"They would think it strange to see us here."

"We have as good a right as they had, and a better, to be here." "You think so, Charles?" "I say so."

And, after a slight pause, the youth continued

"Are not we the children of that people who made the old usurper royal; they put him into this palace, and we have put him out of it; besides, dear Marie, you are more beautiful than the Bourbon woman who, ere last night, was sleeping in this room." And the youth interrupted the breakfast with a very affectionate embrace.

"On that ground, Marie, you have a better right."

"In your eyes, Charles; but she was very beautiful."

"Yes, that German Nemours was a beautiful woman.'

"And she had the air so good." "She was born to be a prince's wife as she was born a German ; neither are her fault."

"How long, Charles, do we stay here?"

"By my faith, dear, I know not.” "But we shall never separate." "My love will last until the Bourbons come again."

"And mine as long."

Again there was an interruption even more serious than the first. "It was very wrong of you to follow me yesterday, Marie.”

"I could not help it, Charles. Mon Dieu! had you been wounded and I not there."

"Had I known you were so near, Marie, I might have turned coward,

and run off. What a honeymoon! the first day of my marriage building barricades."

“Will you work any more, Charles, at your painting?"

"The Republic, Marie, will not feed me any more than the Bourbons; I must work.”

"I wonder has any accident happened to Brandon?"

"I was thinking, Marie, to go out and seek for him, and with your leave to ask him to our dinner; he can never see such things again within these Tuilleries, and it may serve him."

"But he may mock at me, Charles, for being here, although I would not mind him much; but the world, if it hears, may say a thousand cruel things."

"Ask them, Marie, was it we who made the Bourbons run away, and called to life this young Republic. Did we ask a duchess to give up her room to us?"

"That is true."

"It was destiny, Marie-it was that magic power, Destiny.”

"Yes it was destiny," smiled the young wife; "so ask Reginald, if you please."

"I must kiss that pretty hand, Marie-you have the other occupied ; but

But as the scene is growing tender, and more tender still, and as we do not live beneath a young Republic, one and indivisible, but under the soft shadow of a woman's throne, it will be deemed more gallant to let fall the curtain, and to leave the young pair to their destiny.

"Well, my American, you must help to christen the Republic." "Willingly, citizen."

In mixed companies it was often a better card of introduction to say you came from the Great Western Republic, so Reginald at least found.

"Now, my American, you have done your duty, I must do mine; I must water my horses, and I begin with the old grey. Come round here!

The old grey was a fierce, one-eyed old man, and must have been watered at a very early hour that morning, for he encored the tankard three times, and would have ventured on a fourth, had not the rider of the cask refused a

fresh supply.

"Off with you, you'll get no more; do you want to break your wind."

"Come, my little chesnut mare, you must have a tankard-one tankard." This was addressed to a brownhaired girl, dressed up in a blouse, with a small sword at her side.

"There, iny pretty one, there. Well, American, what do you think of my little mare's shapes."

"She looks a thoroughbred." "Indeed you might say so, if you saw her out of harness. Hist! there, you long-legged garrin; you'd be jealous if any one got the tankard after the little mare's lips-round with you."

It took some minutes for the gen tleman on the cask to water his horses, for they were twelve in number; and some of the stud were uncommonly thirsty. At length it was accomplished.

"Come, now, American, you want to be shown the duchess's apartment.'

"At your leisure; I am not pressed." "Well, come, American, you and I will drink my horses' health, and my little mare's health, and the young duchess's health, and her man's health, before we go."

"With all my heart, citizen."

"That smacks, American, like the blood of a gouty king; it is as rich, sir, if it's not as old, as a Bourbon's. Come, now, help me off the cask-I am, in verity, top-heavy; I have so much to think of, my head is crammed full."

Help, and his own weight, removed the Blouse from his eminent position; and having marshalled his horses in

pairs, he placed himself at their head; then taking Reginald's arm-a prop not to be despised in his present topheavy condition-he emerged from the wine cave to the higher regions of the palace.

"Now, then, I must leave you my horses," said the leader, as they reached a large landing, from which branched several galleries.

"Always keep to the same stable, so that I may know where to find you; and, Long Legs, give the little mare a comfortable bed."

:

The setting sun had seldom looked upon a stranger scene, even in wide France, than the old Palace of the Tuilleries presented on the evening that we write of. It might be likened, in good truth, to many a thing; it might be likened to a seraglio, for every lady had her sultan, and some two or more, and these contended for her-this was its Western trait and then it had its Eastern feature, for there were many there who, sultanlike, had more than their fair share of wanton beauties. The bedroom-doors were mostly lying open. It is wiser not to show our readers in, nor shall we venture on description. Suffice it just to say, that over the whole spirit of this strange society, in bed room, gallery, or wine-cave, at the hour that we write of, there was a certain langour, for the men had mostly all been very drunk, and some were still so ; while the terrible excitement of the previous day had used out the fever fire of their brain.

"There, now, you see that door there," said Brandon's companion, "the next room after is the duchess's

apartment. Tell the duke I'd go in and see him, if I hadn't my horses to look after; besides, he is bad company, although he is a good Republican."

out some Burgundy to his body-guard, and he calls that watering his horses."

"He is an original; but if it were not for his horses, there would not be so much order in the palace; he has the knack of organising drunken men. However, I must serve up dinner. Marie, do you entertain our old friend, while I set fire to my bifteck." And Charles went off to his business.

"How pretty you are, Marie," said Brandon, after gazing for a full minute on his young hostess.

Reginald's observation was just; Marie was very pretty. She had symmetry of figure-she had expression; and these alone win hearts. But, in addition, she expressed a perfect little piece of Grecian sculpture in her face, whose olive ground at every moment showed unrivalled little colours, from the blood-red blush to the lighter shades of animation. There was a rich luxuriance of the darkest hair ; while her soft, hazel eyes were not too full of life, they had a pensive cast. Marie had selected from the neighbouring wardrobe a blue silk wrapping gown, which certainly was rather a negligé dress for dinner, but still became her wonderfully; and then, to give effect to all, Marie had such a graceful, winning manner, with a voice whose tones were little bars of music falling on the ear; that halfembarrassed awkwardness, too, caused from her strange position, added another, and the true refining charm, to this young girl.

"Do you remember, Marie, the first time I met you?"

"Yes, I do, it was in Charles's studio."

"He was making a copy from pretty head."

your

"How I hated that way of living; but we were so poor."

"Yes, and you thought Charles was poor, and you would sit for nothing."

"How good he always was."

"I remember how he would advise you never to sit for young artistes, only for the old."

"He had reason, and I hated it."
"And then your head only was

"Are you still fond of your Blueeyes, Reginald?”

"Always, dear Marie."

"Have you heard of them lately?" "I have, Marie, and they were well."

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are served," said Charles, as he bore in upon a tray the dinner.

"Marie will do the honours, while I act as butler, cook, and general attendant."

The dinner proceeded cheerfully, for it was good; and the lovers and their guest were all contented with each other.

"I never eat such a dinner, Charles; you are a regular cordon bleu. I was in luck to meet you to-day."

"I was out marketing then-nor would I have invited any one save you, Reginald; but you and my dear Marie are old friends."

"You work none now, Reginald?" "No, Marie, but I collect materials for future work."

"You cannot work in a revolution." "You are right, Charles; too great a richness in materials, and they confused."

"You have no wine, Reginald; fill your glass, and drink to our young Republic."

"I drink anything you like, Charles, excepting bad wine."

"Every artist is at heart a Republican, and you must be one."

"I do not see the connection."

"Of course I am, who else?"

Why, my friend, is your English court much frequented by artists ?" "Not particularly.' "And why is that?"

"Why because, you see, because-" and Reginald stammered considerably. "Because, my friend, to be an artist is nothing-it is not even a rung in your social ladder; your public opinion does not point it out to your royalty, and your royalty knows nothing about it; it is no position, and to go to your court, you must have a position or a purse.

"But you mistake entirely, my dear Charles the arts are highly patronised by our sovereigns; for instance, George the Fourth."

"Yes, I know what you are going to say; I understand. You English artists are like your men-cooks: their dishes are allowed to table, and your paintings are allowed to hang upon the walls of Windsor; but both cook and artist are kept off at their proper distance."

"There is some truth in what you say."

"Then, my friend, your constitution may be very good for dukes, and grandees, and big purses, but it would not suit an artiste like me."

"But things are changing; there is growing up a true taste.

"For your sake, my Reginald, I hope it will be so; but as yet there is only a pretence to taste in your England. If there were true taste, your artiste would be looked up to and not down to."

"However, Charles, I do not despair; we have a woman on the throne; she is young, she is fair. She is said to be an humble student in our glorious science."

"I love your true Englishwoman, Reginald, but your men are all sham." "You are paying compliments to Reginald," said Marie.

66

Reginald, understand me-I mean the Saxon male pretenders to taste."

"Our would-be simpering patrons, who profess to take the artist by the hand confound them!-in the hope, confound them! that a ray of his glory may eventually be put down to their account-confound them !"

Poor Reginald began to puff and fume most fearfully.

"Now, Reginald, Reginald! we must

"Well, Reginald, what do you think of our apartment?"

"It is charming. How long do you stay here ?"

"As long as my friend's horses can keep the canaille quiet."

The hour advanced; the friends had sipped their coffee; the artists had smoked, through Marie's kind permission, some very good cigars, late the property of his Grace of Nemours; and it was time for Reginald to move. "Well, Marie, it is time to say good night."

"Good night, my dear Reginald." "Good night, Charles." "Good night, Reginald; let us see you soon again.'

The Tuilleries had come to life; the sounds of wassail and wild revelry, that smote on Reginald's ear, were symptoms unmistakeable and undoubted of the resurrection. In his descent, he paused to look at a wild polka that had been organised in one of the large saloons. There was every variety that costume or the want of costume could afford-staff uniforms, royal liveries, with the torn, blood-stained, dusty blouse, moved and mingled in the frantic dance.

Our artist was not long without an invitation.

"Come, pretty citizen, you shall have a round with me; this brute dances on my feet."

"With pleasure, fair one."

Music, a polka, a naked bust of fleshand-blood in close proximity, to say the least, are dangerous things for youth to couple with. But Brandon was a youth of some experience—he had taken his degrees before he went abroad; and he had learned in English ball-rooms, and been schooled to gaze with due propriety on the still more lovely, naked, public bosoms of his charming countrywomen. This being so, our friend could bear, without much shock, one naked inch additional.

"That is what I call to dance; you shall be my cavalier all night."

It required some diplomacy to escape, but at length our artist reached the outside of the palace; and he wondered, as he bent his footsteps

homeward, whether plain-bred honesty was not, upon the whole, the wisest policy; and most sincerely did he wish that some of the chief statesmen of the present day could just have taken a turn or two in that same pol

ka; it might have led them to reflect, whether their diplomatic plots and plans, through overcraft and stint of honesty, might not at length be merged into a midnight dance.

THERE may be some desirous to learn how it was our hero lived, whether by his ways and means, or lansquenet, or on his rents; we shall give one instance how our artist gained three hundred francs, enough to keep him for a month, that will suffice for all legitimate inquiry; any further pushing of the matter would strike us as impertinent.

One evening, in the month of March, Reginald was sitting in his small apartment reflecting, as he watched the smoke ascend in graceful curls from his pipe. It is past our power to tell what his reflections were, but it may be Blue-eyes played a part therein; it may be that Ambition lent a hand to colour up the scenes which Hope kept whispering were to be, for Reginald was ambitious; failure upon failure had not quelled his spirit; the morning after a complete defeat he would rise up fresh as ever; you might one time have fitted up a little Louvre with his works; he had them all upon his hands, he could not sell them, but on he worked.

His first failure was a regular rebuff, a knock-down blow; he was senseless for a day, but he got up again. The second failure stunned him for a moment, but he never lost his legs; he staggered through it very fairly. The third failure found him on his guard; his position all through the day was beautiful. Every succeeding failure found him stronger; for the eleventh failure he would not even make the slightest preparation, he felt himself so trained and strong.

Our readers must at once perceive that it was useless for any public to contend against a youth of this sort, growing every hour silently in strength, skill, determination; it may be some one gave a hint to this effect, since the eleventh failure never did arrive. As defeat had never daunted, so success had never spoiled. He was still the

same Brandon, patient, progressive, self-denying; having got at length the upper hand, he was firmly resolved to keep it. And Brandon had good reason to be thankful. How many minds have perished in the ordeal of that terrible apprenticeship-how many have run astray, to perish ere the mind has wrought its masterpiece is sad. Alas! what visions rise to scare us as we write it is as yesterday. We see a young man, bent like the punished schoolboy to his task-work, work; for him there seemed no holiday; ever in that iron harness, labouring on through the lone mountain-paths of stern science; the lark may sing, the world dance without, and all invite to pleasure, still is his doom to labour. At length that great mind reels, Maccullagh climbs to death, and falls a laurelled victim on that height so few attain. The tears of friendship still fall freshly on that grave; and while our country honours the great name, his friends preserve the memory of his worth.

We turn back to where we left our artist: we left him with his fancies and his pipe, and we were just about to tell our readers how it was he made three hundred francs.

The hall-bell rang, and in a moment after Brandon's servant entered to announce there was a gentleman desirous to see her master at once, on most particular affairs.

"Show the gentleman in," said Brandon.

The stranger entered; he was a young Englishman, and immediately addressed the artist

"I have the pleasure to address Mr. Brandon ?"

"My name is Brandon."

"I have a relation dying, a young girl; she may live but a few hours. Can you take a likeness at once?"

"Certainly; I shall do my best,