themselves were placed. Overcome by these entreaties, her majesty relented, and with great reluctance agreed to a conference. Molé and his companions held a meeting in one of the rooms of the palace, at which the Duke d'Orleans and Mazarin assisted. The result was, that the minister promised to set Broussel at liberty; while the parliament, for their part, engaged to deliberate on nothing but the rentes and on the execution of the tariff. The magistrates then left the palace, announcing to the people that Broussel and Blancmesnil were liberated. This, indeed, allayed their fury; but the streets continued full all night, as Broussel, their idol, was not expected before eight o'clock on the following morning. By some involuntary delay, he did not arrive before ten. The mob had begun already to evince symptoms of turbulent impatience; and when, at length, he appeared, they bore him in triumph through the city. The title of Father of the People was solemnly decreed to him, and a Te Deum was sung at Notre Dame in thanksgiving for his return. Thus their demands were satisfied, but the designs of those who had excited them to commotion were by no means so. On the evening of Broussel's apotheosis, a cart-load of powder was stopped by the people in the fauxbourg St. Antoine. This they were made to believe was destined for an army which was to march on Paris under the command of Queen Christine of Sweden. This absurd report spread rapidly, and the Palais Royal was menaced more seriously than on the preceding day. Nothing but the firmness of the queen disarmed the popular fury refusing to double the guards, she sent the keys of the city to the provost of the merchants. This conduct produced the result most dreaded by the disaffected. On the following day (the 29th) things resumed their ordinary course. Mazarin, aware that the coadjutor was the great mover of all this disturbance, endeavoured to gain him by promising him an equal share in the administration. Gondy was, however, too well acquainted with the minister's character, and also with his own, to indulge the ridiculous hope that they could ever rule together. He therefore resolved cautiously, but unceasingly, to pursue his intrigues, of which the success had been interrupted by this unexpected moderation on the part of the queen. His selected instrument, the Duke de Beaufort, had arrived in Paris, and he had sanguine hopes of still higher support in the person of the Prince of Condé. He kept up his relations with Spain through the medium of Mad. de Chevreuse: while at home the parliament, excited by him, continued its sittings, in which political subjects were freely discussed, in direct violation of their agreement with the court. This breach of faith on the part of the parliament determined the queen to remove her son from Paris. On the 13th of September, she sent him out of the city under the care of Mazarin, saying that he required the country air of Ruel. She herself remained behind to cover his retreat. With apparent confidence she took farewell of her younger son, who was then suffering from the small-pox. She next paid some visits of devotion; and afterwards proceeded to the Hôtel de Ville, where she commanded the provost of the trades to watch over the public safety and tranquillity. Her courage secured to her an unsuspected retreat. Mazarin's first step, when beyond the immediate reach of mutiny, was to banish Chateauneuf to Berry, and to confine his old patron Chavigny in the chateau of Vincennes, of which the exminister was governor. He was particularly obnoxious to Mazarin, from his great intimacy with the Prince de Condé; and, in conjunction with Chateauneuf, had long been engaged in continual intrigues against the government. These proceedings on the part of the minister spread universal dismay; Gondy, and several of the most intractable among the magistrates, expecting the same fate. The President Viole, a friend of Chavigny, complained loudly of this attack on the liberty of the subject, in violation of the decree registered in July. He declared that Paris was to be besieged; and demanded a debate on the decree of 1617, which, with reference to the Marshal d'Ancre, had prohibited the admission of foreigners into the ministry. He concluded by moving that the queen should be supplicated to bring the king back to the capital, and to restore Chateauneuf and Chavigny to liberty. These resolutions were carried by a large majority on the 22d of September. Viole was right with regard to the queen's intention of subduing Paris by force. For this purpose she required the assistance of the Prince de Condé, who, however, shewed no very decided intention on the subject. He had returned from the army in Flanders, and had visited the queen at Ruel. Though he hated Mazarin, and had much to hope from his removal, still, as prince of the blood, he was anxious to protect the royal authority from attacks like those now made on it. He had a conference with Gondy, at which he expressed a resolution to support the minister, but feebly-or, as he expressed it, that he would rather see him "slide than fall." Molé, as chief president, was under the necessity of repairing to Ruel with the decree passed on the 22d of September. The queen, though embarrassed and chagrined at the vacillation of the Prince de Condé, replied with her usual firmness. As regarded her leaving Paris, she said it was somewhat strange that the king should not be entitled to enjoy a country life as well as his subjects. The arrests of Chateauneuf and Chavigny were, she assured the president, required by strong and sufficient reasons, of which she would render an account to the king on his attaining his majority. Notwithstanding this shew of indifference, she took the precaution of withdrawing her second son from Paris, and of removing the court from Ruel to St. Germain,-a place better calculated for repelling an attack. The mutinous sittings of the parliament still continuing, the Prince de Condé demanded that a conference should be held with that body. To this the queen reluctantly consented; and it was held, accordingly, from the 25th of September to the 4th of October. At its close, the prince and the Duke d'Orleans were both convinced that Mazarin was for them a far preferable minister to Gondy, whose talents, energy, and boundless ambition, were sufficient to justify the gravest apprehensions. They therefore advised the queen to grant the demands of the parliament as to the liberation of Chateauneuf and Chavigny, the return of the court to Paris, and the law of arrest, providing the trial or liberation of prisoners within twenty-four hours. After some animated debates, the parliament passed a decree to the above effect, but stipulating a further reduction of taxes. Matters being thus arranged, they adjourned on the 25th of October; and on the 31st the king re-entered Paris amidst the acclamations of the people. [To be continued.] NATURE'S GIFTS. I CAN find comfort in the words and looks Or in the songs which dwell among the trees, I can find treasure in the leafy showers Which in the merry autumn-time will fall; And I can find strong love in buds and flowers, And beauty in the moonlight's silent hours. There's nothing Nature gives can fail to please, For there's a common joy pervading all. ZETA. THE PHILOSOPHY OF BURKING. BY A MODERN PYTHAGOREAN. "How pleasant is divine philosophy! IN perusing the annals of the world, ries chains and long protracted imprisonment. Such seems to be the fate destined for those great and comprehensive intellects, which from time to time appear like beacon-lights upon the world. They are persecuted with unceasing rancour, till life, instead of being a blessing, becomes a curse; and death, "which meaner spirits fear," is hailed with welcome, as the only retreat from their innumerable woes. There is one solace, however, which lightens up the cloud of their existence even in its darkest moments; and that is the hope of immortality on earth, and the full consciousness that, sooner or later, when all party feeling ceases, full justice will be done to their merits. Such are the remarks suggested to our minds by the hard destiny of the late Mr. Hare and his associatescharacters in whom the rarest benevolence was blended with a fate singularly unhappy; and who, as much perhaps as any individuals that ever lived, may be considered victims to their ardent love of science. Mr. Hare, the leader of this intrepid band, was a native of Newry, in the sister kingdom, and was born about the year 1792. Like many other eminent men, he had neither to boast of high lineage nor wealth. His father, we believe, was a cottar, and he himself was brought up to the same humble occupation. He alternately worked in the potato-garden and herded the cow; and when he had any leisure time on hand, he employed it in hedging and ditching. In these occupations he was engaged till his twenty-fourth year, when accident, or his own wishes, brought him to Edinburgh. Here he wrought for some time in the capacity of a labourer, and was latterly employed as a boatman on the Union Canal, where he was much remarked for the philosophical gravity of his demeanour. While in these lowly, though not dishonourable situations, it is a subject of curiosity for the contemplative mind to inquire in what manner his studious intellect was employed, what subjects engaged his attention, and what were his hopes of future eminence. It is impossible to conceive that so ardent a spirit could rest satisfied with the life in which fate seemed to have permanently placed it. Not that he could despise such a mode of existence; for those means by which millions of the most virtuous portion of the species subsist, cannot be looked upon as worthy of contempt, especially to a mind imbued as his was with such extensive benevolence. But still he must have felt that this life was not for him; that fate doomed him to higher pursuits; and that it was a duty, not less due to his country than to himself, to rise above his present sphere, and reach that eminence on which he was evidently destined to play his part. By what particular process of ratiocination he came to ascertain the particular department of science best suited for this display of his talents, it is now impossible to ascertain; nor is it of much consequence, farther than as a matter of curiosity. It is sufficient to know, that nature of her own accord, and by means too subtle for human investigation, gives to every man an intuitive perception of his own powers. So, doubtless, it was with Mr. Hare, who felt that he was destined to a path hitherto untrodden; and that it became him to tread it with a firmness which should reflect credit both upon his own sagacity and courage, and upon science in general. It was unquestionably the same feeling which gave energy to Vasco de Gama when he doubled the Cape of Good Hope; to Columbus, when he discovered the New World; and to Sir Isaac Newton, when he detected the principle of gravitation and the laws of light. So it was with Mr. Hare. It is to be remarked, however, though with no intention of disparaging the claims of this distinguished person, that the ruling passion of his mind was called into activity by a train of particular circumstances; and that had those circumstances not existed, the passion in question might have lain dormant, and died with its owner. But Mr. Hare in this respect is not singular. It was the oppression of their country which called forth the valour and military genius of Gustavus Vasa and Robert the Bruce. Deprived of this impulse, the heroic energies of these great men might have slumbered, and Vasa and Bruce descended to the tomb without any particular renown being attached to their names. Yet who, on this account, hesitates to rank them among the greatest of heroes, and the most illustrious benefactors of their respective countries? In like manner Mr. Hare's transcendent merits will not suffer because circumstances were needed to bring them out. The fire was in the flint, and nothing but collision was wanted to elicit it. We must now detail the causes which brought his singular energies into play. They were as follow. It chanced at the time of his arrival in Edinburgh, that anatomical science was in danger of being utterly extinguished, from the want of subjects for dissection. Various circumstances had contributed to produce this; the principal of which was, the preposterous and bigotted aversion which the people had to the art of dissection: in consequence whereof, the graves of the dead were guarded by armed men, so that those industrious and indefatigable purveyors of science-the resurrectionists - -were prevented from obtaining the customary supply for the anatomical theatres. These restrictions threatened not merely to prove fatal to the interests of the lecturers, and ultimately to those of medicine, but might have been attended with the worst results to Edinburgh itself; this city deriving not only much of its renown from its medical schools, but also no small portion of wealth from the multitudes of medical students who flock thither from all parts of the globe. The celebrity and opulence so acquired were thus in danger of being cut off, from the bigotry of the inhabitants, and the rigid steps taken to keep an efficient watch upon the various churchyards. Nor did this strict surveillance confine itself to the city, but extended to the country round about. There was not a cemetery but was thoroughly guarded, and such of the resurrectionists as were most distinguished for courage and devotion to science, shrunk at the task of pursuing their avocation, so great was the danger with which it was surrounded. Mr. Hare had long turned over these things in his mind. He saw that anatomy, and, by an inevitable consequence, the sciences dependent upon it such as surgery, medicine, and midwifery—would immediately sink into a state of barbarism, such as ex isted in the days of Rhazes and Avicenna; and that there would be a vast loss of life, and a great and unnecessary degree of human suffering from operations bunglingly performed, and diseases unskilfully treated. He saw, moreover, that Edinburgh, of which he had now become, in a great measure, a denizen, and of whose fame, as the Modern Athens, he was peculiarly solicitous, would sink in the scale of cities, and fall to a par with Glasgow, Liverpool, and other places equally Beœtian and illiterate. He saw, likewise, that the same causes of anatomical decay which existed in Edinburgh, could not fail, in the course of time, to extend themselves to Dublin, the capital of his own country; and that science there would, sooner or later, meet with a downfal. In looking particularly to Ireland, he perhaps shewed a nationality of feeling not quite consistent with the impartial views of philosophy, which teach that a man ought to be a citizen of the world at large, and, in his acts of benevolence, to own no country more than another. But, at all events, his predilection was an amiable one-one founded upon feelings of patriotism, such as we cannot help admiring, though not perhaps quite consistent with the most rigid doctrines of philosophy. If Mr. Hare had Dublin in his eye, be it remembered that he had Edinburgh also; and not only Edinburgh, but the whole of the kingdom -on such a comprehensive basis was the proud temple of his philanthropy erected. Seeing, then, how completely the researches of the resurrectionists were baffled by the but too successful precautions of ignorance, he meditated deeply upon some scheme to remedy this vast evil, and place anatomy in its former high and palmy state, such as it flourished in the times of the first and second Monroof John and Benjamin Bell-of Cullen-and the two Gregories. Many plans suggested themselves for this purpose to his fertile imagination. Prussic acid, at this period, was in great repute. It was demonstrated by Gay-Lussac, Berzelius, and Thénard, that a single drop of this agent, in its most concentrated state, would produce instant death, if dropped upon the tongue of almost any animal. He at first had some thoughts of having recourse to this, for the purpose of obtaining subjects; but, unfortunately, he had never made chemistry a study, and it was impossible to procure the drug from others in such a concentrated state, without exciting suspicion. To give the diluted acid, as procured in the shops, a large dose would be necessary; and this would be betrayed by the smell and the state of the person's stomach, while detection, as a natural consequence, must follow. He then thought of hocusing, by means of laudanum administered in strong ale; but this, besides being subject to the same objections as prussic acid, was attended with the risk of proving ineffectual— an objection which, to the mind of an ardent votary of science, is, of all others, the most insurmountable. Genius cannot brook the chance of failure; nothing short of certainty can satisfy its lofty aspirations; and wherever there is a chance of non-success, it instantly abandons the dubious scheme, and rushes with impetuosity into the arms of one which promises greater certainty. In contemplating the objections which the above plans suggested to him, on the score of personal danger, we have another opportunity of admiring his entire devotion to the great cause in which he was engaged. Had he possessed a less reflective or philosophical temperament, he would have rashly encountered all risks for the purpose of serving the present moment; but he took a more comprehensive, and, as the result proved, a wiser plan; for he had the sagacity to perceive, that if the ends of science were to be served, his own safety must be looked to. His devotion to science made him attend carefully to this point. " At all hazards," said he, “I must shelter myself from the chance of falling a prey to ignorance and bigotry. If I do not, what avail my efforts in the cause of anatomy?" With this just and salutary principle to guide him, he resolved to proceed in his well-digested plans; and when we consider how his keen thirst for the advancement of medical knowledge led him to take such precautionary measures in favour of himself, we must still more deeply esteem the sagacity, foresight, and heroism, with which all his acts were characterised. Quintus Curtius leaped into the gulf to save his country; Wallace laid his head |