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Annette hid her face in her apron, and prayed also; for she knew that in his heart the strong man wept,' and she was comforted by the conviction.

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a plaything of the docile spaniel. But Annette loved the animal for her dead mother's sake, and not one harsh word had she uttered to poor Fancy since it had been bequeathed to her: great, therefore, in her gentle eyes, appeared the unkindness of her husband, when, as he turned away from the bright smiles of his children, he spurned with his foot the poor animal which was sleeping beside him; a faint whine escaped the startled favourite, and she looked inquiringly towards her master, as though in her mute sagacity she would have asked in what she had offended; but that master was in no mood to answer the appealnothing makes us less tolerant of the feelings of others than the consciousness of error in ourselves; and in a dogged and determined silence Paul strode from the cottage.

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Come hither, my Jessie,' said the young mother, anxious to hide, even from her child, the excess of her emotion; you have not fed your pets to-day-here is food for them: go, my love, carry it into the garden, in the bright sunshine, among the flowers.'

The little girl needed no second bidding; she even outran her instructions: for, carrying the treasure which her mother had confided to her, and followed by the two hungry candidates, whom the unwonted temper of their master had this day condemned to a somewhat protracted fast, she passed the wicket of the cottage-garden, and even ventured a little way down the green lane which led to the high road. Jessie was somewhat of a disciplinarian, and always punished the impatient short barks of Hero, who appeared to fancy at times that the beauty of his companion induced a slight degree of partiality in the distribution of their food. Jessie gathered on this occasion a tall blue-bell, and armed with this badge of authority, and having duly lectured her canine playmates on the enormity of greediness, began to feed the anxious and half-starved animals.

The food had nearly all disappeared, when a stranger sprang over the gate near which the child was standing, and advanced towards her. Fancy pressed closer to his little mistress, and barked long and loudly; Hero, on the contrary, bounded a few paces forward until he stood between Jessie and the intruder, and there he resolutely remained, growling and showing his teeth in determined hostility.

How sad it is to reflect that the blessed feeling of penitence, and the consciousness of right, are so often stifled by the weeds which spring up so rankly by the wayside of life. That night Paul Giroux went to his rest a self-convicted and repentant man; on the morrow he rose with the sense of poverty and degradation rankling at his heart; his only remaining cow had a few days previously died of some fatal disease; his sheep had perished one by one on the hill-side; his crops had failed-he was a ruined man. Giroux had been high-spirited and speculative in prosperity, and he was comparatively despairing and inert in adversity: he had lost all reliance on Providence, and talked of chance,' and 'luck,' and 'fate,' as though the bright and beautiful world had sprung from chaos by some fortunate chance-had been peopled by some good luck—and had been given to man by some happy fate. It is unnecessary to expatiate to a Christian on the sinfulness of such a creed, tending, as it does, to diminish, and even to undermine the power and majesty of the Divine Creator of all things; and it is equally certain that so loose and ungoverned a system of reasoning must infallibly mark the misery of every mind by which it is indulged. Annette had, indeed, taught Giroux since his marriage to acknowledge the beauty and holiness of religion; but he had done it light-heartedly, while the world went well with him, because he saw that it gladdened his gentle wife he had never looked deeply and earnestly into the subject: he had gone gratefully into the house of prayer, and had given thanks for the blessings of his daily lot; but when misfortune fell upon him, he was not sufficiently pious to acknowledge the divine right to withhold those blessings. Why should I join the congregation?' he asked sullenly when, a few weeks after the scene we have described, Annette carnestly urged him to accompany her to church, Grom which he had absented himself for some weeks; my neighbours go there to return thanks for all that they Dossess-what do I now possess which is worth thanks?' Annette did not speak; but as the large tears rushed into her eyes, she pointed to her children. Pshaw!' muttered Giroux: and for the first time he turned away, regardless of the appeal. The heart of his wife was wrung, but her trial was not yet ended;-at his feet lay a fine black spaniel, the pet and plaything of Jessie, and the legacy of his wife's mother. Fancy was the favourite of the whole family; she was so gentle and so caressing, and withal so playful and so pretty, that she was loved almost to the You are a very nice little girl,' said the stranger smildisparagement of Hero, Paul's own eagle-eyed, bristly-ing, as he stooped and smoothed down the silken hair of haired terrier; and yet Hero was no common dog, for he the child; and you have got two very pretty dogs, alhad been the gift of a gentleman whose life had been saved though one of them seems as though he longed to declare by the young farmer when they were both lads; and the war against me.' gift had been accompanied by an assurance on the part of the young Count, that when he came to his estate he would reward the service which had been rendered to him in a more efficient manner. That event had now, however, taken place some years, and all expectation of ever again 'I should think not,' was the reply. I have seldom seeing or hearing of Hero's former master had faded from seen two hand somer dogs. Did you not call this brightthe mind of Giroux: he had, moreover, on his marriage re-eyed, clever-looking fellow, Hero? I wonder if your father moved to a distant part of the country, and Hero enjoyed would sell him!' no distinction in the family, save that which he had earned by his own good qualities, and they were many; not a rat nor a weasel could venture near the poultry-yard; not a wandering gipsy dared lay a finger on the little Jessie, when she lay sleeping, wearied with play, under the chestnut-trees; and yet Hero was the best-bred of terriers; he never scared away the beggar from the door, for he appeared to be conscious that they were always greeted kindly by his master's wife, and he even bore patiently and unresentingly the somewhat boisterous frolics of his little mistress, as if he knew that all allowance must be made for the uncalculating and uncompromising vivacity of childhood. Still Fancy was the favourite; her long ears were so silky and so shining, and her bright eyes were so gentle they had nothing of the cunning of the round eyes of Hero; and the children could make a pillow as well as

The stranger stopped suddenly, and eyed the little group with a smile of good-humoured interest; while Jessie, seizing her blue-bell, inflicted a blow on the rough coat of Hero, exclaiming, For shame, you ill-bred dog! would you bark at a gentleman?'

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Oh! sir, Hero will not bite, now I have bidden him be quiet,' said the child, anxious to impress her companion with a proper sense of the docility of her favourites; and Fancy never hurt any one in her life.'

What! sell Hero?' cried Jessie, in a voice of alarm, as she threw herself on the grass, and twined her arms round the neck of the bristly terrier; 'why, what a cruel man you must be!'

The stranger looked amused: Well, well, my little maiden, I am not going to steal Hero; perhaps you will let me have Fancy instead.'

Oh, no!' said Jessie, shaking her head with a pretty jesture of deprecating solemnity: Fancy is my mother's own dog-no, we could not sell Fancy; besides, Fancy is my favourite.'

That argument is conclusive,' said the stranger; 'and pray, my little fairy, what is your name?' Jessie Giroux, sir.'

Giroux!' repeated the gentleman, thoughtfully, and then he looked stedfastly at the terrier; what a singular

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cecurrence! Will you take me home with you, my little
girl?
'Not now,' lisped the child, in the same subdued tone
in which she had previously spoken; not now, because
we are going to church, and we shall be too late.'

'Oh no, Jessie,' said her new friend, drawing out his watch, to her great admiration; there is yet a long hour before church-time, and I shall probably not spend half that time in your cottage.'

Jessie refused no longer, and in five minutes she stood at her mother's door hand-in-hand with the stranger, and followed by her two mute playfellows.

young Count closed the door behind him; and she flung herself on the neck of her husband-will you now refuse to accompany me to church?'

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.

THE ATMOSPHERE.

THE word geography, in its literal and most extensive sense, signifies a description of the earth. The science which it is employed to designate is one which comprehends a great variety of subjects and a vast range of study and investigation. It is closely connected with many other When they entered the cottage, the father was again branches of knowledge, as astronomy, geology, meteorthere, and his wife was bending over him as he sat, withology, and history, which, properly speaking, are only her arm round his neck, and her sweet voice urging him subdivisions of this grand department of human study. in its gentlest tones to accompany her to the house of This science brings under our consideration everything prayer; but the unhappy man had not yet successfully connected with the planet which has been destined as our struggled with the darkness of his spirit. abode. Although the word geography, in its more common application, is regarded merely as descriptive of that knowledge which renders us conversant with the lines by which it has been found necessary to distinguish the artificial representations of the globe, the various features of land and water, mountains and rivers, and the respective situations of countries and cities; it no less strictly embraces the shape, motions, and extent of the globe; the phenomena of the atmosphere and ocean; the nature of soils; the animals and vegetables which they maintain; and the number, character, condition, and history of the inhabitants of the earth.

When Jessie had introduced her new acquaintance, he reneered the expression of his desire to purchase the dog; but Goux would not listen to the proposal.

You must have some peculiar reason for declining to part with the animal,' said the stranger; 'for-you will forgive me the remark-your circumstances do not appear to warrant such pertinacity: money, I should have thought-'

Would be acceptable enough, you would say, sir,' interposed Giroux, bitterly; and you are right-but that dog reminds me of one of the few meritorious actions of my life-and there has been but too much necessity of late,' he added, in a more softened tone, 'for me to remember what I once was.'

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The peculiarity of the avowal drew forth an inquiry from the stranger; and, after some reluctance, Giroux told the tale of his blighted fortunes and withered hopes; how he had taken his wife from a comfortable home, with every prospect of offering to her another little, if at all, inferior to that which she had resigned for the purpose of sharing his fortunes: how troubles had thickened around him, and poverty had come upon him, like a thief in the night,' in | spite of his best efforts to ward it off. But that is not the worst, sir,' he added, as he looked tenderly to his timid partner: the most bitter change of all has come over myself-you see my wife-not a prettier or a better girl ever became the bride of an honest man; not fairer nor fonder children than Paul and Jessie ever called an honest man father; and I was an honest man till very lately-but

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'Paul!' screamed Annette, as she rushed forward, and stood before him, what is this you say?'

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Nay, nay, my friend, it is not so bad as you fancy,' said the husband with a forced smile; this hand has never yet sinned-but my heart, my heart, wife, it is not the honest heart it used to be.'

'Well, well, my good fellow,' interposed the stranger, benignly, your troubles and temptations have been many, and we are all but too prone to sink under them; but you should have emulated the gentle and patient virtues of your wife-you should have remembered that He who gave is also free to take: enough of this, however; I owe you more than a homily, and I will pay the debt. Do you not remember me? I am Count Rosni, the original master of Hero. Surely you have not forgotten the youth whose life you saved some years ago! I have long been seeking for you, and at length you are found. You shall want no reasonable aid in surmounting your present difficulties: it will be to me a gratification as well as a duty to watch over your future fortunes; and I am sure you will rejoice to be enabled to place your wife in a sphere where her quiet and Christian virtues may have a fairer field. But, hark! the first peal of the church-bell is now ringing cheerily over the gay green fields. I will not stay longer to detain you from your duty. To-morrow morning I will again visit you; and we will see what can be done. Fare you well, Jessie, and you too, Annette-let me see none but happy faces when we next meet.'

'Paul! dear Paul!' murmured the grateful wife, as the

Our present object is rather to give a general outline of the leading parts of the subject than minutely to investigate any of its particular divisions; to present such a view of the whole as may render an ordinary mind familiar with the sublime facts which have been unfolded by the researches of science, and to note the indications of wisdom and benevolence which abound in the wonderful works of God. It seems proper, therefore, to begin with the atmosphere, that gaseous ocean which envelops our globe, and performs so many important purposes in the economy of nature. It was supposed by the ancients to constitute one of the four elements, of which, according to them, all things were composed. This opinion was rendered doubtful by the experiments of Boyle and other chemists. The discovery of oxygen gas, by Priestly, in 1774, confirmed the doubts which had formerly arisen, and paved the way for its entire overthrow. It has now been proved by a series of experiments, conducted with scientific care, that common air is composed of oxygen and nitrogen, in the proportion, by measure, of twenty parts of oxygen and eighty of nitrogen. It is also ascertained that its composition is the same at all times and in all places, on the summit of the highest mountain and in the lowest valley; in the most salubrious clime and in the most pestilential alley. It is therefore a curious question whether the atmosphere reaches to an unlimited extent, and pervades all space, or is confined within definite limits to the planet which we inhabit. It has been inferred from astronomical observations, that there is no such atmosphere round the sun or Jupiter, and hence it is concluded that it is peculiar to the earth, and confined within a certain range. There is no means of determining its exact height. The only way of reaching by observations connected with an approximate result twilight. This is caused by the refraction and reflection of the rays of light which proceed from the sun, and gene rally continue about half an hour. If the atmosphere extended indefinitely, we would not experience the alternations of night and day, as night would be distinguished from day only by a fainter light. The sun's rays would in all situations fall upon some part of the atmosphere, and be reflected in all directions, consequently some light would always reach the earth. Since this is not the case, it is inferred that the atmosphere is of limited extent; and by careful investigation, founded on the laws of refraction and reflection, scientific men have concluded that it extends only about forty-six miles.

One of the most important properties of atmospheric air is its elasticity, from which it derives several other quali

to the inclination of the sun's rays, being highest within the tropics, and gradually diminishing towards the poles. At the equator the snow-line is found at an elevation of about 16,000 feet; at forty-five degrees of latitude it descends to 9000 feet, and at eighty degrees it reaches the surface of the earth.

It thus appears that within eighty degrees on each side of the equator, is the space designed as the abode of animal and vegetable life; as beyond that, animals do not live nor plants grow-all is a dreary waste. Mountains of snow and rocks of ice, piled in terrific grandeur, awe the mind, and impress it with a sense of utter desolation. These snow-capped monuments of Omnipotence, whose foundations are in the earth, and whose summits seem lost in the expanse of the firmament, though apparently useless, perform important purposes in the operations of nature. They are the exhaustless reservoirs which supply the rolling rivers that irrigate the scorched plains of the tropics. Without these, the refreshing and fertilising waters of the Amazon and Ganges would cease to flow, and to diffuse luxuriance by the sweep of their ample bosoms. A constant current of cold air rushes from these bleak regions, bearing health and energy to the faint and sickly inhabitants of sultry climes, and producing those winds which waft our ships from shore to shore. Thus, what at first seems a region of cheerless horror, another lumber-house of nature, appears to be rendered subservient to the benevolent purposes of the Architect of the universe, in facilitating the commerce of nations, and transporting from clime to clime their respective productions.

ties. It is now ascertained that the air is extremely compressible, and that, like all other gaseous bodies, its volume is inversely as the pressure. If, for instance, a quantity of air occupy 100 measures under a pressure of 1 lb., according to this law it would occupy 50 under 2 lb., and 200 under lb. By the experiments of Oersted, performed in 1825, it was demonstrated that this law applies even in the case of very great pressure, as he exposed common air to a pressure of 110 atmospheres. It therefore appears that atmospheric air is extremely elastic. From this peculiarity in its constitution results the difference in its density. It is evident, from its compressibility, that the air near the surface of the earth must be denser than in the higher regions, as it is compressed by the superincumbent mass, and that its density must be diminished in proportion to its distance from the earth. The pressure of the atmosphere was first noticed early in the seventeenth century by Galileo, and afterwards demonstrated by his pupil Torricelli. Before his time, it had been observed that when air was sucked out of a small glass tube, the water immediately ascended and filled the tube. Of this no philosophical account could be given, and it was therefore concluded that nature abhorred a vacuum. On this presumption pumps were constructed for raising water by means of a vacuum. An attempt was made at Florence, in 1644, to raise water in a pump to a height of more than thirty-four feet, and as it proved ineffectual, the prevalent opinion then was that nature had no abhorrence of a vacuum above that height. This, however, did not satisfy Torricelli, and by a variety of experiments he made it manifest that the air has a pressure, and discarded the notion of nature's abhorring a vacuum. The pressure at the level of the sea is 15 lb. on every square inch of surface, and is capable of supporting a column of water 34 feet, and of mercury 30 inches in height. As the pressure on every inch of the earth's sur- WHATEVER opinion we may happen to entertain of the chaface is 15 lb., by multiplying the number of square inches on the surface of the earth by 15, the whole weight of the racter and career of Napoleon, it is quite impossible to atmosphere is found to be 15,000,000,000,000,000 tons. It contemplate either with indifference. His genius, his amhas been found by those who have ascended to a great ele bition, his astonishing success, the influence he was pervation, that owing to the tenuity of the air, great exhaustion mitted to exercise not merely over Europe, but over the is experienced on the slightest muscular exertion. Wood, when on the Roof of the World,' in Pamir, found that half-will continue to excite the interest of distant ages. Perworld; his downfall and captivity-these are themes which

a-dozen strokes with a hatchet so exhausted the workmen that they fell to the ground, that a run of 50 yards made the runner gasp for breath, that the voice was sensibly affected, and that conversation in a loud tone exhausted the speaker. Saussan experienced the same effects when on Mont Blanc, and his party were effected with dizziness, headachs, loss of appetite, and burning thirst. Humboldt attempted to ascend Chimborazo, and had nearly reached its summit, he desisted on finding that drops of blood issued from under his nails and eyelids.

When

The density of the air in some degree affects the temperature. The atmosphere, like all gaseous bodies, permits radiant matter, as heat, to pass through it, without being absorbed, and, consequently, is not heated by it. Hence it follows, that the air is not heated by the transmission of the sun's rays. The heat which passes through it is absorbed by the earth, and heats the air chiefly by contact. From this it is evident, that though the air at all altitudes were of equal density, the higher strata being farther removed from the surface of the earth, must be colder than those nearer its surface. In addition to this, the degree of heat is also diminished by the tenuity of the air, as the more air is rarefied, the greater is its specific heat. The meaning of this is, that a quantity of rarefied air would not be raised by any degree of heat to the same temperature as the same quantity of denser air by the same degree of heat. By the combined influence of these two causes, it follows, that the higher we ascend in any particular place, the colder it becomes; and it has been determined, that the temperature diminishes at the rate of one degree for every 352 feet. Accordingly, in all latitudes, there is a certain height when water no longer retains its liquid state, but is converted into ice, and snow into vapour. This is called the snow-line, or line of perpetual congelation. It is not, however, of a uniform height, but varies according

CAPTIVITY OF NAPOLEON."

FIRST NOTICE.

haps no man who ever lived has been more extravagantly praised, or more bitterly censured than Napoleon; he has been decried as a demon, and revered as a demigod. The treatment which he received from the British government after his memorable defeat at Waterloo, has now been keenly canvassed, and it has formed the subject of much angry disputation. Count Montholon on the one hand, and the executors of Sir Hudson Lowe on the other, have resolved that the world shall not remain ignorant of the circumstances connected with the captivity of Napoleon in St Helena. It is, of course, only reasonable and fair that both sides of the question be heard; and though we can hardly see how the Count's narrative can be otherwise than partial, we doubt not that it will be candidly judged by the public. Of the advantages which he enjoyed for the execution of his task, we may have some idea from the following extract from a letter dated from the citadel of Ham, and written on the 5th of June, 1844. He writes as follows:

'A soldier of the republic, a brigadier-general at twenty years of age, and minister plenipotentiary in Germany in the midst of the political intrigues of 1812 and the first months of 1818, I could, like others, have left memoires concerning the things which I saw accomplished, the events of which I was cognisant, and the men whom I knew; the whole is effaced from my mind in presence of a single thing-a single event—and a single man. That thing is

but

Count MONTHOLON, the Emperor's Companion in Exile, and TeaHistory of the Captivity of Napoleon at St Helena. By General tamentary Executor. London: Henry Colburn. 1846.

Waterloo-that event the fall of the empire-and that man Napoleon. In reality, what could I say to the past or the future which would convey more than these simple words? During six years, I shared the captivity of the greatest man of modern times, and relieved the agony of his martyrdom by attentions which he denominated filial. The recollections of these six years, passed in close intimacy with Napoleon, in conversing with him upon the events of his reign, or in writing, from his dictation, the commentaries of this second Caesar-the memory of forty-two nights passed in watching by his deathbed upon that political Golgotha of St Helena-and, finally, the reward granted me by his formally expressed desire that I should be the person who should close his eyes and receive his last sigh, are not only the ruling thought, but continue to be the richest consolation of my declining years. During the last years passed at Longwood, the Emperor sent for me every night at eleven o'clock, from which time I never quitted him till six in the morning, when he entered the bath. In his paternal goodness, he was accustomed to say to me every day, 'Come, my son, go and repose, and come to me again at nine o'clock. We shall have breakfast, and resume the labours of the night. At nine I returned, and remained with him till one, when he went to bed, and received the grand marshal. Between four and five he sent for me again. I had the honour of dining with him every day, and about nine o'clock I left him to return at eleven. Count Las Cases only remained thirteen months at St Helena, and nevertheless, in the recitals of these thirteen months, he has found materials enough to fill eight volumes of his memorial. Had I followed his example, I could have written a whole library; but such is not my intention. I wish to consign to these pages such details only as may be useful to history. I therefore relinquish the idea of following the regular order of my journal. Days passed in captivity too nearly resemble one another; I shall consult the records of my diary merely as memoranda, and giving free course to my recollections, I shall detail the facts as their importance has classed them in my memory. Everything which I state shall be verified by proof. In my case especially the fatalist axiom has become a truth -Destiny is written. In fact, without having sought it, my destiny brought me into contact with the Emperor in the Elysée Bourbon-conducted me, without my knowing it, to the shores of Boulogne, where honour imposed upon me the necessity of not abandoning the nephew of the Emperor in presence of the dangers by which he was surrounded. Irrevocably bound to the misfortunes of a family, I am now finishing in Ham the captivity commenced in St Helena. Erased, as one dishonoured, from the army list in 1816, and having had my good name tarnished by the Chamber of Peers in 1820, the half of my life has been spent under the weight of these two sentences of condemnation. My cotemporaries have already avenged me for the former; and I trust posterity will absolve me from the latter.' The return of Napoleon to Paris when all was lost' at Waterloo-his abdication of the throne of France in favour of his son, and the refusal of the French Chambers to comply with his conditions, are the principal incidents recorded in the first chapter of Count Montholon's work. The scene which may be said to have determined his own subsequent destiny is thus graphically given:

I arrived at the Elysée a few hours after the Emperor. The first person whom I met was the Duke of Vicenza, coming out of the cabinet; the agitation of his features gave evidence of the state of his mind, and I had need of the assurance of our former intimacy to enable me to dare to stop him.

'A word, I entreat! what is going on?'

All is lost,' answered he; you arrive to-day, as you did at Fontainebleau, only to see the Emperor resign his crown. An impenetrable mystery protects the Emperor's enemies. The leaders of the chambers desire his abdication; they will have it, and in a week Louis XVIII. will be in Paris. On the 19th, at night, a short note in pencil

was left with my porter, announcing the destruction of the army; the same notice was given to Carnot. The last telegraphic dispatch had brought news of victory. Both of us at the same moment hastened to the Duke of Otranto; he assured us, with all his cadaverous coldness, that he knew nothing-he knew all, however, I am well assured. Events succeeded each other with the rapidity of lightning; there is no longer any possible illusion-all is lost, and the Bourbons will be here in a week.'

For forty-eight hours I had not quitted the Elysée palace, night or day. The Emperor had remarked it; so much so, that he said to me, as I announced Prince Jerome, 'How is it that I see no one but you here?' And it is perhaps to this circumstance that I am indebted for his determination to take me with him to St Helena. After Prince Jerome had taken his leave, the Emperor was walking under the great trees in front of his apartment, seemingly deeply absorbed in meditation, when, stopping suddenly before the glass-door of the antechamber, he tapped gently on the window, and made a sign to me to oin him. 'Where is Sémonville? What does he say of all this?' 'I know not, sire. 'Tis now three months since he quitted Paris. He is at his estate near Coutances.' 'But your mother is at Paris; he writes to her; what does she say?'

'I have not seen her since your majesty's arrival.' Without saying anything more, he walked several times up and down the path; I was doubtful whether I ought not to retire, and slackened my pace in order to allow him to pass on. He turned back

Bertrand hesitates to accompany me; Drouet refuses; you will accompany me, will you not?'

'Yes, sire,' answered I, without reflecting. An instantaneous emotion, produced by his voice and his looks, ruled my whole being.'

The style in which the Emperor after a brief interval was compelled to quit Paris, suggests many reflections on the instability of human greatness:

'On the 25th, towards nightfall, the Emperor, after having officially asked of the provisional government two frigates to take him to America, quitted the Elysée in the carriage of Count Las Cases, and went to sleep at Malmaison. For the purpose of accomplishing this excursion, he had taken care to have the uniform of the chasseurs of his guard exchanged for a brown coat and round hat-the people would not, indeed, have allowed him to pass, had he set out in one of his own carriages, or had they recognised him in that of another. It was during this short drive that Count Las Cases asked and obtained permission to accompany the Emperor to America. Thus, on the 28th of June, 1815, did the Emperor Napoleon, disguised and almost a fugitive, quit that capital which he was doomed never again to see, and to which his remains alone returned, on the 15th December, 1840. Twenty-six years sufficed Who among us, who at that time devoted ourselves to his to prepare the apotheosis, and to make a god of the hero. proscribed exiled fortunes, could have thought that we should live to see the same men who pushed his carriage out of the Elysée, accompany his triumphal bier to the

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other companions of his journey the infectious marshes, which at that time were covered with ricks of hay, and said:-You see, general, that the population cheerfully recognise the prosperity which I have created in their country, and that wherever I pass I receive the blessings of a grateful people.' On the 3d of July, at eight o'clock in the morning, we arrived at Rochefort. The Emperor alighted at the Hotel of the Maritime Prefecture, and was received as a sovereign by Baron Banafour. It was on the same 3d of July that Paris for the second time opened its gates to the enemy. During almost the whole of the journey the Emperor had continued melancholy, although his demeanour had never ceased to be calm and majestic. A few words which occasionally escaped him, betrayed the manner in which his thoughts were occupied with the future, and showed that, at the bottom of his heart, he still cherished a hope of being again recalled by those who, on the contrary, manifested such an extraordinary haste to be relieved from his presence. During the whole of the journey not a word either of his wife or son. From time to time he took a pinch of snuff from General Beker's box, and as the box happened to be adorned with a portrait of Marie Louise, the Emperor once took it into his hand, looked at it for a moment, and returned it without uttering a syllable. The arrival of Napoleon produced a profound sensation in the town; the whole population was immediately in movement, and filled the gardens of the Prefecture with cries of Vive l'Empereur. These cries were repeated with so much frequency and earnestness during the whole day, that in the evening the Emperor thought it his duty to yield to these prolonged marks of affection, and appeared on the terrace, accompanied by the Maritime Prefect and his suite. The reasons of our sojourn at Rochefort till the evening of the 8th July, when we embarked to go on board the Saale, are a mystery which I have never been able to fathom, for I can never bring myself to believe that we remained five days at Rochefort to wait for some boxes, directed by mistake to La Rochelle, containing matters which constituted a part of the grand marshal's appointments in the island of Elba; but what is still more inexplicable is, that these same boxes never reached Longwood. On the 10th of May, 1821, they had lain five years and a half at the customhouse in St Helena, addressed to a person in the suite of the grand marshal, as is proved by a letter of that date written to me by Sir Hudson Lowe, asking whether he should cause them to be delivered according to their address, in consequence of the application which had been just made concerning them, or whether he should consider them as a part of the Emperor's personels, and send them to me. My answers could not be a matter of doubt; the contents of these boxes were not comprised in the inventory which I had received, and I had, therefore, no legal right to receive them; I am ignorant what became of them. It will be remembered that two frigates had been placed by the provisional government at the disposal of the Emperor; they were the Saale and the Medusa. The frigates were anchored under the protection of the batteries of the Isle of Aix, and under the command of Captain Philibert, whose pennant was hoisted in the Saale. The Medusa, Captain Ponét, was placed under the command of the captain of the Saale. On arriving at the Hotel of the Prefecture, a council was called by the orders of the general, but conformably to the desire of the Emperor; it was composed of superior officers, military and naval-among whom was Admiral Martin. The question to be discussed was, the safest course to be adopted to ensure the Emperor's voyage to the United States. It was, unfortunately, too late; since the 29th of June, the English cruisers off the coast had been doubled, and it was unanimously decided that it was impossible to leave the harbour without falling into the hands of the enemy.'

To facilitate his escape from Rochefort, various plans were proposed; that of Captain Ponét, of the Medusa, now for the first time made public, was probably the most daring:

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The proposition of this second Curtius was as follows: He proposed, under favour of the night, to take the lead of the Saale, to surprise the Bellerophon at anchor, to engage her in close combat, and to lash his vessel to her sides, so as to neutralise her efforts and impede her sailing. The engagement might last two hours, at the end of which the Medusa, carrying only sixty guns, and the Bellerophon seventy-four, she would necessarily be destroyed, but during this time, the Saale, taking advantage of the breeze which every evening blew from the land, might gain the sea, and a sloop of twenty-two guns, and a ship's pinnace, which comprised the remainder of the English flotilla, could not detain the Saale, which was a frigate of the first class, carrying twenty-four pounders between decks, and thirty-six pound carronades in her upper deck. Two circumstances were opposed to this heroic project; the refusal of Captain Philibert, of the Saale, and the repugnance of the Emperor to sacrifice a ship and her crew to his personal safety.'

All hope of escaping the vigilance of the English cruisers being gone, Napoleon had to decide between raising a civil war, to which course he had been urgently advised during his stay at Rochefort, and surrendering himself to one or other of the allied powers. He called a privy council, and proposed to them the question whether he should at all hazards endeavour to pass through the English ships and gain the sea, or throw himself on the protection of the British government. Count Montholon and General Gourgaud strenuously opposed the adoption of the latter alternative: their opinion and advice, however, were overruled.

On the 15th of July, at daybreak, the Emperor, dressed after his traditional fashion-that is, with his small hat, green coat of a colonel of the chasseurs of the guard, and his sword at his side-left the Isle of Aix, and entered one of the Epervier's boats, which was to convey him on board | the Bellerophon. The white flag was already flying upon the posts and in the roadstead, the Epervier brig being the only vessel which still retained the national colours. General Beker accompanied the Emperor, less with a view of discharging the commission, with which he had been intrusted by the provisional government, than with that of paying the last mark of respect and honour to his majesty. Like all who have ever been admitted to the familiar acquaintance of the Emperor, he had felt all the force of that irresistible attraction which his powerful nature exercised over those who came within its sphere. Having gone on board the Epervier, he respectfully approached the Emperor and made a deep obeisance.

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'Sire,' said he, does your Majesty wish that I should follow you to the Bellerophon, conformably to the instructions of the government?'

No, no,' quickly replied the Emperor, with that sagacity of mind which was peculiar to him; no, not at all. No one will desire you to say that you have delivered me up to the English; and, as it is in accordance with my own determination that I proceed to their squadron, I do not wish such an accusation to be left resting upon France.' General Beker wished to reply, but his voice failed, and he burst into tears.

'Embrace me, general,' said the Emperor, with that melancholy serenity of countenance which had never forsaken him for a single instant. I thank you for all the care you have taken of me; I regret that I did not earlier enjoy your intimate acquaintance; I would have attached you to my person. Adieu, general—adieu.'

Sobs deprived the general of the power of speech; a few words, however, struggled forth, and their import was understood. Adieu, Sire, may you be happier than we!' He then left the brig and returned towards the frigate. vanced towards the Bellerophon, preceded by her boats. In the mean time the brig had raised her anchor and adNapoleon descended into Captain Maitland's boat, steered by his first lieutenant, and was followed by the grandmarshal and the Duke of Rovigo. At the moment in which

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