man

is cured," said he, to his pupils, "it will be a case without parallel in the annals of medicine; for there is no instance where a ball lodged in this way in the body, has not caused death sooner or later."

Bernard's wound kept him six months in the hospital, between life and death; six months of convalesence and relapses, of hopes cherished and disappointed. The carpenter bore it all with angelic pa tience, like that of women, who know so well how to suffer! The idea of death did not terrify Bernard; on the contrary, it was without ter

ror that he one day overheard the assistant on duty communicate Dupuytren's opinion to the nurse. To have offered up his life for the freedom of his country; to know that one day his name would be read sculptured in letters of gold, on the brazen walls of the pantheon; that passers-by would take off their hats to his wife and child, saying, respectfully," There goes the widow of a brave man;" to be sure that the future threatened no privation for his Augustine, inasmuch as she would be a pensioner of the state, and his child be adopted by it; all these hopes of glory and happiness for those he left behind him, filled the wounded man's heart with joy, and he cried, with enthusiasm, Who would not die on such terms?"

He remained six months in the hospital, till he was thought capable of being removed.

So far everything went well, excellently well. Thanks to the subscriptions which poured in from all quarters, Augustine and her infant had not felt the want of Bernard's industry, and when squalid famine visited the faubourg St. Antoine, her frequent resort, she passed by the dwelling of the carpenter. But this ardour soon cooled. Philanthropy and patriotism were exhausted. The thing must have an end. A decoration for the living, a pension for the widows and children of the dead, and let the matter rest there. So thought some, so spoke others, and the heroes of July were admitted to prove their claims to this nicely graduated tariff of public gratitude.

The carpenter was now able to work. He sought employment. Alas! the shop he had left in July was full, and the master would not dismiss any one to make room for him. "Eight months of idleness must have spoiled you," said he. Bernard went to other masters with no better success. The capitalists had fled in terror. Paris was overflowing with labourers out of employment. Every evening, when he returned to his humble dwelling, he had to answer "No," to his wife's anxious inquiries. Tired and hungry, he opened the chest, found the scanty portion which Augustine had saved from her own and her child's food for her husband's supper-he ate without daring to complain that there was so little-he wept as he saw his child watching his meal with an envious eye-then stopped, pushed the half-emptied plate aside, and, letting his head fall upon his breast, said, in a desponding tone, "Take it for yourselves, wife, I am not hungry now," and went to bed.

The glorious dreams in which he had indulged on his sick bed returned to his mind, but full of bitterness. He saw himself driven out of Paris like an useless vagabond. He returned into his native province with his wife and child. He was turned away with the question, "What does this fellow want? Does he think we have got more than we need for ourselves?"

any

(To be continued.)

WHIRLERS!-A man went into a shop and asked if they had got "whirlers?"—that is, stockings without feet. No," said the shopkeeper, "but we have got some famous strong stockings, as will just suit such a man as you.' "Let's hae a look at 'em," said the man. The counter was immediately covered with a quantity. Having selected the largest pair, he said "What's the price of them?" "3s. 9d." "Can you cut the feet off them?" was the next query. "Oh, certainly," said the shopkeeper. No sooner said than done. The long shop shears were applied, and instantly the stockings were footless. "What's the price of 'em now?" asked the customer, with all the composure imaginable. "Price of them now!" echoed the worsted merchant, surprised beyond measure at the absurdity of the question; "3s. 9d. to be sure!" "3s. 9d. !" exclaimed the purchaser; "I never gave but one shilling and sixpence for a pair of whirlers' in my life." And he laid down the amount upon the counter. Well," replied the tradesman, chopfallen and fairly outwitted, throwing the mutilations at him, "take them, and be off with you! You've whirled' me this time, but I'll take good care that neither you nor any of your roguish gang shall do it again as long as I live.”—American Courier.

66

Whispering is more dangerous than loud speaking: the latter may instantly call up the rejoinder of truth, the former may travel on, leaving poison in its track until truth can overtake it with difficulty. The virtuous are always most liable to calumny.

ADVENTURE ON THE FROZEN OCEAN.

We continued our course in a sad plight, our minds absorbed in the dangers it was evident we should have to encounter. We crossed another chasm over a similar stone, and when down, we found ourselves upon a large berg, cut off from all communication with the rest, except in one place, and that by a passage so perilous that it seemed hopeless to attempt it. It was a narrow wasted ridge of ice, like a wall, the upper edge worn so thin by the action of the elements as to be but little thicker than a horse's backbone, though it got broader downwards; it might be twenty feet across. This my companion declared it was impossible to cross, and we sat down in mute despair. Here we were, cut off from all hope of assistance, far beyond the sight and hearing of human beings. I hallooed, but I felt at the same time how hopelessly.

In such a situation how many thoughts crowd on the mind. I thought of home and of the few still left, who might make a nine days' wonder of us whilst sitting round a bright fire, should the news ever reach them; but even that was scarcely probable: we might be seen, perhaps, but not alive, as we could never have survived the night; -and what a death to die! by cold and hunger, in regions of ice and snow! After sitting some time, and taking a gloomy glance around, my companion resolved to try the desperate alternative; he said, truly enough, to remain where we were was certain destruction, and we could but attempt to pass over, even though the failure would accelerate our otherwise inevitable fate. No time was to be lost, and we prepared to cross the ridge, narrow as the bridge which leadeth to the Mahommetan paradise, and almost as hopeless to attempt.

My companion took the lead. The end of the ridge next us was somewhat lower than the block of ice we were on, and sunk down in the middle with a slight curve-and at the other end it rose about four feet. My friend sat down with his legs hanging over the yawning abyss, and lowering himself upon the ridge, placed his hands before him, drew his body along, precisely as you may have seen boys draw themselves along a scaffold-pole laid horizontally; we had the advantage, however, of steadying ourselves by pressing our legs against the ice. Having in this manner got nearly over, and to where it began to rise, the greatest caution was necessary in rising on his feet, in order to draw himself up upon the block of solid ice.

I watched his progress with intense anxiety, and then it was my turn to follow. My heart sunk within me-my companion stood on the other side and encouraged me. I threw my pole over to him, and then sat down on the edge of that awful chasm. My sensations were horrible indeed; nothing short of absolute despair would have tempted me to undertake it. However, I stretched my legs over this icy saddle; the pelting rain was running off in numberless rills; the rough, uneven, jagged edge struck a chill upon my very heart; my clothes were stiff and frozen on me; my hands and feet beuumbed with cold; almost shoeless, and the skin torn off my fingers by the rough ice and small stones scattered over the glacier. I moved slowly and steadily onwards; I looked down on either side of the yawning gulf below me-I felt the necessity of collecting all my energies-it was the calmness of despair. I uttered no sound; poised as I was, the slightest swerve either way and I should lose my balance, and then all would be over. I drew myself along, and steadied myself by pressing my legs against the glassy ice; and then, when almost over, I had to raise myself upon my feet to mount the solid block-the most nervous of all. I gathered one foot up, and by the help of the pole which my companion extended to me, slowly rose and stood upon the narrow, slippery edge, and gained the block in safety.-Adventures of a Whaler.

A VALENTINE TO MRS. PARTINGTON.-Mrs. Partington has been honoured with a seasonable favour in the shape of a Valentine, which affected her much! It runs as follows:

"I am thine in my gladness, I am thine in my tears;
My love cannot change with absence or years;
Were a dungeon thy dwelling, my home it would be,
For its gloom would be sunshine, were I only with thee;
But the light has no beauty, if of thy love bereft ;
I am thine, and thine only--thine over the left!
"As the wild Arab hails, on his desolate way,

The palm tree which blooms where the cool waters play,
So thy presence is ever the herald of bliss,

For there's love in thy smile, there's joy in thy kiss,
Thou hast won me, now wear me; of thy love bereft,

A MAD RAJAH.

23

RUN BAHADOOR's Brahmin queen gave birth to three children, and immediately after her last confinement was attacked with smallpox. Run Bahadoor now became almost frantic; all the hakeens (native doctors) were consulted, and large rewards were offered for a perfect recovery. The doctors at Nepaul were propitiated and consulted. Sacrifices and daily offerings were made to them. The ranee getting worse, all became alarmed, and the king furious. His ministers and doctors then advised that, as the holy city of Benares contained many celebrated men, a deputation should inmediately be sent there to fetch as many as could be induced to come to Nepaul under promises of large rewards for a cure. These arrived in due time, but all their art was in vain. The smallpox had done its work most effectually, and on the queen's recovery (she having stipulated the king should neither see nor visit her until she was well), she requested her attendants to furnish her with a looking-glass. When she beheld for the first time the dreadful ravages made on her once beautiful face, she became disconsolate, and, dismissing her attendants, poisoned herself. The vegetable poisons of Nepaul are quick and deadly, and to this day no antidote has been found for them. Upon hearing of her death, Run Bahadoor rushed into her apartment, and beholding his once lovely queen a corpse, and dreadfully spotted with the smallpox, be became frantic. He cursed his kingdom, her doctors, and the gods of Nepaul, vowing vengeance on all. He first sent for the unfortunate Benares doctors, denounced them as liars and imposters, and ordered them to be soundly flogged, and each to have his right ear and nose cut off in his presence. This was duly performed, and they were afterwards started to the British dominions, as a warning to all future impostors. He then wreaked his vengeance on the gods of Nepaul (not even excepting the famous temple at Pas Pat Nath), and, after abusing them in the most gross way, he accused them of having obtained from him twelve thousand goats, some hundred weight of sweetmeats, two thousand gallons of milk, etc., under false pretences, and that he would take summary vengeance for having wilfully disfigured his queen. He then ordered all the artillery, varying from three to twelve-pounders, to be brought in front of the palace, with all the made-up ammunition at Khatmandoo. All the guns were then loaded to the muzzie; and down he marched to the head-quarters of the Nepaul deities. On arriving at Pas Pat Nath, all the guns were drawn up in front of the several deities, honouring the most sacred with the heaviest metal. When the order to fire was given, many of the chiefs and soldiers ran away panic-stricken, and others hesitated to obey the sacrilegious order; aud not until several gunners had been cut down were the guns opened.

Down came the gods and goddesses from their hitherto sacred positious; and after six hours' heavy cannonading not a vestige of the deities remained. Their temples sharing the same fate, the priests ran away confounded, many escaping to the British territory, but those who were not so fortunate were seized, and each deprived of his holy head. The Goorkha king now became satisfied, vowing, however, no god should ever again be elevated in his dominions until his departed queen was restored to him. His life after this, as may be supposed, was a short one. The principal chiefs of his court, therefore, who found themselves the object of his cruel aud revengeful persecutions, again formed a conspiracy against the rajah, which was brought to a desperate issue rather prematurely.-Narrative of a Five Years' Residence in Nepaul.

INDEFINITE PARTIES.-A curious question might arise under the new Divorce Act. Suppose two divorced parties choose to be married by banns, how are they to be described? They are not bachelors and spinsters, neither are they widowers or widows; in fact they are indescribable. Practically, this difficulty is not likely to occur. Divorce is still too dear for those people who are obliged to be married by banns.

HINTS TO PARENTS.-Few are aware how much their children might be taught at home by daily devoting a few minutes to their instruction. Let a parent make a companion of his child, converse with him familiarly, ask him questions, answer inquiries, communicate facts the result of his reading or observation-awaken his curiosity, explain difficulties, the meaning of things, and all this in an easy, playful manner, without seeming to impose a task, and he himself will be astonished at the progress which will be made. The experiment is

AN OLD SOLDIER'S GLORY.

A curious statistic of the mass of fire brought by the enemy on our troops, during the siege of eleven days, from 48 pieces of ordnance, is given in Jones's "Sieges in Spain." He states that 21,000 rounds of shell and shot were launched against our approaches. Confined as these were in space, and narrow in dimensions, it was astonishing, from the concentrated direction of the missiles, that our casualties were not greater. Now, supposing all these to have occurred from the cannonade only, which was very far from being the case, and transferring the cause of the loss of those who fell on this occasion from musketry, the bayonet, and mines, to the enemy's artillery alone, we should then have some five men killed or wounded for about every hundred rounds of cannon shot and shell fired. From the above circumstance, I may be allowed to state to the uninitiated how much more numerically destructive is the fire of musketry than that of round shot and shell. In confirmation of this I will here recite the following remarks made on the subject by other authorities. At Cambrai, in 1817, at a dinner at the Duke of Wellington's, I heard Sir George Wood (then chief of artillery to the army of occupation in France) state, that in Lord Howe's great action on the 1st of June, two barrels and a half of gunpowder were fired for every man killed or wounded. "Aye," said the Duke, taking up the conversation," and at Trafalgar, where about 25,000 British sailors were engaged, under 1300 were killed and wounded; while at Talavera de la Reyna, out of an army of 19,000 men, I lost 5000 principally by musketry." The Duke, whose economy in action of the life of his troops was well known to us, merely meant to state a simple fact in illustration of the effects of the different species of fire. He hated a “ 'butcher's bill," and never made one if he could possibly avoid it. To quote his own words, in writing to the relative of one of his personal staff who fell at Waterloo, speaking of the victory gained, he says, "the glory resulting from such actions, so dearly bought, is no consolation to me.' Amongst other random recollections, I noted the above conversation at the time; it is more forcibly brought to my mind, as I well remember a feat of endurance of fatigue which I performed at the same period. I had reached Cambrai at a quarter past two P.M. that day, with dispatches for the Duke from our Ambassador, Lord Stuart de Rothsay, at Paris. After a ball I quitted the Embassy at half past three the same morning; was in my saddle by four, and rode the distance of twenty-two French posts (or 110 English miles) franc etrier in ten hours and a quarter; delivered my dispatches; dined at head-quarters by the Duke's invitation; attended that night another ball at the Hotel de Ville; had an early field day the following morning, played a cricket match against the garrison of Valenciennes, succeeded in getting fifty runs; attended a lively dinner under a tent, which, somehow or other, lasted till sunrise the following day; and was, after all, fresh and fit for duty, as if I had done nothing. From the example of energy of mind and activity of body set before us by our great chief, we were all, from spirit, training, and emulation, ready for, and up to, anything by night or day, in "camp, or court, or grove."-Recollections of Campaigns under the Duke of Wellington.

COINS IN THE HAIR.-Messrs. Irby and Mangles, in their "Travels in Syria," mention that during their stay at Kerek, in Petra, they saw the dowry of a young woman who was going to be married, paid at the Sheik's house, which amounted to about one hundred piastres, in white Constantinople money, consisting of silvered tin coins, about the size of a sixpence. These were only what she was to wear as her head ornament, as the ladies there decorate their foreheads with dollars and different kinds of money; sometimes the coins hang down to both ears, and must be a great weight. This is occasionally practised also in many parts of Greece. Byron's description of Haidee may be appropriately cited here :

"Her brow was overhung with coins of gold,
That sparkled o'er the auburn of her hair,
Her clustering hair whose longer locks were rolled
In braids behind; and though her stature were
Even of the highest, for a female mould,
They nearly reach'd her heel."

-Rowland on the Hair.

GOOD RETORT. A young wife remonstrated with her husband, a dissipated spendthrift, on his conduct. 'My love," said he, "I am only like the Prodigal Son-I shall reform by and by." "And I will be like the Prodigal Son, too," she replied, "for I will arise, and go to my father;" and accordingly off she went.

REVIEWS.

The Golden Age, and other Poems. By Alexander Gouge. London: Arthur Hall, Virtue and Co.

THE "Golden Age," by Mr. Gouge, is a review of the history of the world. The leading points of the world's history, in their natural order, are brought before us in metrical attire. The poet has in some cases crippled his verse in following its order of events. It is to be regretted that he has thus restrained himself that he has not more freely followed whithersoever his muse would have led. Where he has departed from the beaten track his versification is sometimes musical, and shows the genuine ore of poetry. It is seldom that so sweet and luxurious a strain of pure description greets us, as in the following quotation.

"Earth will be what earth once hath been :-
:-
(Fix'd the prediction-ne'er to pass-
Engraved on leaves of solid brass-
Based on Truth's adamantine rock,
Impregnable to Fate's last shock,
Clear as the path by seraph's trod,
And stedfast as the throne of God!)
I see her frame,-to chaos hurl'd—
Emerge-a renovated world!

A second blissful Paradise,
Robed in the colours of the skies!
The airs of Eden round it sigh,
Elysian gales, that never die!
Spring smiles in loveliest array,
Graced with the floral wreath of May:
Mellifluous fruits the groves adorn,
And filled is Amalthæa's horn;

No thistle there-no brier grows

No hemlock breeds-no nightshade blows-
No Upas dire, with poison rife-
But myrtles green, and trees of life :
The streams with honey flow; the air
Teems with ethereal minstrels fair.
Mid man's regenerated race,
Virtue resumes her rightful place:
At her soft voice of holy breath,
Fly Sorrow, Sickness, Sin, and Death;
And nations from contention cease.
Expectant of the Prince of Peace!"

Japan Opened. Compiled chiefly from the Narrative of the
American Expedition to Japan, in the years 1852-3-4.
With Engravings. Royal 18mo. London: W. Tarn,
Paternoster Row.

THE empire of Japan has long been an object of interest, and the more so from the exclusive policy adopted by its rulers. After numerous attempts to effect a free intercourse with its people the barriers have at length been, to some extent, removed. The account published by the American government, in a costly folio, of the proceedings of the mission of their officers, is of high value. In the cheap work now issued, will be found a large amount of curious information respecting the manners, customs, religion, and government of the Japanese. Many readers will now, for the first time, become acquainted with a people, whose spiritual condition will call forth an earnest desire to send to them the glad tidings of salvation. The present volume is illustrated with numerous engravings. It is well suited for book societies, and for family reading.

A CHEAP LOT.-This being the age of competition, the gamins, like the tradesfolks, are obliged to offer decided bargains, in order to keep on their legs in trade. The other day a ragged, but brisk-looking urchin, accosted a gentleman in Bond-street, and offered to sing a song, stand on his head, and clean the gentleman's boots-all for a halfpenny. "It's a cheap lot," was the reply; "but I have no time to see it out -here's a penny for you." The lad pocketed the copper in a twinkling, and expressed his acknowledgments by walking away on his hands.