An ancient bailly, of I know not what seneschal, obtained the place of a magistrate. He had never heard a code spoken of. Having to pronounce some simple police punishment, against a boy for stealing apples, he condemned him to five years imprisonment in the galleys! This old bailly was a deputy under the restoration. AN ANAGRAM. I have in my possession a petition, addressed in 1814 to Marshal Soult, Duke of Dalmatia, then minister of War. The petitioner had painted at the top of his petition, a large gilded sun; on one side, he had writ ten the latin word UT, and on the other SOL (as the sun); and at the bottom, the anagram of your name.' from the injury of his horse, he might be compelled to march on foot, and to carry himself, his baggage and his money. To avoid this disagreeable alternative, he resorted to the following expedient. The house in which he was to be quartered at Gap had a garden attached to it. During the night he went into this garden, selected a place which he could easily recognize, dug a deep hole, and buried his 18,000 francs, taking care to cover them in such a way as to leave no marks that might lead to the discovery of his hidden treasure. The next morning he set off, and, on the reorganization of the army, obtained his discharge. Returning to his home, some leagues from Gap, he resumed his trade of a farrier, and married. Not a word ever escaped him on the subject of his money; he even concealed its existence from his wife. After the lapse of two or three months, he announced his intention of going to Gap, for the purpose of buying some articles that he had occasion for. He set out Marshal Soult, who is not of a very gay character, could not, however, prevent himself from laughing heartily at this piece of flattery, so delicately ingenious. I do not doubt that the object of the request was ac-alone and on horseback; on reaching the house of his old hosts he introduced himself, and expressed his unwillingness to pass through their town, without thanking them for the kind reception he had met with on his former visit, and invited himself to dine with them, proposing, that he should be allowed to add something to their repast. They sat down to dinner, and drank largely. Whether the fumes of the wine rendered the farrier more communicative, or whether he thought it impossible to unbury his treasure, and carry it off without being observed, I cannot say; but he determined to reveal his secret to his hosts, and invited them to accompany him into the garden, promising them a mark of his "Half your honor is returned; endeavor to recover gratitude. the remainder." Under the empire, M. B- L- had played with General J, and lost, on credit, 12000 francs, which he was unable to pay. The General and his great sabre inspired him with so much fear, that he dared not leave his house. However, one day he summoned up courage and went to visit the Duke of Rovigo, and begged him tell his misfortune to the Emperor. The Duke seized a favorable moment, and the Emperor gave him 20,000 francs. M. B-L- has doubtless restored these 20,000 francs to the public treasury since 1814, otherwise his honor would have suffered another severe injury. THE FARRIER OF THE TWENTY-SECOND The twenty-second regiment of mounted Chasseurs had been engaged in the war in Spain; it returned to France in 1814. To reach the garrison destined for its occupation it was necessary to pass through Gap. The farrier of this regiment had brought from Spain a sum of 18,000 francs, part in gold, and part in silver; it was, perhaps, the fruit of his economies. The place was recognized, the earth removed, and the money found untouched. The owner, full of delight, proposed that they should empty a few more bottles. Night came on and he accepted with pleasure the hospitality offered to him. The young wife of the farrier did not suffer herself to be much disturbed on account of her husband's absence, though he had promised to return home that evening. She thought some unexpected business might have detained him. But his absence being prolonged through the next and the succeeding morning, she began to feel apprehensive for his safety, and determined to set off with one of her neighbors for Gap. At Gap nobody had heard of the farrier. He had not stated particularly the object of his trip, and they were unable to determine where he had put up. His wife went in vain to all the inns; he had not been seen at any of them. Many days were consumed in fruitless researches; and the unfortunate young woman was about to return, in despair, to her family, when she observed a horse which she thought was her husband's. She hastened to interrogate the individual in whose possession it was, and he stated that he had purchased it a few days before of a person whom he named. The judicial authorities were informed, and immediately While travelling the farrier had observed that the visited the house of the vendor, who proved to be the enormous weight of his porte-manteau, which contained host of the farrier. Being interrogated, he explained in the 18,000 francs, injured his horse. He was unwilling a very unsatisfactory way, the circumstances under to trust his secret and his treasure to any one, and an- which he came in possession of the horse. Pressed by ticipated with no pleasurable feelings the moment when, the cross examinations of the magistrate, he stammered It has been so frequently asserted and even printed, that Doctor Desgenettes inoculated himself with the plague, during the campaign of Egypt; that at the present day no one is permitted to question the fact. In vain did M. Desgenettes a thousand times deny what was regarded as an act of courage, but which he would have considered one of mere folly; he even found persons who asserted that they had seen it-to these he could make no reply. I should not be astonished if, at last wearied with resistance, he should resign himself to believe it like the rest of the world. The place of an Academacian was vacant in the Academy of Sciences; the Baron Desgenettes was among the claims of those who aspired to this honor were disthe candidates to fill it. During the sitting, in which cussed, Baron C-rose to support the claims of Baron Desgenettes: 64 Gentlemen," said he, "there is one incident in the over in silence. The French army in Egypt was decilife of Baron Desgenettes, which should not be passed mated by the plague; it was important to reanimate the expiring courage of the soldiers. M. Desgenelles, my learned colleague, Baron Larrey, and myself, are the only remaining witnesses of the fact I am about to report." Here M. Larrey instantly rose: "Should my colleague, Baron C-, be disposed to communicate any circumstance to the Academy, I beg he will not introduce my name." Baron C-resumed his seat, without adding a word. THE LAW OF SACRILEGE. I never knew any orator who had more tears at his service than M-, of the French Academy. On the day that Picard was buried, the disappearance of M. Auger, the perpetual secretary of the Academy, was announced. M—, as a member of the deputation of the French Academy, had accompanied the remains of M. Picard to the cemetery de l'Est. He pronounced, The law of sacrilege was the introduction of the inin the name of the Academy, the funeral eulogium of quisition into France, but without its masked judges the deceased; and with an emotion that drew tears and its tortures; the guillotine was substituted for the from the whole audience. One hardly weeps for his auto-da-fé, and the inquisitorial officers by the clergy, father as M— did for Picard. I was standing behind to whom the law gave the right of surveillance and of him at the moment that he turned away, after conclu- denunciation. M. de Bonnald, one of the most zealous ding his discourse; he took my arm, and said, shrug-defenders of this law in the Chamber of Peers, justly ging his shoulders: "See what we shall perhaps have characterized it by a celebrated observation: “To kill to repeat to-morrow for Auger." a man accused of sacrilege,” said he, “is to send kim be|fore his natural judge." INOCULATION FOR THE PLAGUE. There are certain falsehoods, which, merely from frequent repetition, have come to be regarded as admitted truths. Thus it is universally acknowledged at the present time, that at the battle of Fontenoy, the English and French, with singular politeness, absolutely saluted and offered each other the first blow. Under the restoration, a minister who availed himself of every possible means to procure some hours of sleep, was accused of sleeping incessantly. A little journal (which I could name,) invented this pleasantry; repeated by others, it was finally received as a serious and well-established truth; it was even used as an argument in the tribune. "The minister of the Interior sleeps," said M. Lab. bey de Pompiéres; "the monkey also sleeps; but when it sleeps it consumes nothing." The reader can easily comprehend the economical conclusion which the venerable deputy, de l'Aisne, drew from this argument. I have occasionally met with individuals who discovered some profound meaning in these words; they always appeared to me but an atrocious jeu-de-mot, which would have frightened, without surprizing me, coming from the mouth of Marat. The expression of Barrere: "The dead alone never return," would have paled before it. I read, long since, an opinion of the Emperor's of the character of M. Bonnald; it is to be found in his correspondence with Carnot, while minister of the Interior in 1815. This opinion, which I should not know where to find at this time, commenced with these words: "More extravagant than profound, resounding because of his emptiness," &c. MOSES' TEN TABLES. Peter Harrison, an annotator on the Pentateuch, remarks that Moses' ten tables of stone were made of Shittim-wood. CONSTANTINE: OR, THE REJECTED THRONE. CONCLUDED. very different, notwithstanding his admiration of the Countess. But now her faded charms awakened no emotion inimical to his present passion, and he listened, without regret, to a development of the scheme which had separated him from the Princess. He turned his gaze from the pallid and delicate Amelia, to the animated and glowing Sophia, and rejoicing in the pos By the Author of "Sketches of Private Life and Character of session of such a woman, yielded, without reluctance, to William H. Crawford." CHAPTER XIII. Oh my soul's joy! If after every tempest comes such calms, May the winds blow 'till they have waken'd death. * * * "Twere now to be most happy, for I fear Othello. her solicitations in favor of Alexius. Indifferent to the Princess, and desirous of appearing amiable in the eyes of her he loved, he acceded, with a generous promptitude, to the restoration of his former favorite, expressing, however, a curiosity to learn more minutely the details of this strange event. The promised pardon given, Amelia allowed the Grand Duke to lead her to a seat, between himself and the Countess, where she recapitulated what she had said, and added those minute details which proved, at the same time, her inventive powers, and the strength and sincerity of her love. What a load was taken off the oppressed bosom of She painted, in the strongest colors, the struggles of Amelia, when informed by the Countess, of Constan- Alexius-his fidelity to his Prince-his determination tine's relinquishment of his claims on her, and the to die rather than betray the confidence reposed in him. transfer of his affections to her cousin! She threw her- She depicted the manner in which, while he endeavored self in a transport of joy on the bosom of Sophia-she to awaken in her bosom sentiments of regard for his covered her cheeks with mingled tears and kisses-she | beloved master, he had undesignedly inspired her with sobbed aloud, and for some time could not articulate love for himself-his horror on discovering this to be the congratulations she wished to offer her cousin. the case-his consequent avoidance of her presenceThe Countess might have mistaken the cause of her his resolution to fly from her-his absolute silence reviolent emotions, and attributed her tears to regret for specting his own feelings-his scrupulous concealment what she had lost, had she not been long assured of the of his internal struggles-which no word, no look of his secret inclinations of the Princess. A full explanation ever betrayed; and that the instinct of sympathy alone now took place, and the feelings of their long locked-up had revealed to her the secret of his bosom. She conbosoms now mingled in perfect confidence and tender fessed she had left no means untried to bring him to a sympathy. confession, but that he had remained unshaken in his Amelia entreated the Countess that she would, with-fidelity, and was ignorant of her designs and the artifice out delay, procure for her a private audience of the she had practised. Grand Duke, and to enforce her supplications for the pardon of her duplicity, and her solicitations in behalf of Count Alexius. The Countess promised all that was required;—the request for a private audience was made, and granted. With trembling steps, and a beating heart, leaning on the arm of her friend and kinswoman, Amelia entered the apartment where Constantine awaited her. Still pale and emaciated, but no longer divested of her natural grace and loveliness, she ap-it." proached him, and before he could prevent her so doing, she sank at his feet, and would not rise until she had Duke, evidently displeased at the statement of a fact in made a full confession of the artifice she had practised-- | the motives by which she had been governed; but above all, until she had obtained the pardon of Alexius, The Prince, more than once, would have interrupted her narration, to raise her from her knees, and lead her to a seat; but she resisted his kind endeavor, and refused to rise until Constantine should promise to restore his friend to confidence and favor. The Countess joined her entreaties to those of the Princess; and, although bewildered by the metamorphosis he beheld, and but half comprehending the hurried and imperfect details given him by Amelia, he was himself too happy in the accomplishment of his own desires, to resent, as he might otherwise have done, the imposition practised on him. Had the lovely supplicant appeared in all the glowing beauty of which sickness and anxiety had deprived her smiling and radiant as his imagination had painted her, the effect she produced might have been "But the picture which he sent me," exclaimed Constantine--" does not this betray concurrence with your design-a participation in your imposture?" "He never saw that picture," replied Amelia. "How," cried the Countess, "was it not painted in his presence as well as mine?" "then "Let the picture be sent for," said Amelia; you shall decide whether you or the Count ever saw "What new invention is this?" asked the Grand opposition to the assertion of the Countess. “Oh, pardon, pardon the daring artifice of a love by which I must live, or by which I must die. I entreat your highness to have the picture brought forward, and then let my cousin decide." The picture was accordingly sent for. The moment the Countess cast her eyes on it-"That," she exclaimed, "is not the portrait of Amelia-that is not the picture which I saw carefully packed up; for so precious did we deem what we thought a miracle of art, and a most perfect resemblance of the dear original, that I would not entrust its package to another; but stood by, until I saw it, with every possible precaution, put up ready for transportation. What, then, does this mean?” The Prince looked the same inquiry. "This picture," replied Amelia, "I painted. Theresa watched an opportunity, when, unseen by any eye, she, by my direction, opened the case in which the real porVOL. III.-92 The Grand Duke soon left St. Petersburgh, and returned to his government in Poland, and thus restored his bride to her native country, to which she felt a warm and patriotic attachment. trait was packed, and substituted this in its place. By | Pzinski was solemnized. On the same day the Printhis device I expected to change the inclination of your cess Amelia gave her hand to Count Alexius, and highness for the original, and that such would have been never perhaps were brighter faces assembled round an your disgust, that your proposals would have been in- altar in a royal chapel, than those exhibited on this stantly withdrawn. My inexperience did not anticipate day. any dangerous consequences, and filled me with hopes of thus easily realizing my fondest wishes. In this expectation I was disappointed; and it was not until ruminating on various impracticable projects, that driven to despair, I adopted the strange and perilous one which has so happily succeeded-happily, believe me, my lord, for all parties-for, my dear and excellent cousin is far worthier than I could ever be of the high destiny that awaits your bride." "Yet this high destiny had no temptation for you?" "Love is a stronger passion than ambition," replied Amelia. "True, most true," said Constantine, casting an expressive and significant glance at the Countess. "But the original portrait ?" "Is now concealed in my cabinet at home. It is destined for the man my heart has chosen; if a cruel fate forbids our union, it shall perish, as I shall perish!" "Love triumphs!" exclaimed Constantine, looking from one to the other of the lovely women between whom he sat, thinking of the conquest it had gained over himself. "Yes, love is stronger than ambition; but friendship is mightier still, since Alexius could sacrifice love to its sacred dictates. Happy moment! one of the happiest of my life, that thus restores to me a true friend that thus affords an unprecedented example of perfect love and perfect friendship." The glad tidings were immediately despatched to Count Alexius, who was not only restored to past favor and past rank, but to an increased degree of both. Why attempt to describe the re-union of Amelia with her heroic lover? yes, heroic-for, true heroism is not to conquer in the field of battle, but in the conflict of passions; self-conquest is the greatest victory man can achieve. The trials through which they had passed, not only compensated, but seemed to enhance their present felicity language is inadequate to convey an idea of the transports of joy and tenderness that fill the youthful hearts of fond and faithful lovers. But once in the life of any individual can such emotions be felt with equal strength and purity; these first blossoms of sensibility are as lovely, but alas, as evanescent as the bloom of spring; as easily destroyed by indifference, as that by the nipping frost. Amelia and Alexius had struggled with destiny-had triumphed over almost insuperable difficulties; and like mariners, long tempest-tossed, doubly enjoyed the security they had attained; but were not so engrossed by their own happiness, as not warmly to participate in that of Constantine and Sophia. The Grand Duke, impatient of delay, even in the most trivial affairs, would not yield to any on this occasion; and his indulgent mother, eager to complete so pure and rational a scheme of happiness, threw no impediment in the way of the immediate accomplishment of his wishes. It may easily be imagined none were raised by the good Elector. The ceremony of betrothment was celebrated with the magnificence usual on such occasions-and a few weeks afterwards, the marriage of the Grand Duke and the Countess Sophia The Princess Amelia, with the husband of her choice, and the proud and happy Elector, went to Germany, where the young couple were to pass some months previous to making a visit to Moscow, where the noble family of Count Alexius resided, with whom Amelia was to remain, while the Count should be absent on military duty, to which the state of his country imperiously called him. Constantine, on his return to Poland, fixed his residence at Warsaw, where he continued during the remainder of Alexander's reign, to enjoy the domestic happiness he had purchased by the sacrifice of his birthright. In marrying a man of his character, the Countess Sophia could not have hoped to be exempt from severe trials, both of her temper and affections. One cause of dissatisfaction was soon developed by the peculiar circumstances of her beloved country. The spirit of liberty, though suppressed, was not extinguished. The latent flame was continually betraying itself, and while the patriotism of the Countess would have impelled her to fan every spark, the duty of the Grand Duke as imperiously required him to smother the smouldering fire. Interests and feelings in such direct opposition, often produced painful and troubled scenes, and might have led to consequences alike fatal to public tranquillity and domestic peace, had not the patriotic zeal of the Countess been regulated by prudence, and a high sense of her duty as a wife. The conflicting views and feelings, though a cause of distress, and sometimes of discord, never destroyed the ascendancy her virtues and talents had obtained for her, over the heretofore indomitable disposition of the Grand Duke; for, not even his mother had ever gained so controlling and benign an influence. If, therefore, not perfectly happy, she never complained, knowing that she only shared the common destiny, which has made life a scene of mixed joy and sorrow; and while she keenly felt the pains, she as vividly enjoyed the pleasures that fell to her lot. The inconstancy and caprice of Constantine's affections, was the keenest of those pains; still, whilst she preserved his confidence, esteem and respect, she could support, not only in silence and patience, but even with a cheerful tranquillity, his infidelities, his moroseness of temper, and even his paroxisms of passion, from which others fled in terror; and in moments of the most furious anger, her imperturbable E greatly improved; he is, however, excessively weak. mildness, her unalterable sweetness of manner, could | your uneasiness; you have seen the bulletins, and calm his violence-as oil poured on the tumultuous therefore know the despair to which we were yesterday waves of the ocean, smooths its roughened surface. reduced, and still more so last night; but the physicians Excess, or intemperance of any kind, produces a phy-to-day declare the state of our dear patient to be sical disorder, and a moral dissatisfaction, which sends the votary of pleasure home from his dissolute haunts, in a condition of all others the most difficult to please, and the most prone to violence. Then is the auspicious moment for virtue to exert her benignest influence, and to display its peace and pleasantness, in contrast with This letter could not dissipate the extreme anxiety the turbulence and irritation of vice and licentiousness. of Constantine, notwithstanding the glimmering of Then the cordial warmth of true and pure affection-its hope it contained. He sank into a gloomy reverie, from tender cares and cheering accents, fall with healing which he was seldom roused, but by the hourly arrival power on the perturbed feelings of the exhausted and of couriers from St. Petersburgh. Independent of his dissatisfied voluptuary; then, although his wandering own interests-his own determinations-he felt a deep inclinations and affections may not be reclaimed, his and awful concern for his country-aware that the esteem and confidence will reward the generous woman approaching crisis was big with the fate of the empire. who thus palliates the errors, and patiently endures the To break the regular line of succession, was a daring, evils she cannot prevent, Friendship is more than an and might be a fatal act-one to which the people might equivalent for the capricious and inconstant impulses of not submit; and, in case of resistance, in what difficullove; and, while a woman continues to be the trusted ties might not he-in what evils might not the nation and respected friend of her husband, she may be even be involved! His mother had warned him of these happier than when the idol of his fancy, or the object of dangers-had predicted his repentance of his rash and his raptures; and such was Sophia. Instead of meeting unprecedented act. Her prediction was not realized— him, on his return from scenes of disorder and debau- he did not repent the act of abdication—perhaps the chery, with angry words and a frowning countenance, threatened consequences would prove equally unand chilling coldness, she welcomed him with cheerful grounded. This, only events could prove; and, in the kindness, if not with fond affection, administered sooth-meantime, the thoughts of the Prince were gloomy ing restoratives, and made him so sensibly feel the difference between the enjoyments of virtue and vice, that even amidst the excesses of vicious pleasure, home and happiness were ideas inseparably connected in his mind; or rather, happiness and Sophia, to whom, after every wandering, he instinctively and eagerly returned. The influence thus gained, the Countess turned to the best account; she healed, by her gentleness, the wounds his harshness too often inflicted on his dependants; she alleviated the sufferings, and sometimes redressed the wrongs endured by an oppressed people; and whatever he might be abroad, made her husband | the imperial throne, took possession of her fancy, and respected and beloved at home. Such were the results of prudence and gentleness-qualities in a wife, which often counteract the evils incident to married life; and even where they fail in procuring happiness, at least secure tranquillity and peace. and perturbed. As for Sophia, tenderly as she sympathized with the affliction of Elizabeth, she could not entirely suppress the risings of ambition, a passion inherent in her nature. She watched with restless anxiety every expression that passed over the countenance of her husband, and hoped that the deep thoughtfulness and abstraction into which he had fallen, was occasioned by regret for the abdication of his right of succession, and irresolution in adhering to it. In spite of her better feelings, she could not but wish he would resume and assert his birthright. The dazzling idea of ascending bewildered her mind. Nor could she believe that one so enterprising and intrepid as Constantine, could remain insensible to the charms of absolute power, and thought however indifferent he might have been when the object was remote, and his feelings under the doThis state of negative enjoyment and domestic quiet, minion of an unsatisfied passion-that now, when that was, however, soon interrupted by alarming rumors of object was within his grasp, and his passion cooled by the illness of the Emperor, who, during the past year, possession, he would, oh yes, he certainly would resume had been making a progress through the distant pro- his abdicated right to the crown. When however, vinces of the empire; and was, when news of his illness under this persuasion, she ventured to hint at such a arrived, on his return from the Crimea. The empress-possibility, he rebutted it with anger, and forbade her mother remitted to Constantine a letter she had received indulgence of such a hope. This command she could from the Empress Elizabeth, who had accompanied her husband, in hopes of relieving the mind of her son from the alarm the exaggerations of rumor might have excited; he eagerly unfolded the letter. not entirely obey. The one idea of imperial greatness, to the exclusion of almost every other, absorbed every thought, until by dwelling on its possibility, she almost persuaded herself of its certainty, and she anxiously and impatiently counted the passing hours which were to bring tidings of an event that she trusted would realize her proud aspirings. "My dear mother," wrote the Empress, "I was not in a state to write to you by the last courier. Today-a thousand and a thousand thanks to the Supreme Being there is decidedly a great improvement in the This state of suspense did not last long, however. health of the Emperor. For whom should God not The fond prayers of the wife--the mother-the emmanifest his infinite mercy, if not for this angel of be-pire, could not prolong the days of Alexander. In the neficence and goodness! meridian of his glory-the prime of manhood--in the "Oh, my God! what moments of affliction have I fullness of happiness—in the midst of a progress through passed! and you, dear mother-I can picture to myself the nations that blessed his sway-in a remote part of |