another reduction of twenty thousand men in the army, having during last year already reduced thirty thousand; this certainly looks like peace. The tender conscience of his Majesty will not permit him to give entertainments during the Carême, but it is his wish that his ministers' examples on this point should be less severe; so there are ministerial balls every night in the week, each one more magnificent than the last. The habit de cour and the culotte court are now de rigueur at these entertainments, and it is said that they will soon be adopted even for private parties. The difficulty of procuring costumes in time for the fête de Luxembourg gave rise to great perplexity and to some amusing incidents; amongst others four young men, invited to this fete, met together at one of the most famous tailors'; each came to order his costume the same day, and this was only the day before the ball; they had received their invitations late, and their last resource and only hope was in this artiste. "Four costumes for to-morrow night, Messieurs!" said the unfortunate knight of the thimble. "But you ask me an impossibility: perhaps, with the greatest difficulty, I might contrive to make one. Yes, I can engage to make one." "For me then!" exclaimed the four voices in concert. "On which of you must I take measure, Messieurs?" Again the four voices answered, "On me?" | dancing at the bal masqué. Poor Uncle Tom! But this is one of the greatest proofs of the popularity of Mrs. Stowe's work. I told you, I think, that it has been dramatised at two theatres-the Ambigu and the Gaîté. At the Ambigu they have altered many of the details, not very important ones, it is true; but at the Gaîté they have adhered faithfully to the story in every point; and the youngest sister of Mademoiselle Rachel, Mademoiselle Dinah Felix, performs the role of Evangeline most charmingly. It is only since the last few days that we have had a specimen of winter: the cold is intense, and the snow falls thickly. We had begun to hope that we should get into the spring without having first to pass through winter; but, like most disagreeables that we fear and dread, we cannot cheat them-sooner or later we must submit. There has been a great deal of illness, owing, I heard, to the unusual mildness of the season; now that the cold is set in, I hear as many, or more complaints of this severe weather, which gives people grippe, fluxion de poitrine, &c. witness in the street, that the prevailing malady I should think, judging from the scenes I amongst horses must be broken knees, for the and it is often infectious, as one horse pulls poor animals slip and fall at almost every step; down his comrade when he falls. Here is what "Le Calendrier des bon Laboureurs for 1618," says on the subject of winter : "Si le douze février Le soleil apparâit entier, L'ors l'ours étonné de sa lumière Car l'hiver tout ainsi que l'ours, A lively discussion was on the point of commencing, when the most ingenious of the youths made a proposal which, for want of a better, was accepted: it was decided that the costume should belong equally to the four. Fortunately, their height and figures were not very dissimilar. On the evening of the ball the four stepped into The believers in somnambulism are impaa coach, one en costume, the other three en tiently awaiting the arrival of a new subject, of négligé, and at nine o'clock the fortunate youth whom marvellous histories are related-a young en costume entered the ball-room; at ten he re-berger, named Postolet, aged sixteen: it seems turned and another took his place in the dress, and went into the Luxembourg at eleven; he returned, and the third took his turn; and so on, the same order was preserved for supper; and the last supped between four and five in the morning. A great subject of perplexity exists among those whose pride is in their beards and moustaches, for they are totally out of character with the costume de cour; some preferred the ridicule of appearing with these adornments, nevertheless, to making the sacrifice of them; and some who heroically shaved them off were stared at, and not at first recognized by their dearest friends, so great was the metamorphose effected The Bœuf Gras this year was called Uncle Tom; two others, also, very fine beasts, and aspirants for the honours of the day, were called St. Clair and Shelby: imagine the refined, the elegant, charming St. Clair represented by a fat ox. There were also a great many Uncle Toms that, among other wonderful performances, this youth remains during thirty-six hours in a state of somnambulism, without awakening; during which time he does his work, follows his usual occupations, accompanies his sheep to the pasture, &c., and answers all questions which are put to him with astonishing lucidity. The Musée des Souverains at the Louvre has just been opened to the public, and forms a most interesting historic collection. It occupies five salles. The first contains the gilt armour of François II., the helmet and brassards of Henri II., the ponderous armour of Henri IV., that of Louis XIII., ornamented with fleurs de lis, and that of Louis XIV. There is also the Salle des Bourbons, containing objects having belonged to the kings of France from Chilperic and Dagobert. There is the Salle de l'Empereur, which contains only the objects which had belonged to Napoleon le Grand, Among other things in the collection is the bureau which belonged to Louis Philippe, and which is just in the state in which it was left after the invasion of the Tuileries in 1848. And now, my dear C., I will not weary yon longer with my gossip, but will say au revoir. Always yours, faithfully, P. OUR CONSERVATORY. THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS.* BY H. W. LONGFELLOW. A mist was driving down the British Channel, And through the window-panes, on floor and panel, Streamed the red Autumn sun. It glanced on flowing flag and rippling pennon, And, from the frowning rampart, the black cannon Sandwich and Romney, Hastings, Hithe, and Dover To see the French war-steamers speeding over, Sullen and silent, and like couchant lions, Their cannon, through the night, Holding their breath, had watched in grim defiance The sea-coast opposite. And now they roared at drum-beat from their stations On every citadel! Each answering each, with morning salutations, That all was well! And down the coast, all taking up the burden, As if to summon from his sleep the Warden Him shall no sunshine from the fields of azure, No morning gun from the black fort's embrazure No more surveying with an eye impartial Shall the gaunt figure of the old Field-Marshal For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer, He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, And as he entered, darker grew and deeper He did not pause to parley or dissemble, Ah! what a blow! that made all England tremble Meanwhile, without the surly cannon waited, From "Putnam's Magazine," Part I.-Published by Sampson Low, Son, and Co., London, 66 A FRENCH POLICE COURT.-A man named Grosours was brought before the Correctional Police, for having picked a gentleman's pocket of his handkerchief in the Champs Elysées. Although aged only thirty, the prisoner has passed not fewer than twelve years in jail, and on the day of the robbery he had only been released an hour, when he was arrested. A policeman having declared that he had seen the prisoner pick the pocket, and had immediately seized him, the prisoner cried passionately, "Ask the ass why he seized me by the collar!"-" Don't speak in that way," said the president, or you will be expelled from the court."-"I am wrong-I ask your pardon; but I am the victim of that fellow. Remark, I do not call him an ass from want of respect to justice. Why did he arrest me?"-"Because he saw you commit a robbery, and he did his duty."-" But he was in such a confounded hurry. On my honour, I again, as I only took it to blow my nose, because should have put the pocket-handkerchief back I had a cold. I am above a paltry pockethandkerchief."-"Why," said the policeman, "did you run away so fast, if you did not intend to keep the pocket-handkerchief?"-" Oh, it was to get it washed; it would not have been polite to have returned it, after using it, without washing."- "That is not very likely," said the officer." Heaven forgive me, if I do not believe the vile creature of the police suspects my honour!"-" Be silent," cried the president, you insult the witness."- "But he attacks my honour."-"Silence !"-" I have, I suppose, the liberty of defending myself. That brigand-" "Silence, I tell you!" cried the president. "If I am to be silent," said the prisoner, "the defence is not free, and I will retire." Here he attempted to climb over the dock, but was prevented. "Let me go, will you? I tell you that the defence is not free. If I had an advocate he would retire; and as I am my own advocate, I may retire too." He again attempted to get away, but being stopped, sat down in a rage, and cried, "This is infamous!" The tribunal condemned him to six months' imprisonment. "I protest," cried he with great solemnity, "because the defence was not free."-Parisian Sights and French Principles. A ROOM TO BE AVOIDED.-On my arrival at North Villa, I was shown into what I presumed was the drawing-room. Everything was oppressively new. The brilliantly-varnished door cracked with a report like a pistol when it was opened the paper on the walls, with its gaudy pattern of birds, trellis work, and flowers, in gold, red, and green, on a white ground, looked hardly dry yet; the showy windowcurtains of white and sky-blue, and the still showier carpet of red and yellow, seemed as if they had come out of the shop yesterday. The round rosewood table was in a painfully high state of polish; the morocco-bound picturebooks that lay on it, looked as if they had never been moved or opened since they had been bought not one leaf even of the music on the piano was dog's-eared or worn. Never was a richly-furnished room more thoroughly comfortless than this-the eye ached at looking round it. There was no repose anywhere. The print of the Queen, hanging lonely on the wall, in its heavy gilt frame, with a large crown at the top, glared on you the paper, the curtains, the carpet glared on you: the books, the wax-flowers in glass-cases, the chairs in flaring chintz covers, the china-plates on the door, the blue and pink glass vases and cups ranged on the chimneypiece, the over-ornamented chiffoniers with Tonbridge toys and long-necked smellingbottles on their upper shelves, all glared on you. There was no look of shadow, shelter, secrecy, or retirement in any one nook or corner of those four gaudy walls. All surrounding objects seemed startlingly near to the eye-much nearer than they really were. The room would have given a nervous man the headache, before he had been in it a quarter of an hour.—“ Basil,” by W. Wilkie Collins, WELLINGTON AND THE COMMISSARY.On one occasion General Picton, enraged at a want of punctuality on the part of a deputy commissary-general, threatened to hang that officer if the provisions were not brought up on the morrow. The Commissary, putting on his best uniform, repaired to the Commander-in-chief, and laid his grievous complaint before him. "Did General Picton really threaten to hang you?" said Wellesley. "He did," replied the Commissary. "Then," said the Commanderin-chief, "I would advise you to go and exert yourself and get up these stores, for General Picton is just the man to do what he threatens." The Commissary went his way, and the provisions were up in time.-Memorials of Wellington. LITERATURE. ictions, RUTH. By the Authoress of " Mary Barton." | certainly, to equivocate with others not to 3 vols. (Chapman and Hall.)-This work, by swerve from the respect for opposito e the authoress of that charming book, "Mary which may make it a matter of pei .al difficulty Barton," has, within the last few weeks, been to help the offender-but still to be true to the subjected to very various comment. We have golden rule. Nor is there a symptom of moral read the book, and the comments also, with the laxity, in "Ruth!" Morality, indeed we believe, deepest interest, and would now fain put in our is never more injured than by indiscriminate, own word. But first, and once for all, we dis- irrevocable condemnation of every grade of declaim all general theory on the subject of female parture trom right in one sex, and a sweeping frailty and its treatment by society. We deem it toleration of guilt in the other. Viewing Mrs. eminently unjust both towards the authoress of Gaskell's aim as only that which we have stated, "Ruth," and those who most profoundly ad- our own impression is that she is right, although mire the spirit of her writings, to regard them in some few of the circumstances of the tale and as laying down any rule newer than the Christian the development of her characters, she may not rule. All-the most-they attempt to do is have been perfectly successful. "Ruth" exhithis: to put it into the hearts and consciences bits a care and anxiety after simple truth which of all men and women, "of good report," to is very rare; and even where there may be a examine themselves and their own motives when slight exaggeration of circumstances we believe any particular course of action towards the erring all is in the range of probabilities. As it is imbecomes needful; not to shelter and entrench possible for us to make even the most faint themselves behind a maxim, but to regard the attempt at criticism without some notice of the sinner as a fellow creature whose case it has action of the story, we will not postpone that become their duty to investigate and deal with fragmentary sketch we are able to give :-We see to the very best of their judgment. Fictions like Ruth in the first instance, then, a gentle, loving, "Ruth" show, in the most simple and natural delicately-reared orphan girl, serving her appren manner possible, the facts of many downfalls, ticeship to a mantua-maker-no exaggerated and of many dooms. Then the question comes, personage, excepting, we cannot help thinking, how has the duty of those most nearly con- on one point; not only is the head of the house nected with the offender been done? Have the generally careless of her pupils' well-being, but erring had a chance? Has not more complete in the case of this one apprentice, of whom she degradation been compelled rather than courted? knows that she has no friends, she does not What, as it appears to us, the authoress of even provide a Sunday dinner and fire. We "Ruth" has in view, is to stimulate those kind think this hardly consistent even with the world. hearts which feel the pressure of conscience, liness of the woman who is, all the while, repreurging them to put forth a little more of gentle sented as anxious to preserve the reputation of independence; not to distrust themselves-not, her young people, and yet throws one of them thus adrift. Ruth, placed in temptation, dev o, almost of a shelter on her only leisure day ignorant of the world, and affectionate, is placed in circumstances which recommend to her benevolent feelings a man destined to be her seducer. He employs her in an errand of charity. She has seen him save the life of a child at some personal risk, and makes a hero of him to herself. Thus is she blinded; yet we are free to own that Ruth falls too easily; and that, for a time, the interest, as well as truth of the narrative, suffers from this cause. It cannot be said that the character, like the lot, of Ruth is an ordinary one. Moreover, she has enjoyed pure moral influences; her own mind has considerable elevation; therefore we are the less satisfied with her easy fall. There is, however, judgment, and nature too, in pourtraying such a young person as morbidly alive to the reproaches of her superior; and Ruth, at the point when, | overwhelmed by the terrors of Mrs. Mason's denunciations, she loses the power of calm judgment, is very true to nature. Our quarrel with her is at an earlier stage. Doubtless the authoress did not overlook the lesson we have most of us at some time or other had to learn, of the mortal injury done to a character by forestalling condemnation. Often, we believe, it is something more than the merely finishing stroke of a downward course. But now the second act opens upon us. The more complicated social difficulty has to be met. The sin is comi the disgrace incurred-how to deal with truthfully, of course. That this was one main point in the author's moral view of the matter, though with consummate skill she teaches her truth by experience of the contrary course, we cannot have a doubt. Ruth reappears with her seducer in a country village in Wales. The selfishness, want of resource, and miserable ennui of the man who to the young apprentice had appeared before all that was manly, noble, and generous, are day by day revealed to her. She loves him-struggles with her consciousness of his ill temper, unreasonable exactions, and want of high feeling for the beautiful scenery which to her is so enchanting. Her native taste and aspiration after the beautiful are repeatedly repelled by him. In this state of mind she meets with a rebuff from a child-is called by evil, though alas! true names. She is awaking to bitter consciousness when her partner in evil falls dangerously ill. His mother -a lofty woman, of uncompromising severity towards the faults of her own sex, but with the We happen to know that it is-or lately was— the rule in certain establishments for apprentices to be driven from the house on the Sunday by the absence of fire and provisions! And we suspect the cases of young girls being friendless and unprotected are too numerous for them to be made exceptions. It surely only rests with gentlewomen professing religion and morality to reflect on this subject, for them to see how good and great a work rests in their hands. If they would but refuse their patronage to ill-conducted establishments, what a revolution would take place!-En. ordinary tenderness towards those of the other -comes, sent for by the alarmed hostess; Ruth is banished and spurned. Desperate, she offends by her passionate anxiety for him. The exasperated lady takes the earliest opportunity which her son's amendment affords of stipulating for the abandonment of this "unworthy creature," of whose arts, of course, the helpless son has been the victim. He feebly expostulates; but selfishness prevails. Fifty pounds are left for Ruth, with a recommendation for the Penitentiary; and the lady and the son depart, unknown to the poor agonized girl. She, however, hears in time to dart after the carriage, which she chases over hill and dale, but cannot overtake. Her brain reels-the consciousness of unutterable misery is too much for infirm nature and weak principle; she rushes on self-destruction, but is checked by a movement of compassion, called forth by another of the persons of the drama who must now appear. Mr. Benson-an infirm, delicate, middle-aged dissenting minister-had come, as was his wont, to pass a part of his summer furlough amid the scenery of this part of Wales. He has seen Ruth-has heard the common report of her position-has grieved over her while reprobating it-has been struck with her child-like timid appearance and look of occasional misery. On this morning he has been witness to her frantic movements, and divines their cause. As she rushes by him to plunge into the stream, he tries to stop her, but meets with a severe fall, and his cry of pain it is that stays her desperate steps. She runs back to aid him-he faints, and the effort to recover and help him back diverts her from her purpose. He skilfully uses compassionate feeling as a commencement of a new moral life, and succeeds in persuading her to listen to his grave and gentle expostulations. She will live-but how? The life this worthy minister has saved, shall it be for good or for evil?-a gradual, growing walk out of wrong into right? or a gloomy, unproductive waste of penetential feeling without moral profit? or a sinking into a lower depth of ill? The worthy man is very poor: he is dependent on his dissenting congregation for nearly his all; weak in health, his sister faithfully sharing his resources and his cares. This sister has not the exquisite tenderness, nor, at first, it would seem, the timidity of the brother. She sees Ruth-can no more abandon her to her fate than the brother can; but, more worldly than he, she must save appearances. Ruth must be sheltered and saved, but not according to simple truth: she must be a widow-a distant relative. A discovery is made that Ruth is likely to be a mother; hence a new difficulty to the brother and sister, both as to absolute maintenance and as to appearances. The fifty pounds, we should have said, had been returned by the poor girl, with her new friends' entire approbation. And then it is that the Benson's capital fault is committed. The merciful but persuadable man is overborne by his sister's arguments, and consents to the deception which is to make them miserable. He does this deliberate wrong to himself-to Ruth-to his con gregation. He does this evil that good may come. Most unaccountably, some of those who have read the book expressly for criticism have not seen that this wrong is not palliated-that it is, on the contrary, marked out to be wrong in every possible mode, both by direct assertion, by the force of the narrative, and by the effect upon the mind of the minister. It is meant, we have no doubt, in part to show that one of the evils of excessive severity for an offence like Ruth's is to induce deception; but this is only an accidental meaning. The great moral of the whole is that no one virtue can flourish at the expense of another, and that although, for instance, Ruth's life is something better than stainless during the years in which she is made to assume the false character, her real self-redemption only commences when all is made known. The rest of the narrative is scarcely within our compass. Ruth's child-a boy-is born; the deception is complete, and Mr. Bradshaw himself, the stately moralist of the congregation, patronises Ruth, and praises the benevolence of the minister. The character of this man is sustained throughout in an admirable manner; and we know that the tyranny of such an elder, of generally blameless but harsh character, exercised in a small congregation, is most real. This man is Mr. Benson's evil genius-his world; to escape his condemnation it is, chiefly, that he goes astray; and one of the finest strokes of art displayed in the whole book is the manner in which the reader's sympathies-so predisposed in favour of the good minister and against the rigid elder-are gradually brought into their rightful place, as the wrong done to the latter by the deceit of the former is made apparent. Very, very seldom have we met with anything in fiction comparable to this. It is needless to pursue our abstract further; for indeed when the facts are once made known, and the reader's mind is delivered from its greatest burden, the actual book can alone tell its story. All that remains for us, we feel, is to observe that, after all, the real social difficulty of a position like Ruth's is left, and wisely, we think, unsettled. She dies, and only in dying receives reinstatement in the respect of her harshest accusers. There is no pretension to place the penitent in a position alike in kind to that of those who have never gone astray. She remains to the last a distinct and peculiar person, the early stain never once escaping from our thoughts. No special conclusion we believe was ever intended by the author; but to set the mind to think and feel is an end in itself. We have said little of the exquisite pictures and touches of nature and character which abound, nor of the fine working up of the whole. Such a novel is not for the day only. It will live we trust to move the hearts and purify the conduct of many readers in times far off. The sorrowing, long, and painful course of an erring woman's life has been often traced before; but the tale of Ruth stands gloriously aloof alike from violations of our moral sense, and from seductive pictures of evil. T. INFLUENCE; OR, THE EVIL GENIUS. By the Author of "A Trap to catch a Sunbeam." (Routledge and Co.)-The purpose of this tale is to show the mischief and misery which may arise from inferior associations and injudicious friendships, and the plan is carried out by means of an interesting and well-written story. Nevertheless we should have liked to have seen higher ground taken by so popular an authoress in reference to the position of her own sex. Her experience must indeed be unfortunate if she has found "woman's friendship" so slight and frail a thing as she describes it at page 10, and we could wish she had not spoken as she does at page 16 of woman's mission being "the proper exercise" of her "paramount influence over man." This is indeed low ground to take; for all social history shows us that what is called "feminine influence" is a sort of agency that is usually exercised by the most inferior type of woman, for the most unworthy purposes. A noble woman never strives to "influence" a noble-natured man. Notwithstanding this drawback, however, the story of "Influence" has much of very decided merit, and well sustains the reputation of the authoress. Without being exactly a juvenile book it is one well calculated for the perusal of young persons. The illustra tions are by John Gilbert, and have all the grace and ease which are to be expected from his pencil. HISTORY IN RUINS: A SERIES OF LET&c., &c.-(London: Chapman and Hall. DubTERS TO A LADY. By George Godwin, F.R.S., lin: M'Glashen.)-This is really a most valuable and delightful book. It is quite extraordinary how ignorant in the mass what are called wellinformed people are with regard to architecture, its history, its laws, or its associations; and a consciousness of this fact must have impelled the author of the present work to the task which he has executed so admirably. These letters embody a popular sketch of the history of archi day, and are written in that easy, interesting style tecture from the Biblical period to the present which cannot fail to fascinate the reader. Numerous woodcuts elucidate the text. THE BOYHOOD OF GREAT MEN.-(Bogue.) The idea which prompted this work is a very excellent one, though we have a suspicion that it was found more difficult to carry out than was at first expected. Unfortunately for the biographer, it is only when men have become eminent, that people seek to dive back and discover the anecdotes and episodes of their "boyhood," and meanwhile the dust of time has been gathering, and the waters of oblivion flowing to entomb and engulf early memories. This volume, however, shows both patience and research on the part of the author, and a determination to teach the lessons of industry and integrity by example. The great men whose early years are here illustrated are generally presented in couples, for the purpose of contrast or comparison; thus of historians Gibbon and Macintosh are given; of statesmen, Canning |