The result of all this was an utter want of faith in his Majesty's integrity. "Opinion," says Lamartine, "silently or openly declared by the entire masses, began to pronounce that Louis Philippe had betrayed the Revolution; that he was adopting one by one the notions of the ancient monarchy, and of the right divine of kings, instead of conforming to the democratic spirit of the elective monarchy of 1830." His diplomatic dodgery, as well as his tendency to family aggrandisement, were sufficiently illustrated by the memorable case of the Spanish marriages. As a means of preserving something like a balance of dynastic power in the West of Europe, it was desirable to avoid a too intimate alliance between France and Spain. Accordingly, on the occasion of Queen Victoria's visit at Eu, where she was met and entertained by Louis Philippe | for diplomatic purposes, it was arranged between Her Majesty and Lord Aberdeen on the one part, and the King of the French and M. Guizot on the other, that the union of Louis Philippe's youngest son, M. de Montpensier, with the Infanta of Spain, then in contemplation, should not take place until after her elder sister's marriage, nor even until there appeared at least a prospect of a direct heir to the Spanish throne. But, as it subsequently turned out, the French King's word was not his bond: at the same time that Isabella II. was married to her cousin, Don Francisco de Assis, her sister the Infanta was espoused by M. de Montpensier. The Orleans family and the Spanish Bourbon branch were thus adroitly intertwined, with the probable likelihood of supply

As was to be expected, an alliance made simply to promote the interests of a dynasty interrupted the concord which had previously subsisted between France and England. When the French people saw that the unison of the two countries had been suddenly disturbed for the mere sake of family aggrandisement, they became instantly convinced that their King's so much-lauded "pacific policy," was but a political hypocrisy. "From that day forward," says Lamartine, "the sovereign, rendered unpopular with the republicans on account of the throne which he filled, and with the legitimatists by his usurpation, became obnoxious to the peace party, which had hitherto rallied round his Government; since by means of the Spanish marriage he had hung over the nation the menace and possibility of war."

The country, indeed, continued calm on the surface, but below the surface there was a powerful and wide-spread agitation. People began to ask themselves how it was that a great Government like theirs could find nothing to employ itself about save a succession of Court intrigues. Manifold necessary reforms had been waiting for many years, and in regard to none of them had there been any actual progress. In a large and populous country, where the actual electors amounted to only about 80,000, most of them notoriously subject to corrupting influences, could not something be done in the way of electoral reform? Moreover, was it not the business of a Government to try to equalise the national expenditure and receipts, instead of, as had long been the practice, contracting loan after loan to make up the annual deficit, and thus immeasurably increasing, without the prospect of ever paying, an enormous public debt? And all this too in the

and thence to embark to England. Along with the Queen and some other members of his family, he passed through several places, and arrived at Evreux without meeting with any serious impediment. But as intelligence of the recent events in Paris had by that time reached the place, and thrown it into a state of extraordinary ferment, it was not considered safe to attempt a passage through the town. Nevertheless, under the guidance of M. Maréchal, the sub-prefect of Dreux, who accompanied the fugitives, they were conducted by cross roads to a countryhouse belonging to a friend of his, and there sheltered for the night. The owner of the house was absent, but the farmer and his wife, who had charge of it, received the travellers, without knowing who they were; and the King and Queen were shown into a room, where they warmed themselves at the fire, and partook of the rustic hospitality of their humble hosts, who supposed them to be friends of their master. Leaving them to take a little repose, M. Maréchal left the house on foot and proceeded to Evreux, where he sought out his friend, and informed him what distinguished persons were lodging in his house. Having ascertained the best route that could be taken so as to avoid the town, M. Maréchal and his friend joined the Royal family, to make arrangements for conducting them secretly to the coast. The farmer, who was now made acquainted with the rank and misfortunes of the guests he had sheltered beneath his roof, readily devoted himself to their service. Being acquainted with all the byeways in that part of the country, he undertook to drive the King along them, and harnessed his own horses to the carriage for the purpose. Another confidential man was intrusted to drive the Queen by a different route. The travellers set out at seven o'clock in the evening, and travelled all night; meeting each other at daybreak the next morning (the 26th of February), at the Cap d'Honfleur, and, without attracting notice, alighting together at the house of M. de Perthuis-a retired situation concealed by trees, at the distance of about half-an-hour's walk from the town. M. de Perthuis was not at home, but the gardener, an intelligent and trusty man, had been previously made acquainted with the trust that was about to be reposed in him. The good man

inspired his wife and children with the requisite discretion and devotedness. The window-blinds were kept constantly closed; and it was only during the night that smoke was suffered to issue from the chimneys. This confinement and restraint lasted nine days, during which time certain faithful adherents of the King were engaged in arranging means to secure his safe landing on the English coast. All this elaborate precaution was quite unnecessary; as the Provisional Government, inaugurated after his departure, had taken measures to permit of his escape unmolested. In the meantime a young officer of the French navy, who, though unaware of the King's retreat, was led by the rumours afloat to suspect that he was somewhere in the neighbourhood, resolved to make an effort to assist him. It happened that Captain Paul of the English navy, was in command of a steamer near at hand, and to him the young officer repaired, asking him whether he would consent to receive Louis Philippe on board, should he succeed in getting out to sea in a fishing boat. The captain returned for answer that he could not consistently do so with his present orders; but on his arrival at Southampton a few days afterwards, that gentleman communicated to the Admiralty the overtures that had been made to him, and suggested that a steamer, cruising along the coast of France, might be of the utmost service to the dethroned King and his family. This communication induced Lord Palmerston to dispatch instructions to the English Consuls resident in the north of France, which were eventually the means of securing his Majesty's escape.

The rest of the story may be given as related by Lamartine:-"The young French officer, who had interested himself on behalf of the Royal fugitives, having received a message from the English Consul at Havre, succeeded in discovering the King's place of concealment. He introduced the Vice-Consul to Louis Philippe, and it was arranged that the King should embark at Havre, on board one of the vessels employed in the conveyance of cattle and provisions from France to the English coast. For the space of five days adverse winds and a violently tempestuous sea retarded the departure of these vessels. All this time the King was counting the hours, and consuming himself with impatience

in the field to put on the soldier whenever it was required for effect He had been a member of the middle class, of the nobility, and of the Royal class. He had sailed about on adventures, and lived respectably as an émigré in England. He knew something of every sphere, he had found some means of comfort in every condition; also, it would seem, much that was hollow and unreal; for, upon the whole, he may be said to have treated life as if it were a stratagem, which cunning cleverness might considerably improve. Opportunity had courted him, and he not only learned to make the most of it, but also to eke it out with some theatrical pretensions. He had seen life in so many phases that he supposed himself to understand it thoroughly; of course, not being cognisant of those defects in his own character which prevented him from thoroughly apprehending any one circumstance. His mind was active, but commonplace: he could only view things and events in their common aspect; and could scarcely suppose that any man who had seen less could be

wiser than he was. He supposed himself to have the advantage of every man; and as his farthest insight into most things consisted in a perception of the falsehood or hypocrisy that lay beneath the surface, such insight into falsehood seemed to him the final wisdom. The corresponding spirit of his conduct was to adopt on all occasions a policy of cajolery. His success was corresponding-it was superficial. He had every opportunity of a revolutionary career, but went through it all only to settle down at last into the common run of Prince. A constitutional throne was offered to him; but he reverted after all to the old fashions set by his predecessors. He was tried in every relation of life, and did not prove to be of any certain or signal use to his country he was a repeated failure."* Yet in adversity and exile he showed admirable spirit and endurance; and in his final retirement at Claremont he appeared with as much propriety as was ever witnessed in the conduct of a fallen potentate. *"Leader" Newspaper, Aug. 31, 1850.

If the spirit of poetry, infused into the soul with the very breath of life, and brightening from infancy to dawning girlhood, till its flame, too powerful for the frail tenement in which it glows, destroy-if versatile fancy, delicate sensibility, exquisite tenderness and purity and grace-if these give their possessors any claim to rank with the illustrious, then Lucretia and Margaret Davidson enjoy it. Yet a melancholy overclouds their short career, and deepens with our admiration of them. We are made sensible at every step that intellect adorned them, not in Barry Cornwall's words

To light them like a star,

but as the wreathing flame which consumed whilst it heightened their loveliness. They were daughters of the New World, where Poetry breathes among the forests and the mountains, and gives its everlasting voice to the majestic rivers.

LUCRETIA DAVIDSON, the elder of these

two sisters, was born in 1808, in the State of New York. Her father, Dr. Oliver Davidson, was a highly intellectual man; and her mother, notwithstanding many household cares and anxieties, and often much sickness, retained her imaginative and ardent feelings, and appreciated the marvellous mental gifts and dawning genius of her child. As soon as Lucretia could speak, it was discovered that her thoughts were of a deeper nature than those of the children around her; and when she could read she was continually busy with the little books she received as gifts from her father. Long before she could write, she gave her thoughts to paper in awkward Roman characters. In infancy she had her favourite birds and flowers; to these she would address odes, irregular indeed, and very imperfect, but all tinted by true poetic thought. Occcasionally she indited a sonnet to her mother, and at such times a look of grave reflection rested on her face which would have been altogether out of place there,