which forbade her to reign on the throne. Even on the throne her power was felt, but her authority was acknowledged in the salons. There her guests were instruments which she governed, from which she produced a harmony, each in orderly obedience to her command, yet with the spirit and charm of voluntary wit "discoursing most excellent music." In a word, every thing, except heart, embellished these lively soirees, and even heartlessness, carefully guarded as it was, had its pleasing effect. It rendered the wit, like stars that shine brightest in a frosty atmosphere, more keenly brilliant, and it prevented the freedom of the entertainment from overstepping the lines of prudence or politeness, and degenerating into excess.

The salon of Madame de Valmont, although not one of those which had attained the highest distinction and celebrity, yet partook of the characteristics of the time; the conversation at her table was a graceful mixture of sprightliness, if not wit-and good sense; and under an explosion of light laughter, at one of the liveliest sallies of the evening, de Mortagne made his entry unobserved, and surprised his fair hostess-bending the knee in playful homage beside her.

"You!" cried she, "faithless and truant so late and so daring."

"A suppliant to your august clemency, although more daring than you have even yet imagined."

"What new treason? Come, tell all your guilt before you sue for forgiveness. Enough, and more than enough already to be pardoned and punished. First, you fail in true allegiance-deserting my soiree, and leaving me exposed to the perils of magic which woman can least resist-magic that can add to the charm of mystery, the attraction of being new, and the boast of being prohibited. You leave me to encounter the shocks of repulsion and sympathy, forsaken by the trusty counsellor and friend, whose wisdom was to shield me from all evil influences. Next you taunt me with your indifference, contemning my petit souper, and make it too plain that it would give you no concern had the sorcerer bewitched me, or changed me into a sylph. And now that you appear, some horrid crime untold, unimagined, has still to be pardoned-perhaps, to be re

pented of. Come, sir, tell us your crime."

"He is in the antechamber, madame, an English gentleman, a friend of Lord Annadale. Will it please you to pronounce my doom or my pardon, when you have seen the extent of my daring. May I introduce my friend? I defer the explanation of my boldness until some future hour, when the tediousness may be less annoying."

At a sign of indulgence, Monsieur de Mortagne left the chamber, and preзently returned, introducing Carleton, who, notwithstanding all he had suffered, paid his compliments gracefully, as he took the place assigned him near Madame de Valmont.

"Your voices," said she; "shall Monsieur de Mortagne be pardoned, as a grace for the amiable addition he has made to our society?"

"Pardon, pardon," cried out several voices.

"But," said the beautiful blonde, "with a reserve that, to the best of his abilities, he accounts for his tardiness."

"Do you require a true narrative of his proceedings while he was guilty of absence:"

"No, no, madame, we are not so extravagant. Let him explain; if he romance, let his story be pleasant in proportion as it is not true, and it will amuse us into pronouncing a general pardon."

"What an idea," said de Mortagne, looking round into every face, "my fair and good friends please to entertain of me. I shall explain, and my explanation shall be true. I was not at your soiree, Madame la Comtesse, because I was"-here he made a pause during which every face betrayed impatience and expectation, at length he completed the sentence in a voice subdued to a whisper-"at mass."

"At mass! at mass! What! turning devout, is that your explanation?" "An explanation not to be admitted," said the lady who had pronounced his sentence. "Monsieur le Vicomte promised us truth. What he has given us is neither pleasant nor true; he should have been here before the mass commenced; this after-thought of devotion shall not serve his purpose. It is an involuntary acknowledgment that he is wholly without excuse-an acknowledgment not entitled to fa

vour, for it wants the touching recommendation of remorse. Judge, ladies, with me, has Monsieur de Mortagne the look or manner of a true penitent?' "Oh, madame, as to penitence, I renounce it, on principle. Indeed I had little taste for it at any time; but since I became a man, I have discarded it from my list of tolerated weaknesses. Penitence-it is the sound of conscience that goes too slow. If your clock will not strike the hours in proper time, better it should be silent. A man who orders his life wisely will make it become so. I like repentance in a fine Corregio. Your blue eyes, madame, would give a captivating interest to such an expression. It does not suit me; I discard it. But as to my explanation-my after-thought, as Madame de Launy terms it, it is just, although it applies more properly, madame, to your after-party My excuse for the soiree is an accident. was hastening from St. Denis, over roads, as you can well believe, on which ice has done its office. My misfortune was almost matter of course. One of my horses fell. I spare you details, and merely add, that when I arrived at my hotel, it was too late to avail myself of the privilege to wait on madame."

I

"And so you proceeded straightway," said his fair persecutor, "to return thanks for your preservationfrom the soiree or the fall-which was it? It shows a good disposition to have been thankful for either. At least it shows that gratitude is not in so bad repute with you, as remorse."

"By no means, madame. Gratitude! it never harmed mortal. It is an unpresuming quality; and when a strong passion or interest is in the way, will accept an excuse or a denial. I admit gratitude-it admits of management; but there is only one course to be taken with repentance. It bears none but bitter fruits, and must be rooted out. But, returning to my explanation:-I threw myself on your clemency, with a fixed purpose, to win it by truth alone. There is a charm in a resolution of this kind which I would not willingly dissipate. Even for me, madame, novelty has attraction. I did not go to the church to return thanks to God, or saint, or man; but I said, I will follow this crowd, and enter where it enters perhaps I shall find some

thing to relate to Madame de Valmont which may win me indulgence and favour. This was my reason for entering St. Germain l'Auxerrois tonight."

"Well, and the success? What face or figure will you describe, to make the portrait of it a compensation for your long absence?"

"Alas! madame-none. If I did notice any thing worth describing, it has passed from my memory. I was reminded of an incident in my early life-a danger, an escape, and the cost of it. The whole scene came upon me with a power that caused every thing around to be forgotten. If you can grant indulgence to such a story of by-gone days, it will make me happy to relate it."

"Relate-by all means-relate."

"Well, madame, to commence. In the year of grace seventeen hundred and something, when I was in Ireland

"In Ireland-you a resident in Ireland?"

"Yes, madame-even in Ireland." "But do tell us, how came you to be an inhabitant of that country? Was it for pleasure or for improvement? I never knew that you had written of it-I have not heard you speak of it."

"Nevertheless, madame, I was there. I directed the recruiting service."

Mystery within mystery. What can you mean?"

"Simply, madame, what I have the honour to say. You are aware that we have had in our army many soldiers of fortune from Ireland, and that we have at this moment Irish regiments in our service. We recruited for them in their own country. I see, Mr. Carleton, you look rather sceptical. It is the simple truth. And more -the practice was overlooked—connived at, perhaps, by some of your ablest ministers. What are we to do, said they. There is a reservoir of treason in Ireland-hundreds of thousands who, by the very laws of their being, will resist the laws of the land. Surely 'tis as well they should be drained off-that the reservoir of peccant humours shall be exhausted. They will be no less mischievous in Ireland than in Flanders or France; I while the difference will be, that

France must pay if she take them away, while she has their services for nothing if we detain them at home. This reasoning, Mr. Carleton, is my own. I merely suppose it to be that of your statesmen. I did not reason so while I was acting as, in some sort, your enemy; but reflecting since on many circumstances connected with my recruiting performances, I have come to the conclusion that our activities must have been overlooked of

set purpose. However, it was to be explained, we were for a time so untroubled in our vocation, that we recruited and sent off our men with little care or caution. We knew the traffic in human lives was contrary to law, but felt as if it were sanctioned by custom.

"A time came when we had the excitement of opposition and danger to season our enjoyment. Men enlisted with a fear of the rope-they hang, at least they used to hang, with reasonable liberality in Ireland— and in receiving and disposing of them, we were forced to be on the alert, to evade sharp pursuit, and to adopt uncouth disguises.

"I travelled once for some days in company with-perhaps I should say in attendance upon a drover-not one who was of dignity to drive oxen, or even sheep-my associate was a merchant of swine. I accompanied him in the appropriate costume-by no means, I can assure you, an inviting one-but it had the merit of not inviting pursuit. The very slowness of our march favoured us; and many a time they who were in quest of usof me rather-passed on with a word or two to my companion, who was spokesman on each occasion, and left me unmolested. After this fashion my trusty associate conducted his drove and me, in safety, to the halting-place, where our ways were to separate.

"It was a habitation rude enough; portion of an old round tower, perched boldly on a high and precipitous rock projecting into a great lake connected with, I believe, the largest of the Irish rivers the Shannon, I think, it is called. A narrow road, a kind of isthmus, of some hundred yards in length, connected this little peninsula, on which the tower was seated, with the main land. The whole was considerably elevated above the river, and,

in the neighbourhood of the tower, descended to it with an abruptness that was little less than perpendicular. A boat was to be provided for me in the morning after my arrival, and I was to be conducted into a place of greater safety. I was by no means sorry that my partnership (as the English merchants say) in the swinish multitude was dissolved, especially when, towards the end of our last day's journey, a mounted traveller, unattended, while conversing with my companion, threw some sharp glances towards me. To his questions I was proof; my partner answering for me that I could not speak English. I was modest enough you observe, to think it possible that a foreign accent might betray me. Still I thought the over-curious traveller was not over-satisfied, and felt well pleased that the days of the disguise I then wore were numbered. You shall see by the result that my alarm was better founded than my security.

"At the earliest dawn of a morning in June we were startled out of a short slumber. The enemy were upon us, not actually at our fortalice, but discernible at a distance and approaching. I must do the Irish people the justice to say that, fanciful as they are, their imagination is of the kind which is most convenient; instead of exhausting itself in magnifying a danger, however formidable and sudden, it helps them to expedients by which they escape from it. My boat had arrived about midnight, and no more was necessary than that I should reach it in time. To retard the progress of the military party, my partner in the swine affair, routed up his heavy charge and drove them before him to the long causeway, which connected our fortress with the main land. Three men who had met us at the tower were left with me. The eldest offered to conduct me to the boat. The path to it, he said, wound along the side of the hill-I might escape the notice of the military-I might also be observed. If his honour (this is one of the titles conferred rather liberally by the Irish people) would not think it too much trouble, there was a rope-ladder by which I could descend directly from the tower, and enter the boat without an instant's exposure. Observe, I pray you, the phrase too much trouble.' The delicacy of savage life is

beyond all praise. He knew as well as I knew myself that the correct word would be, not trouble, but danger. He had an instinct to teach him that it would not be the proper word. I soon set him at ease. No man should

engage in an adventurous life without having a steady head. Giddiness, physical giddiness, has often defeated great exploits, and brought many an enterprising career to a sudden and disastrous close. I set my friend at rest. He proceeded, with much despatch, to uncover an aperture in the floor of our rude apartment, and showed me, at a sufficiently appalling distance beneath, the still, dark water. Across the orifice I saw two thick iron bars extended. A ladder of rope, attached to them, was uncoiled, and I heard the plash as it fell into the river. My poor friend remained for a few seconds looking down, and as he raised his face it was pale with consternation.

"There are two boats, colonel, dear,' said he, and one of them is the enemy's.'

"He was right-closely drawn to the bank-so closely as to be effectually covered by the high rock, which rather retreated than sloped out as it approached the river-we could see, by the side-view which our station afforded us, a boat, with one man holding the oars, and two with military great-coats, and armed as soldiers. The scheme was well laid. The inquisitive traveller had seen, no doubt, more than he affected to observe; and the secret of our fort, too, had been discovered. I was to be arrested by the party coming in front, or, if I ventured by the postern, I was to be intercepted on the water.

"What was to be done? I had a brace of pistols; but against the arms of the soldiers they were, in any case, poor weapons, and at our present distance from them, they were wholly useless. Could we-from our commanding eminence-could we sink the enemy? Oh! how I wished for heavy shot, or mighty stones to send down upon them. The wretched abode where we passed the night was utterly naked and desolate-it afforded no moveables of use for our purpose. There was no parapet on the ledge of rock which we might overturn. Still we would not give up life or liberty without an effort.

"All that I have had the honour to describe to you, passed so quickly, that my partner of the preceding day had not entered on the road from the tower when my old friend and I came forth to struggle for deliverance. Our design was to loosen and tear down some large fragments of the decayed masonry, carry them to the verge of the platform, and precipitate them on the unsuspecting sentinels. My swine compeller turned back from his way. The soldiers were yet a good way off, and, before he wandered forth to interrupt them with his ungracious drove, he thought that, for a few minutes, he could lend a hand,' as he expressed himself, to assist in killing their friends in the boat.

"Well, madame, we set to work with right good will, although with implements ill-adapted to our purpose. We proceeded slowly, painfully, I may well add, vexatiously. If you are toiling prosperously, you will often deprecate any partnership in your labours; but if you are unsuccessful, it provokes you much to see persons, whom you would not, perhaps, ask to assist you, busy in their own pursuits, and taking no thought of your perplexities. In such an emergency as mine, a trial of this kind was very sharp. While we toiled as only those, who strive for life against minutes, can toil, my fellowlabourers praying for assistance from the saints, and I cursing the masons who had done their work so mischie vously well, a boy or youth, of about sixteen years of age, active and strong enough to be useful, was amusing himself in the double enjoyment of tormenting us, and worrying two monstrous beasts, who had separated from their amiable companions, and whom he was labouring by means of ropes thrown round their heads, to bring back to their place in the drove. I was angry, I confess. Once I was strongly tempted to waste one of my two shots on the urchin; but I felt that both might have a better employment, and I thought it possible that the lad's father, who laboured energetically with me, would not approve of the vengeance I wished to inflict on his provoking offspring.

"The wretch, too, had his own trouble. The more earnestly he tugged, the more obstinately the sulky brutes retreated. At last, in their

backward march, they neared the verge of the rock where there was a sheer descent to the water. Sud. denly a thought of the boy's intent flashed on my mind. While we toiled

wearily and in vain, one man had remained with him, and this man I saw hasten to the tower, and peer out cautiously through the aperture. Words were interchanged between him and the boy, and a slight alteration in the posture of the swine effected. I could wait no longer-I hastened to the tower, and there the whole plan was open before me.

The ca

"On the verge of the precipice, with heads landward, tails pendant over empty space, there stood the two colossal creatures. Directly under them was the boat. The boy had done his part, and would now have the catastrophe duly accomplished. Father,' said he, Denis, leave those stones at rest; they will be at rest whether you like it or no, and come here where you can do some good.' With hands uplifted in wonder, the men obeyed and stood beside the boy. Now, James, darling,' cried he to my companion in the tower, is all right-is the aim sure?' 'Surer than a miser's moneysurer could not be,' was the reply. "Then,' said the boy, God send Saxon George's sodgers an easy death.' Not another word was spoken. tastrophe was effected in speechlessness, so far as man was concerned. The boy tugged passionately at his ropes the brutes, as is their wont, stubbornly retreated. Their hind-legs passed over the precipice. There was the struggle of a moment, but only a moment. The weight of the monsters, and a little aid from the father and son, promptly decided the affair. Down went the elephant-like monsters -a horrid avalanche-on the unsuspecting ambush. A man had risen in the boat-perhaps hearing faintly the far-off cry of the creatures in their last struggle. From my post of observation I could see his countenance as he beheld the descending masses. The expression was of pure amazement-a bewilderment of faculties so absolute as to banish thought and even fear. Strange how the vision of an instant shall stamp an image upon the memory such as can never be obliterated. I never saw such an expression of face before or since, and if I were a painter I could trace it as accurately, though

not with the same delight, as I could yours, madame. Almost in the act of rising, he was struck down; one mighty ruin plunged him into the water, and overturned the boat as he fell. The second shock was unnecessary-it merely accelerated the catastrophe.

At

"My rope-ladder was now made fast, and I hastily descended. As I reached the lowest steps, I could perceive that there was some commotion in the boat. I saw but the conclusion of it. One only of the crew had risen from the river depths. Hurt and helpless as he was, he would have found mercy, had he been in other attire. The regimentals proved his ruin. the moment I stepped off the ladder, his fate was decided. The last blow was mortal. The water was bloody around him his hands slided off from the side of the boat, and with his eyes in a wide and ghastly stare, his face upturned, and almost as dreadful in a paleness where death seemed anticipated, as where the red blood was rushing over his hair and shoulders— he slowly sunk.

"We gave little time to watch or think of him, but pulled our way vigorously across the river. When we stood out a little from the bank, we could see what passed on the isthmus. My friend, the proprietor of the swine, had chosen his fate with me. He and another of the party were with us in the boat, while the drove were left in charge of the boy who had so distinguished himself, and of his associate in the achievement. We could see that they had reached the mainland without meeting the military, and soon after we were safe in recesses at the other bank of the river, where danger, in the shape of the Elector's soldiers, was little likely to reach us."

The story was received with indulgence, and with the expressions of pretty horror and interest, meet for the narrator's encouragement. It was followed by questions which had been retained in suspense during the recital, for explanations of incidents which the auditory were not prepared fully to understand. At length it was remembered that one important matter was left untold.

"You said that the story was suggested to you this evening. How was that? Where is the connection between a midnight mass at St. Germain