Street-goers and strangers in Paris, in the ab- | and reclining upon a huge shield, which is borne sence of newer things, look curiously at these im-up by six Frank warriors. These in their turn provised houses, grouped about the grand entrance to the Bois de Boulogne.

stand upon the bastions of an ancient Gallic fortress, from whose base four rivers run, marking the The old, Middle Age town of the Jacquerie has limits of the old Frank domain. Roman prisonlatterly called attention again; and every night a ers in red tunics, goaded by stalwart warriors, go watchman holds his place upon the top of the tow-before and after the car of the conqueror Clodion;

er to look after the safety of the city. It is a revival of its old use once more; but with the added | appliances of modern art, for now the tower watchman can communicate in an instant, by electric telegraph, with the most distant barrack of the metropolis.

and Frankish women with implements of husbandry, and Frankish husbandmen driving their cattle, follow in the company toward such new home as the conqueror may win.

After this comes the car of Luxembourg, consecrated to St. Hubert, patron of the country. There are Amazons, there are pikemen, there are pages in green, who make his escort. There are splendid trophies of the chase, magnificent stag-hounds held in leash, branching antlers, and the winding of a hunter's horn.

armor, and escort belonging to his day.

Yet another ornament for the city, and another Napoleonic monument, is proposed by the Senator Dupin. He urges that the action of Louis Napoleon in conducting the nation gloriously and honorably through the late war, and in giving the French name a prestige of dignity which it has never had Godefroy de Bouillon is on this car of Luxem before, is deserving of some monumental commem-bourg, revived with all the appointments of dress, oration. He therefore proposes a new bronze column of Trajan, to be erected at the intersection of the Boulevard de Sebastopol with the broad avenue leading from the Pantheon to the garden of the Luxembourg; three sides of its base to commemorate, by bas-relief sculpture, recent victories of the French in Algeria and the East; and the fourth side, looking toward the Palace Garden, inscribed "To Napoleon the Third." The spiral of the column is to show a processional array of French glories, and a bronze statue of the Emperor is to crown the summit. Such is the project of the faithful Senate; its execution or abandonment will depend upon the French master.

Or all civic displays Belgium has just now given the crowning wonder. The twenty-fifth anniversary of the coronation of King Leopold has been celebrated by fêtes in almost every city of his little kingdom; but the three festal days on which the anniversary was honored in Brussels were the capital days of the show. One feature of the programme is too noticeable to be passed over without special mention; we refer to the moving representation of the great historic epochs belonging to Belgium or to Flanders.

By leave of our readers we will glance at thiswhisking away for the hour's outlook to the royal square of Brussels. The King's palace, the palace of Orange, and the palace of the Belgian deputies, all look down upon this square, upon which opens the Royal Park, whose grand central avenue brings to mind the Garden of the Tuileries.

The city of Hainault comes next, with magnificence of other sort. Her car, looming fifty feet above the pavement, represents a Byzantine citadel, with all its turrets, its drawbridges, its bastions; and seated upon one of these, in imperial purple, is Baldwin, the Flemish Emperor of the East, the successor of Constantine. His throne gleams with jewels and gold. His faithful crusading warriors are around him. Men in armor, with vizors down, attend the car, and eight magnificent horses, caparisoned as were those of Baldwin at Constantinople, drag it before the balcony of the King. Arrived here, a cohort of sixty minstrels, in the dress of Troubadour times, advance within ear-shot of the royal circle, and, kneeling, chant a Middle Age ditty of love and war. these rise and pass on; and Emperor Baldwin, on his throne, passes around an angle of the palace, giving place to those heroic Flemish commoners and fierce artisans who defended their liberties against France. We see the brave Jacques Van Artevelde, with his son Philip, and a score of gallant companions, and we hear them shouting "Flandre au Lion !" in the ears of the King.

Then

After these comes the magnificent cavalcade of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy. First, eighty cavaliers in Burgundian colors, with pennants waving; then fifty yeomen with their staves, followed by six trumpeters; after these the knight-heralds and the pages; then the magnificent company of the Knights of the Golden Fleece in gala dressthe cushions of velvet, with the ducal crown and sceptre; last of all, Philip himself, upon a white charger splendidly caparisoned.

A warm sun of later July is shining on the pavement and the palaces. The swords and casques of a battalion of carabineers are gleaming on the The court and times of Charles V. had also its square. Swarms of people, not wearied with two representation, with pretty Belgian women playdays of continuous festivity, are crowding up being Marguerite of Austria and Marguerite of Parhind the soldiery-looking at the palace balconies, ma. Philip of Spain too, made up after old picwhere the royal family and its guests are gather-tures, rode by under the balcony of the King. ing, and where the splendid costumes of general officers and of European diplomacy are mingling with the gay colored plumes and silks of an army of ladies.

Rubens, and Vandyck, and Mansfeld had their appropriate places in the cavalcade; and modern Belgium, with her arts, her agriculture, and her trade, brought up the rear of this moving historic pageant.

As the clock on the Tower of St. Gudule sounds three, there is an opening in the ranks to the east- It had been prepared under the design of the ward of the palace square, and, preceded by mili- first artists of Belgium, and not a costume or a tary music, the first great car of the Historic Cav-sword-hilt but was true to its age and use. Rarely, alcade comes in.

Upon its summit appears Clodion, the head of the old Merovingian dynasty, clad in the armor of his time, girt about with his two-handed sword,

if ever, has there been exhibited such a perfect and gorgeous rendering of national history; such a rendering as would make every Belgian proud of the past and of the present.

Editor's Drawer.

was not to be misunderstood. They took the hint; for on the next Sabbath the window and the cushOW it is October. The "deep and crimson ion were found in excellent repair, much to the

Now it is it the sweet Foct Ppake of is dis surprise of the resident minister.""

closed by the dying leaves. Every where, in a few days, all the woodlands will present a "sea of flowers" of gold, and crimson, and scarlet, and russet-brown. October!

"Solemn, yet beautiful to view,

Month of my heart! thou dawnest here,
With sad and faded leaves to strew
Pale summer's melancholy bier:
The moaning of thy winds I hear,
As the red sunset dies afar,
And bars of purple clouds appear,
Obscuring every western star.

"I look to Nature, and behold

My life's dim emblems rustling round,
In hues of crimson and of gold-

The year's dead honors on the ground:
And sighing with the winds, I feel,
While their low pinions murmur by,
How much their sweeping tones reveal
Of life and human destiny.

"Alas for Time, and Death, and Care!

What gloom about our way they fling!
Like clouds in autumn's gusty air,

The burial pageant of the spring.
The dreams that each successive year
Seemed bathed in hues of brighter pride,
At last like withered leaves appear,

And sleep in darkness side by side."

Yes; but there comes a spring, when all shall be again renewed: when the flowers shall appear again upon the earth; when the time of the singing of the birds shall come, and the voice of the turtle shall be heard in the land. Precious type of the resurrection of this frail, failing, dying body! -type of the immortal life!

THEY tell a good clerical anecdote of an eccentric clergyman in Massachusetts, which may not be without its influence in places where they do not think enough of the Supreme to keep His House of Worship in repair:

"A neighboring minister, with whom he was about to exchange, said to him, knowing, as he did, the peculiar bluntness of his character:

You will find some panes of glass broken in the pulpit window, and possibly you may suffer from the cold. The cushion, too, is in a bad condition; but I beg of you not to say any thing to my people on the subject—they are poor, and can't help it.'

"Oh no! oh no!' was the reply.

"But before the minister left home he filled a bag with rags, and took it with him. When he had been in the pulpit a short time, feeling somewhat incommoded by the too free circulation of air, he deliberately took from the bag a handful or two of rags, and stuffed them into the window. Toward the close of his discourse, which was more or less upon the duties of a people toward their clergymen, he became very animated, and purposely brought down both fists with tremendous force upon the pulpit cushion.

"The feathers flew in all directions. He instantly checked the current of his thoughts, and simply exclaiming, 'Why, how these feathers fly!' proceeded with his sermon.

"His end was accomplished. He had fulfilled his promise of not addressing the society on the subject, but he had taught them a lesson which

"To all whom it may concern.' My dear Sir, there is a world of plain common sense in the following, 'if,' as Hamlet says, 'our wisdom could but find it out:'

666

"Madam,' said a husband to his young wife, in a little altercation, which will sometimes spring up in the best of families,' 'when a man and his wife have quarreled, and each considers the other at fault, which of the two ought to be the first to advance toward a reconciliation ?'

"The best-hearted and wisest of the two,' said the wife, putting up her rosy mouth for a kiss, which was given with an unction. She had conquered!"

THERE is affectation of quizzing-glasses, nowadays, by persons who do not require them at all, and who only use them because they make a graceful dangle over a shirt-frill, a cataract of scarf, and a virgin-white waistcoat. Let any summer visitor at Saratoga or Newport say if this be not the fact. We have seen a young "blood," with his eye-glass screwed into his eye, when there were observers to notice it, suddenly forget himself, and take up a newspaper, which he read without the aid of his dangling appendage, although it was the finest print. Nothing more supremely snobbish can be conceived.

There is a story in point told of a Scottish clergyman of some note, who was one day walking through the streets of Edinburgh, dressed in his rough, country clothes, when a young lady, the leader of a group of fashionable belles, surveyed him through her quizzing-glass rather more curiously than he thought consistent with female delicacy. Seeming suddenly to recollect her, he walked up to her briskly, and seizing her by the hand with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, accosted her with:

"My dear Maria, how do you do? How did you leave your worthy father and venerable mother-those poor but honest people? and when did you come to town?"

All this was expressed with the rapidity and energy of an old and familiar friend, and with an air a little savoring of superiority.

The astonished fair one, who had not time to withdraw her hand, said, with not a little alarm, "You are mistaken, Sir?

"What!" he replied, "is it possible, my dear, that you do not know me?"

"Indeed I do not, Sir!"

"Neither do I you," said the parson. "Goodmorning, madam!" and making a ceremonious bow, he walked slowly away.

The young woman was perfectly cured thereafter of quizzing strangers in the street.

MOORE mentions in his diary a very amusing anecdote of John Kemble. He was performing one night at some country theatre, in one of his favorite parts, and being interrupted from time to time by the squalling of a child in one of the galleries, he became not a little angry at the rival performance. Walking with solemn step to the front of the stage, and addressing the audience in his most tragic tone, he said:

"Unless the play is stopped, the child can not possibly go on !"

The loud laugh which followed this ridiculous transposition of his meaning, relaxed even the nerves of the immortal Hamlet, and he was compelled to laugh with his auditors.

APROPOS of Moore's diary; here is another little anecdote which is well worthy of preservation in the Drawer; a good lesson it is, moreover, to those who 'expect to be heard for their much speaking' in the pulpit:

The doctor dropped his "patient's" wrist in disgust.

"Perhaps you think I am a quack, Sir," he said.

"Ah! you have hit it now-you're right for once, any way. You can't tell how I feel, but you can tell what I think. Call yourself one of the Faculty'-you haven't got a faculty!"

And the old hypochondriac bowed his visitor out of the house.

WHAT a world of pain must have been conveyed "An anecdote of Dr. Barnes, who is now about to "W. S.," of " Ringwood, Hants," by the followninety-five years of age, rather amused me. Being letter in the "Personal" advertisement column ing sometimes (as even younger men might be) in- of the London Times: clined to sleep a little during the sermon, a friend who was with him in his pew one Sunday lately, having joked him on his having nodded now and then, Barnes insisted that he had been awake all the time.

"Well, then,' said his friend, 'can you tell me what the sermon was about?'

"Yes I can,' he answered; 'it was about an hour and a half too long!""

YOUNG doctors are sometimes pretty hard beset by old invalid "fogies,” and are obliged to "put up" with a great many things at first, which they would be very far from "standing" if they had broken the ice and got into a large and lucrative practice.

A case in point occurred in our own good city of Gotham, less than a hundred years ago, because it finds its way to the Drawer from the lips of a friend who heard it.

An old gouty, hipped, hypochondriacal "irritant" of a patient, in the absence of his own physician, calls in a young but very talented new-beginner in the medical way. He is announced:

"How do you do, young man? You are a doctor, eh ?"

"I have studied the medical profession, Sir, thoroughly, and, for a young physician, have had my share of practice."

"Oh, yes!—I s'pose so. Yes, yes. Well, young man, let's see how much you know. What is the matter with me, now? You can tell that, can't you ?"

The young doctor stepped forward, took hold of his patient's pulse and said,

"I can better tell you what is the matter with you when you tell me your symptoms."

"Symptoms! that is a good one! want you to tell me what is the matter with me, and you want me to tell you what is the matter with me. Shan't do it, so now go ahead!"

"W. S.-Your letter of the 19th has been received to-day. The acquaintance has ceased. Old times and scenes' are painful, and full of regret. We have parted forever. I am about to be married. Any future communication will be returned unopened. Farewell.-June 30."

Poor fellow! No use in his appealing to the "remembrances of the past" with such a stonyhearted coquette as this young lady appears to have been. She had doubtless encouraged him on, until she had found some other string to her bow, and then dropped him with as much indifference as if she had never awakened a tender emotion in his bosom. And to advertise his wrongs, too! Shame, madam!

THIS is a pretty thought, prettily expressed, is it not?

"Take the bright shell

From its home in the lea,

And wherever it goes

It will sing of the sea.

"So take the fond heart

From its home and its hearth,

'Twill sing of the loved

To the ends of the earth."

Tom Moore might have written that-but he didn't.

HERE, reader, is a little picture of one kind of "human natur," that, while it will make you laugh, conveys at the same time a lesson not unworthy of heed. The story is of a gentleman trayeling through Canada in the winter of 1839, who, after a long day's ride, stopped at a road-side inn called the "Lion Tavern," where the contents of the stage-coach, numbering some nine persons, soon gathered around the cheerful fire.

Among the occupants of the room was an illlooking cur, who had shown its wit by taking up its quarters in so comfortable an apartment. After Thus prompted, still having hold of the old a few minutes the landlord entered, and observing man's wrist, the young doctor said,

"You have pains across your loins, have you not, when you first get up in the morning?" "No, Sir; never had any thing of the kind in my life, as I ever remember."

"You are subject, I should say, to occasional violent headaches; that arises, no doubt, from-" "No matter about that; you can dry up on that point, for I am never troubled with headache."

"Let me look at your tongue. Ah! I thought 80. You are dyspeptic-flatulence; your digestive functions are out of order. I can soon remedy-"

the dog, remarked:

"Fine dog, that; is he yours, Sir?" appealing to one of the passengers.

"Then he is yours, and you have a treasure in "Hold on! nothing of the kind. I've got the him, Sir," at the same time throwing the animal a digestive powers of an anaconda !"

cracker.

A PLAN PROPOSED TO RENDER THE PRESENT STIFF AND IMMENSE DRESS USEFUL AS Go draw the cork; tip the

great toe shall set you a-roaring, it will be no affair | passed her hand down one of them, and holding of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titilla- them up, as if to see their length, asked, tion of the gout, it is all one to the Town-Pump."

"SWEET are the uses of adversity," says Shakspeare; but the following colloquy doesn't "make the proposition good:"

"Ah, Sam, so you are in trouble, eh?" "Yes, Jem, yes; I am."

"Well, well, never mind; cheer up, man-cheer up! Adversity tries us, and shows up our better qualities."

"Ah, but Adversity didn't try me; it was a country Judge, and he showed up my worst qualities."

This argument was a non sequitur; and in this case, at least," the greater the thief, the greater the " argument."