"Where is the prefect?" said M. de L, on entering, to a young secretary whom he saw in the cabinet.

"Who supplies his place here?" "The secretary-general."

"Look for him, I have occasion to speak to him." In an instant M. de Walknaer, the secretary-general arrived. He was unable to suppress a movement of fear on finding himself in the presence of a man of so ferocious an appearance, and whose half-opened coat permitted him to catch a sight of the knobs of two pistols.

"You are the secretary-general?" "Yes, sir."

"How is it that a prefect absents himself from his office at such a critical moment? M. de Chabrol is no longer prefect of the Scine: here is the new prefect." "But, Sir-"

"Here is the new prefect," replied M. de L- -, pointing to M. Morin; "if you are not disposed to obey him, to serve under him, you can retire. I will provide a person to fill your place."

But, Sir, I do not refuse."

ness is it?"

"It is the duty of M. Monnet, Chief of division." "Have him called."

M. Monnet arrives; and M. de L————, after exchanging a few words with the general, informs him that the Emperor of Russia desired to fix himself in the Champs Elysées, the Emperor of Austria on the Boulevards, and the King of Prussia in the faubourg St. Germain. M. Monnet informed them that the designation of the lodgings was an affair of the corporation authorities; and was about to say something else, when M. de L who felt the value of time, interrupted him

suddenly :

"Come with us, Sir."

On descending, M. de L- — observed in the courtyard a carriage in waiting;-it was M. de Chabrol's, which M. de Walknaer was about to send in great haste for him. On a sign from M. de L——————— the coachman drove up at the foot of the steps;-a domestic opened the door ;--M. de L caused the general to enter,

M. de Walknaer having withdrawn, M. de L recommended M. Morin to exhibit an air of firmness and sang-froid, and left him to examine the situation of things without. M. Morin's first act was to despatch the proclamation, of which he had only two or three copies, to the printing office of the prefecture, ordering copies of it to be struck off and posted in every part of Paris.

'My friends," said M. de L on entering, "I have succeeded;-the national guard is paralyzed ;-Morin is at the Hotel-de-Ville where I have established him as prefect ;-I have a Prussian general with me in a carriage which belongs to I know not whom ;--he believes me a high officer ;--I will profit by him as far as I find necessary before he is disabused.” "Bravo! bravo! bravo!"

A member of the committee offered to accompany M. de L

"Take a basket of white cockades, some proclamations, and follow me." M. de L returned to the carriage, and informed the general that the member of the committee was one of his agents. They then proceeded to the faubourg St. Honoré, in which the mayoralty of the first arron

In crossing the Boulevards near the Madeleine, M. de L observed a collection of people; he had the

"I am looking for the magistrate, the prefect." "I am the person, general, what do you desire ?" "I come to arrange with you for the passage of the troops, and the lodgings of the Emperors of Russia and Austria, of the King of Prussia, and the Princes, who accompany them."

"Have the goodness to follow me."

crowd that surrounded him. He informed them that the allied powers had recognized Louis XVIII, and he invited them to join him in crying vive le roi! He affected to appeal to general Plotho, who, understanding French but imperfectly, replied by a gesture of affirmation. Cries of vive le roi! were then heard among the crowd. He distributed some proclamations, threw out a handful of white cockades, closed the door, and ordered the driver to proceed.

by a band of insurgents. Bonaparte is still at Fontainebleau, the national guard of Paris is numerous, and we shall have everything to fear, if we do not take energetic measures in favor of the Bourbons, and of public repose. I pray you be so good as to sign an order for setting at liberty M. Morin, prefect of the Seine, and for replacing him at the head of his administration."

The general signed it without hesitation. They might have made him sign an order to set fire to the four corners of Paris with as little difficulty.

Thus the first blow had been struck. A great step had been accomplished. The success of this day (it was a great success not to have failed) would naturally add powerful auxiliaries to the royalist committee. The danger was passed; the foreign armies had entered Paris; from all sides came forth the chiefs of the party, who had disdainfully repulsed the overtures of M. de Semallé men who had only appeared the morning after the victory, but who wished to gather its fruits. The cries of vive Louis XVIII! but rarely heard on the 31st of March, had become much more frequent on the 1st of April, at the moment that the Russian imperial guard defiled along the Boulevards.

And yet the allied Princes had not pronounced themselves; after having declared that they would not treat again with Bonaparte, they waited the development of events. The Emperor of Russia had proclaimed his intention of respecting the constitution that France might choose for herself.

After the first successes of the royalist committee at No. 36, in the rue de l'Echiquier, a second committee had been formed at the house of Madam de Morfontaine, daughter of Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau. This was an aristocratic royalist committee. Nearly everything had been terminated, when they set themselves to discussing the question, who ought to be called to the throne. Count Ferrand spoke in favor of the Bourbons, and proposed that they should address themselves to the senate. From all sides exclamations of, no, no-no senate! broke forth; and it was determined that a deputation should be sent to the Emperor of Russia. This deputation composed of Count Ferrand, the Duke of Larochefoucauld, Doudauville, Châteaubriand, de Laferté-Méum and Semallé was not received by the Emperor Alexander himself. M. de Nesselrode was deputed to meet the committee, and he announced the favorable dispositions of the Emperor.

Already the power of the press was understood. Only five journals were then published in Paris; but these were sufficient to give public opinion a direction that might overturn all the plans of the royalist committees. M. de L- was on his guard. Presented by his new friend, General Piotho, he had been received with great kindness by General Sacken, governor of Paris. He received a magnificent certificate of his royalism from this gentleman. (See appendix No. 4.) General Plotho gave him to understand that M. de L was a man who could be relied on, endowed with great energy, and that he might be of the greatest service. In a council at which Prince Wolkonski assisted, it was decided that M. de L- should be associated with the governor of Paris. As soon as he entered upon the duties of his office, he obtained an order appointing M. Morin censor-general of all the journals, with express orders to every editor to print

nothing without written authority from the supreme director of the press. (See appendix No. 5.)

All the imperial censors, with the exception of the one attached to the Moniteur, were put aside. M. Morin substituted them by Messrs. Demersan, for the Journal des Debats; Salgues, for the Journal de Paris; and Michaud, for the Gazette de France.

Everything being thus prepared, it is easy to understand the facility with which the restoration was effected. That part of the population which had been deceived, precipitated itself before a new power, which it was told was recognized and proclaimed, and in which every one saw the dispenser of favors. The authorities followed the impulse given by this part of the [population; and the allied sovereigns, deceived in their turn, yielded to what appeared the unanimous wish of France.

The departments had pronounced themselves before Paris; those of the south particularly, where the Duke d'Angoulême had showed himself in the suite of the army of the Duke of Wellington. The department of Gironde, as soon as the telegraph had transmitted to it the news of the entry of the foreign armies into Paris, sent a deputation to Prince Talleyrand, president of the provisionary government. This deputation was charged to ask the recall of the Bourbons. But in these departments the unanimity was exhibited under the same forms as at Paris. There, as at Paris, it was an imperceptible minority, but a minority triumphing under the protection of foreign bayonets, dictating the law to an immense majority, but to a majority pa ralyzed by terror.

In proportion to the occupation of the cities of France by the armies of the enemy, the royalists pronounced themselves in favor of the Bourbons. At Troyes there were two who had the courage, in the presence of the Russians, to resume the cross of Saint Louis; but they wore it by a gold chain, the red ribbon, according to them, having been dishonored by the Legion of Honor. The Russians beat a retreat after the battle of Montereau: one of the two chevaliers of Saint Louis departed with the head quarters of the Emperor Alexander; the other could not determine to abandon his wife, who en treated him, on her knees, not to leave her. Tried by a military commission, he was condemned to death and shot. After his death, his insonsolable widow was twice re-married.

One would think that the restoration had, doubtless, shown itself generously grateful to the men who thus exposed themselves in its service. Henry IV, that Prince who has been called the best of Kings, said, “ "I have no occasion to purchase my friends." This was also the maxim of his descendants. M. Morin, conspirator, prefect of the Seine for some hours, censor-general of the journals, afterwards chief of the first division in the department of the minister of police, &c. &c., died almost literally of hunger. M. de L——————, charged with the most important missions at the commencement of the restoration, a royal commissioner for the purpose of procuring the acknowledgment of the Bourbons, an envoy to Orleans, to take possession of the imperial treasure, and the diamonds of the crown, charged in 1815 to excite several departments, was never enabled to get the expenses of his voyage reimbursed, nor to obtain the retiring salary due to his rank.

THE FISHERMAN OF VENICE.

For the Tale upon which is founded the following little Poem, the reader is referred to "Sketches of Venetian History," vol. I. p. 181. It will be found to be nearly the same with that here offered him in verse.

The hoary-headed Fisherman

In the Doge's Palace stands,
To the guardians of the Treasury,
Bearing St. Mark's commands-
And holding there a massive ring,
He bade them note it well,

As token of a victory

Over the powers of Hell.

"Last night," the ancient man began,
"By the Riva of St. Mark,

From thundering waves that wild rushed by,
I moored my crazy bark-

And gazing on the blackening sky,
I said, in deep dismay,

'Here will I shun the angry flood,
Until the dawn of day.'

And foaming on with snowy crests,

The waves roared hoarsely past;

And the dirge of many shipwreck'd souls
Came screaming on the blast.
'St. Mark! It is a fearful night!'
Thus cowering down, I said;

'Fiends seem to rule the stormy flood-
A night to wake the dead!'

'Well spoke! Well spoke!' and at my side,
Robed in a mantle dark;

Now first I found a stately form,

Of a moulding tall and stark.

'Well spoke! A night to rouse the dead
From their silent cells below;
For they have work this night to do,
Holy and high I trow.

But haste! Unmoor thy little bark-
I seek San Giorgios' shore;
And I have chosen thine aged arm
To speed my passage o'er.'
'Now God forbid!' I cried aloud,

As the stormy wind swept by;
'No boat may live upon the wave,

And the tempest roars on high.
I would not tempt the waters' wrath
For a noble's state and store-
For he who trusts the sea to-night,
Will reach the land no more!'
'Oh, weak of faith!' the stranger said;
And his voice fell on my ear
With the persuasive melody

Of a flute, breathed soft and clear.
'Oh, weak of faith! A thousand storms

Were powerless all to harm;
Guided to do their purposed work

By God's Almighty arm.

Push out-for in that Holy Name,
I seal thee safe from ill-

And we shall reach San Giorgios' strand,

A mission to fulfil.'

Then, by some hidden power impell'd,
I might not read aright,

I launched my feeble boat again
Into the wrathful night.

The storm-wind cried, and foamed the sea,
And the black clouds lowering hung-
Creak'd the frail timbers of my bark,
As o'er the flood she sprung-
Now high into the howling heaven,
Upon the waves' white crest.
And now we sank in the cavern'd gloom,
Where the sea-wrecks silent rest.

And now we labor'd in the face

Of the wild and reckless wind-
And now we sped like an arrow's flight,
Leaving the land behind.
And hushed I sat, and powerless all
The bark to guide aright;
But he who then companioned me,
Seem'd to control her flight.
Brief time endured our rapid race
With wind, and storm, and flood,
Ere safe upon San Giorgios' strand
My bold companion stood.
'And rest thee here, a little space,

Thou aged and weary man.'
Thus spake he then, and vanished straight
In the night-gloom thick and wan.
And there I paused a silent space,

Until the Form returned-
When at his side mine aged eyes

Another shape discerned.

Then both were seated in my boat,

And bade me leave the shore, And fearless to San Nicolo

Attempt the passage o'er.

And now the hurrying night-winds howl'd,
As with the wild fiend's voice-
And the angry sea to white foam lash'd,

Seemed maddened by the noise;

And the boat dash'd on, all recklessly

Dancing above-below

And o'er the roaring element

Hurl'd wildly, to and fro.

'Fear not! fear not!' the strangers cried,
When my heart grew sick with dread—
Then, nerved anew, I looked abroad,
As on our way we sped.

The heavy foldings of the clouds
Seem'd resting on the sea;

And urged through darkness, mist, and spray,
Like a free bird, on sped we.
And as San Nicolo we neared,

My comrades sprang on shore;
And I was left in waiting there,

Darkling and lone, once more.
But once again they sought my bark-
And now another form

Came forth our voyage to partake-
Our war with sea and storm.

'Launch forth again,' the stranger cried,
(He of the voice divine)

'And seek the Lido's castled shore,

A guerdon rich is thine.'

And now, three shadowy shapes my freight,

I dared the waves again

But o'er me fell wild recklessness

Of storm, and sky, and main.

Then leaped my light bark to the race,

Cleaving the black night fast, And quivering on in every plank, The raging foam she chased

From wave to wave, that roared aloud,

As clear and keen she past.

And now the strait we gained-and lo!
A galley flying came-
Preceded by a fiery breath--

A galley wreathed with flame:
The masts seem'd pillars of clear fire-
The ropes intensely red-

And sheets of flame, that served for sails,
Free to the storm were spread.
And devils black, with treacherous eyes,
All gleam and keen deceit;

I marked them well, Oh! Signors, then,
And saw their cloven feet!
And these were hurrying to and fro,
About the Ship of Hell,
And glowing tridents flourishing,
Working some grievous spell.

And still they threatened, as they came,
To sink the city down

Into the dark and cavern'd deeps,

Where shipwreck'd wretches drown.
And, as I looked through the gloomy air,
I saw the red hot glow,

Cast from the black fiend's ship of fire,
Over all Venice flow.

And methought I saw our anchor'd isles
Rock straining o'er the wave-
And a black gulf yawn to seize the state,
That only God might save.

And then, in deep despair, I shut

My pained eyes from the sight; And muffled in my cloak my head, In grieved and wild affright.

But hark! I heard that voice again,

And cast my cloak away

And the Three stood up, and cross'd themselves,
And seem'd aloud to pray.

And they conjured the mocking fiends,
In the name of Christ and God,

Till they rent their flaming garments off,
And in helpless torments stood;
And whilst they grinned in agony,
Calm fell o'er sky and flood.

And straight the flame sails, flaring wide,
Burned faint and sickly blue;
And the ship and cordage, waxing wan,
Paled to that livid hue-

And a sulphurous breath steam'd thick and hot,
Over the dark night air,

And their outlines less distinct became,
And they howled in grim despair:
And then, as if a thunderbolt

Had sped along the sea,

A crash-a yell-and all were gone--
And lone and dark were we;
And the rescued city stilly slept,
Lulled in security.

And now the winds past lightly on,
And the waves curled gently by,
And we floated to San Nicolo,
Softly and silently.

And then one Form from out the Three
Glided ashore, and past—

And again to the scarcely heaving waves,
My restless boat I cast.

And at San Giorgios' strand we paused,
And a second left the boat-

And again, with my first companion bold,
Was the weary bark afloat.
'And, ere I land you, Signor brave,'

Thus to the last I said,

'I pray you that my guerdon fair
May for my toil be paid ;
An aged and impoverished man,

I rack these limbs for bread-
And poor the home their pain supplies,
Scarce shelter for my head.

And he who hath the might to save,

Hath riches to bestow;

And the hand that wrought a miracle,
May bless me ere I go.'

'Right, friend,' the stately shape replied,

'Thy toil shall well be paid-A blessing rest upon thy head!

Thou hast Saint Mark to aid. Go to the Doge, and Signiory,

And bid them note it well-
The Saints have gained a victory

O'er all the Powers of Hell.
Tell them, Saint Mark, Saint Nicholas,
And bold Saint George, to-night
Have saved their city from the flood,

Through God's protecting might.
And tell them of thy peril past,

And of the fiery sight;
And say that one unholy Monk
Hath made this work of pain
Selling his soul unto the fiend,

For earthly power and gain.

And yesternight he hanged himself,

In anguish late and vain

And thus the devil's power obtained,

To work your city ill

Hence! claim your guerdon from the Doge, St. Mark will keep you still!' 'Sooth, Holy Saint, such tale,' I said, 'I to the Doge may tell,

Nor yet the nobles yield belief

The saints protect them well!
And I shall buy but scoff and scourge,

With all the Fiends of Hell!'

'Thy words are true,' the saint replied; And forth he drew this ring,

'Go! bid them search the treasury,

And thence its fellow bring-
And if no match may there be found,
Then, by this token known,
They shall believe the miracle,

And the foul fiend overthrown!' Then spake the Doge and nobles all, 'Go! search the treasury,

And if the fellow-ring be found,

The fisherman shall die;

For none could take the signet thence,
By force or treachery.'

And well they searched the treasury