do

Maitre Fischer has the rare merit of brevity and terseness. "When your wife is ill," said Maître Fischer to Père Thomas, "whom you send for?" "For a doctor," answers Père Thomas. "Not for a quack," rejoins Maître Fischer as a corollary; and so, he goes on to argue, it is of the State, which at the present moment is entirely given up to a mob of Parisian quacks and political empirics.

M. Alfred Nettement asserts that one of the greatest faults of the French is political indifference. We should be inclined to say precisely the reverse; and that the French suffer more than any other country from their preferring to look after the affairs of the nation instead of their own, and their anxiety

that France should stand at the head of all

other nations.

Jean Bonhomme is the well-known French epithet for the honest, industrious peasant. M. Schmit imagines Jean Bonhomme to be putting forward his claims to representation in the Chamber of Deputies. What are those claims? Order, union, and conciliation, he asserts, as opposed to those fine, nonsensical phrases so liberally dealt out at the last elections, "liberty, equality, and fraternity." The country is as sick of them now, as it is disgusted with everything republican.

Where then, lastly, is the Salut du Pays, according to the friend of France, who stands last on our list? "It is evident," says L'Ami de la France, to all men of common sense, that the safety of the country lies in the restoration of legitimacy. No one is totally ignorant of the past. To write its history is to write that of France. The names of St. Louis, of Henry IV., of Louis XIV., are graven in the memory of all. You all know the victories of Bouvines, of Rocroy, and of Denain, which three times saved the country from the yoke of the stranger. You all know that France, under a legitimate monarchy, so far from retrograding, always took its place in the first rank of civilized nations, in arms, in sciences, and arts. The Legitimist party is the only one which can conciliate all others, the only one that can save France.

CHATEAUBRIAND says in his Memoirs "Pitt was tall and thin, with a gloomy, sneering expression. His language was cool, his intonations monotonous, his gestures passionless; yet the lucidness and fluency of his ideas, and his logical reasoning, illumined by sudden flashes of eloquence, made his abilities something extraordinary. I saw Pitt pretty often, as he walked across St. James' Park, from his house, on his way to the king. George III. on his side, had perhaps just arrived from Windsor, after drinking beer from pewter pots with the farmers of the neighborhood; he crossed the ugly courtyard of his ugly palace in a dark carriage, followed by a few horse-guards. This was the master of the kings of Europe, as five or six merchants are masters of India.

"Pitt, in a black coat and brass-hilted sword, with his hat under his arm, went up

| stairs, two or three steps at a time; on his way he only saw a few idle emigres, and glancing disdainfully at us, passed on with a pale face and head thrown back. This great financier maintained no order in his own house; he had no regular hours for his meals or his sleep. Plunged in debt, he had paid nothing, and could not make up his mind to add up a bill. A valet managed his household affairs. Ill-dressed, without pleasure, without passion, eager for power alone, he despised honors, and would be nothing but William Pitt. Lord Liverpool took me to dine at his country-house in the month of June, 1822; and on his way thither, pointed out to me the small house where died in poverty the son of Lord Chatham, the statesman who brought all Europe into his pay, and distributed with his own hands all the millions of the earth."

In the year 1783 there occurred in Sicily and the south of Italy one of the most fearful earthquakes on record. In this terrible convulsion perished upwards of forty thousand people. Mountains are said to have changed places; new rivers burst forth, whilst old ones disappeared; entire plantations were removed from the spot they occupied to one far distant; and the face of the country was so altered, that a native returning to it after a month's absence would not have had the most remote idea where to seek the home he had so lately left.

It is one of the most frightful facts connected with the history of mankind, that occasions of this description are always more or less seized on for the commission of crime; and the robber and the murderer, reckoning on the impunity afforded by the universal terror and confusion, not content with the horrors of the time, add to them those of their own dark deeds. Many such instances of atrocity occurred at the period we allude to; and we are about to relate one of them, not for its own sake, since it is to be feared the incident was of too common a nature to merit particular notice, but for the sake of the influence it had on the fate of two innocent and estimable persons.

In the neighborhood of Reggio lived the Marquis Agostino Colonna, a widower, who counted a long line of ancestors, and had only two sons to inherit his wealth and his titles, the former of which was reputed to be very considerable; not that his manner of living countenanced this notion, but he had the reputation of being a miser, and was supposed to be hoarding immense sums for those much-beloved sons, the junior of whom was, at the period of the earthquake, residing in Paris with his young wife and child, as envoy from the Neapolitan to the French court; and this immense treasure was believed to be deposited in a secret chamber situated somewhere in or near the castle, but where no one knew except the marquis himself. In the disturbed times of our ancesters, such chambers were attached to many a baronial

tower, either for the purpose of concealing treasure, or to serve as a hiding-place in case of danger, and as the value of the resource depended on the inviolability of the secret, the head of the family was alone permitted to possess it, with the liberty, however, of communicating it, whenever he thought fit, to his immediate successor.

In accordance with this custom, the eldest of the two sons, Count Agostino, was duly made acquainted with the family mystery; but in 1782 the young man being accidentally killed whilst hunting, Count Neocles became the heir. He being absent in France at the time, the old marquis, not choosing to commit so important a secret to the insecure post of those days, preferred writing certain directions by which the chamber might be discovered, depositing the sealed paper, with others of importance, in a casket, which, in case of his death, was to be opened only by his son. The marquis had a servant called Baldoni, who had been the foster-brother of the eldest son. To this man, in whom he placed entire confidence, he pointed out the casket, enjoining him, in the event of his the marquis' dying before the return of Neocles, to deliver it into his son's hands himself. Baldoni promised; but it appears that the idea of what the casket might contain had haunted his mind; and not the less that some inadvertent words dropped by the marquis led him to suspect that the key to the great family secret would therein be found. Nevertheless Baldoni might have continued honest had not a fatal temptation to be otherwise fallen in his way.

On the 5th of February, 1783, an oppressive sirocco wind had thrown the inhabitants of the castle of Colonna into that state of languor so well known as one of its effects, when the marquis, who was confined to his apartment by the gout, summoned a young girl called Pepita, who had been a protégé of his late wife's, to come and sing to him. This girl had so exquisite a voice, that the manager of a small opera company at Reggio

had made her liberal offers to induce her to join them; but the marquis, by promising to provide for her at his death, persuaded her to remain where she was. She was gentle, cheerful, neat-handed, and pretty; and these qualities, together with the charm of her singing, rendered her very valuable to the old man in his declining years and sickness; insomuch, that whenever he was ill-and he was subject to long and frequent fits of gout-she was appointed his special attendant; and in order that she might be always within call, he appropriated a small room adjoining his own to her particular use. On this fatal 5th of February, however, Pepita being as languid and incapable of exertion as her betters, had retired to this little apartment, locked the door, and thrown herself on her bed, where she lay silent and still, even when she heard Baldoni knock and say the marquis wanted her. He had scarcely quitted her door, concluding her to be elsewhere, when a strange sound arose in the air, and the castle began to rock to and fro like a ship on a stormy sea. At the same time a large beam that supported the ceiling fell, penetrating the partition wall, and bringing great part of the ceiling with it. A cry from the adjoining room alarming her for her master's safety, made Pepita rush towards the door; but it was so blocked up by the fallen beam that she could not reach it; whereupon she sprung to the hole in the wall, and leaping on a table, looked through. The marquis was stretched insensible upon the ground, evidently struck down by a heavy piece of cornice that lay beside him; and Baldoni, who had just entered the room, was standing beside him. Pepita was on the point of raising her voice to ask his assistance, when she saw him rush to a corner of the room, open a press, take out a small casket, and hastily quit the room; the whole transaction being so rapid, that the girl had scarcely time to comprehend what she beheld till it was all over. Nor, indeed, had she much leisure to think of it, for the shocks succeeded each other with such rapidity, and the noise and darkness were so terrific, that she expected every moment to be her last; but, unfortunately for her, she was reserved for a worse fate. By sheltering herself under the beam, she escaped being crushed by the falling masses around her; and although the castle was destroyed by the earthquake, poor Pepita was dug out of the ruins alive, after lying under them for three days without food. A severe illness was the first consequence of this calamity;

and the second was, that her hopes of a provision from the marquis were annihilated, he being found apparently crushed to death, and no will discovered. As Pepita had no friends, she was carried to a public hospital, temporarily arranged for the reception of the sufferers; and here, as soon as she was well enough to be permitted to see anybody, she was surprised by a visit from Baldoni. She had, during her confinement, had plenty of time to reflect on what she had witnessed; and an Italian herself, she was well aware of the danger she would incur, should the party principally concerned suspect her acquaintance with his fatal secret, until she had some one to protect her from his vengeance. She therefore resolved to preserve an unbroken silence on the subject till the return of the heir, Count Neocles; but, not doubting that the casket contained some valuables belonging to the family, she determined, on his arrival, to disclose what she had seen, and in the mean time to avoid, if possible, a meeting with Baldoni, apprehending that her countenance might involuntarily betray her. Nothing, therefore, could be less welcome than his visit, the more so as it was quite unexpected, and she had no time to compose her spirits, or prepare her countenance for the interview. He spoke to her with considerable kindness-too much, indeed; for jealousy of her interest with the marquis had hitherto made him rather her enemy than her friend, and the altered tone alarmed much more than it encouraged her. He offered to supply her with anything she required; bade her entertain no anxiety with regard to her future subsistence; assuring her that although the marquis had left no will, he would communicate to Count Neocles his father's intentions in her favor, and her claims on the family; and finally left her, promising shortly to repeat his visit. And what rendered this sudden accession of good will the more suspicious was, that during the whole of the conversation his countenance belied his words; no benignity was there, no sympathy, no pity. It was evident to her that he was racked with anxiety, and that, while he was speaking to her, his eyes sought to penetrate her soul; whilst she, terrified and conscious, could not summon courage to meet his glance.

Baldoni, on his part, left her, convinced. that his worst fears were realized-Pepita knew his secret. He had expected no less. He had been foremost in the search for her and the marquis, when it was discovered that they were both buried beneath the

ruins the one he knew to be dead, and he felt perfectly indifferent as to the other, till they reached the spot and found her alive. Till then, he had not believed her to be in that room; nor, in his haste and eagerness to fly, had he observed the rent in the wall made by the fallen beam. Struck with dismay when it was ascertained that she was there and alive, Baldoni had immediately retreated, lest the sight of him should have provoked her to an abrupt disclosure of what she had witnessed. It possibly might have done so; as it was, all she did was to point to the adjoining room, exclaiming, "My master!-my master!" And then, overcome by her sufferings, bodily and mental, she fainted, and in that state was carried to the hospital.

The unwelcome visitor soon returned; and she was more alarmed than before when she found that his professions of kindness were beginning to assume a more special form; and that, whilst his stubborn features expressed hatred, he wished to convey the idea that he was in love with her. This was worse than all; and anxious to elude the persecution that she feared awaited her, Pepita quitted the hospital, and sought a refuge with a sister of her mother's, who had a son called Antonio, a fine young man, who earned his bread as a vine-dresser. Antonio had long entertained a tendresse for his pretty cousin; but her situation at the castle, and the favor in which she stood with the marquis, had so far lifted her out of his level, that when she visited the cottage she was received rather as a superior than a relation. Besides, it was well known that Pepita was to be provided for; Pepita, in short, in the estimation of the poor vinedresser, was an heiress, and far above his aim. Now she was as poor as himself; and that event, which to her was the most severe misfortune, first awakened his heart to hope. Although Antonio had never told his love, Pepita was quite as well aware of it as if he had, and had been, even in her most prosperous days, extremely well disposed to return it. She was now doubly so; there was love on one side to propel her, and fears on the other. Once the wife of Antonio, she reckoned on being free from the persecutions of Baldoni, and she would have some one to protect her from his vengeance till the return of the new master. Young, innocent, and simple, and residing under the same roof, it was not long before the priest was spoken to, and the wedding-day fixed. How they were to subsist gave them little

concern. In that mild climate, human necessities are with less difficulty supplied than in colder countries, where more substantial shelter and food, together with fuel and warm clothing, are required. Besides, Pepita was well aware that she could gain money by her voice if she needed it.

Whilst these arrangements were making, she scrupulously avoided Baldoni, and she trusted that he knew nothing of her movements; at all events, he seemed to have intermitted his pursuit, and she almost ventured to hope that her alarm had been groundless. But she was mistaken; Baldoni had intermitted his pursuit, which had been prompted by policy, and not by love, because he had read in her countenance that it was worse than hopeless. He apprehended his perseverance might only have served to provoke her to some decisive measures against him, and therefore he forbore; but he had his eye upon her, was informed of all her movements, and cunningly penetrated the motive of her temporary silence. It is needless to say he hated her, and her husband no less, for he never doubted that she had made him acquainted with the fatal secret; and as there is nothing so cruel as fear, he would probably have hesitated little to take their lives could he have done it without danger to himself; but that being impossible, he hit upon a scheme for securing his own safety a thousand times more barbarous.

When the period appointed for the return of the marquis approached, Baldoni one day presented himself at the cottage of the newly married pair, with a letter in his hand, dated from Rome, and signed Neocles Colonna. The epistle was addressed to Baldoni, and in it he was desired immediately to dispatch Pepita to Rome, where he had procured an engagement for her to sing at one of the theatres on very advantageous terms. The writer then gave directions as to how she was to travel, adding, that if she had any relation who could accompany her, so much the better, as she might need a protector. "Your husband will accompany you of course," said Baldoni.

That the letter was a forgery seems never to have entered the mind of the girl; and to dispute the will of the master would have been out of the question; whilst to have so convenient an opportunity of communicating with the count at a distance from Baldoni was very agreeable to her. As for her husband, no misgivings assailed him, for he was not aware of any reason for entertaining any ; she having prudently resolved not to make