they are used to. If these observations are made in French, they are safe to be unintelligible to the " natives; " but if the Britisher speaks English, he has a way of disguising his language in a hope of thus making himself comprehended, especially when he asks for "pell-ell." Monsieur Loigereau looks more like a full moon than ever to-day, he is so beaming. As he goes out from dinner a few significant words pass between him and the widow. "Madame," says the captain, with effusion, "I am a happy man, and you must allow me to thank you for my happiness." The widow places her slender fingers in his chubby palm, and a solemn "shake hands" is exchanged. "I congratulate you from my heart," says the widow, as he rolls away. Her eyes come back from following the captain and meet the honest blue gaze of Monsieur Rendu. He is puzzled. He has only half-heard; is the widow then the object of Monsieur Loigereau's adoration? Madame Mérand reads his thoughts as easily as print. "Is he not good, our captain ? I am so happy in his happiness! I must not tell secrets," she puts her head on one side, and steals a long soft glance from under her lashes; and yet I would like to tell you. I think you know the girl; and you, perhaps, take an interest in her, as I do." She watches his face, and she draws her breath hard at the cager intelligence that flashes in his eyes. 66 Yes, it is the shop-girl of Madame Bobineau. Poor little thing! she is so glad and grateful. He was telling me of her delight at a present he made this morning." But Rendu is looking at his watch. 66 Rendu grinds his teeth as he reaches the shop. Yes, there is the bouquet, and as he stands on the doorstep, hesitating, Mimi bends her face over the flowers and seems to kiss them. But Madame Bobineau is not upstairs today; she sees the young man's approach, and comes out into the shop to greet him. "How is the weather, monsieur ?" she asks. "I am praying for a fine Sunday. I have promised to go for a walk; and you, too, monsieur, you care that it should be fine on Sunday?" "IP" says Rendu, and then; "oh, yes, I am going to Cabourg." " we "Aha!" says Bobineau, slyly, know all about that, Monsieur, we wish you a happy day, don't we, Mimi?" Mimi looks up, with her innocent wondering eyes, at the furiously blushing Alphonse. She wonders a little at madame's unwonted notice. "Yes," she says, simply; "I am sure you will be happy." The poor child bas never seen the sea, but she is glad for him to have such a pleasure. He turns on her in bitter anger: "I wish you happiness, too, mademoiselle. You love flowers, I see." 66 Oh, yes; so much -so very much! " His look and words stir her heart strangely; she is frightened, and yet she wishes Madame Bobineau away. If she and Monsieur Rendu could be left alone just one little five minutes she would get courage, and he would be again as kind, as gentle as he used to be. He must not be angry with me," thinks the poor child; "if he is not kind I shall die." By way of hiding her great trouble she hides her face in her roses. 66 When she raises it Rendu has turned Pardon, madame, I have an appoint-away; he is speaking to some one on the ment this evening." steps. The widow does not like this haste; but Aha, my friend!" says the captain, “I "The sharper the medicine, the sooner the patient is cured,' she says: "if he once realises that Mimi belongs to some one else, his infatuation will be over." IX. MONSIEUR RENDU hurries along; he feels almost savage joy when he sees the captain's crimson legs rolling into a café. At any rate, he shall find Mimi alone. But he feels stung sore all over. He knew she was a shop-girl, but it is different to hear her called one by Madame Mérand; shopgirls are not always as guileless as he had imagined Mimi to be. This man is old enough to be her father, and she is going to sell herself to him. congratulate you. I hope you and Madame Mérand will have a fine day at Cabourg. Don't you congratulate me ? " This is said lower, and ends in a hearty laugh, in the midst of which the captain advances into the shop. It seems to Mimi as if she and the world are turning round: Madame Mérand -- that proud, beautiful woman! then all this while Monsieur Rendu has "loved her her, ah!" sighs the child, "He has been loving her while I thought-oh, what have I not thought!" The captain talks to Madame Bobineau : "That will be a fine marriage, will it not? I have for some time had my suspicions; but now it is, I believe, decided she is very handsome, and he is a worthy young of an autumn sunset. He does not see the lightning glance of the jealous woman beside him flashing from the dark eyes, fierce and stormy now; he only shrinks from the stern answer man. Do you consider Madame Mérand | the fair mist-like face out of which shine handsome, mademoiselle ?" those pure liquid eyes—it is the contrast Mimi does not know how she answers: between a spring morning and the hot glow her heart swells and nearly chokes her, she wants to run away. She could push the captain aside in her despair and rush along the street without her bonnet. The captain requests permission to shake hands with her, and she hears him ask madame, in a grave, formal voice, if he may call on her to-morrow evening. X. MIMI, Madame Mérand, and Alphonse Rendu sleep little that night. The widow is easy as to Mimi; she feels sure that the orphan will be compelled to marry the captain, but she is uneasy about her lover. "Come with me this evening into the Cours Caffarelli, and I will give you proof." XI. "BUT, madame, I took the bouquet because I love flowers, and because it was so kind of Monsieur Loigereau." "La, la, la!" shrieks Madame Bobineau; "thou art not a baby, Mimi; did anyone ever before offer thee a bouquet? but for my bounty thou mightest be sweeping the streets of St. Roque!" "Chut!" she said, "it is my love that makes me distrustful; a man does not yield himself up for love alone, and I have much to offer besides myself;" she winces, and "Ma foi, non! ห says Mimi; "I could then she smiles. "I know I am enough for have stayed with the good sisters, and have any man, but if every one looks for some-professed." And then her fresh warm youth thing besides the wife in marriage, why kindles, and she shivers at the thought of should not he? I am too guarded with him the white-washed convent and its peaceful -to-morrow-ah, to-morrow!-in that monotony. long drive we shall be all in all to each other." Saturday is a long weary day to Madame Mérand. In the evening comes Monsieur Le Petit to say he will be at the door at nine o'clock next morning. It is a gray, misty morning, and as they drive along beside the Orne, the many spired city looks phantom-like, looming between the long poplar alleys. The drive is silent, Monsieur and Madame Le Petit in front, Madame Mérand and Monsieur Rendu behind. But after a hearty good breakfast at Monsieur Le Petit's cottage, the party stroll on to the sands in a more sociable humour. Monsieur Le Petit's cider is potent, and Rendu has drunk freely of it. He is so miserable, so at variance with the whole world, that he feels the need of stimulating his spirits. As he sits by madame on the plage, he grows more and more interested in her talk; he takes more and more pleasure in looking into those dark deep eyes- soft as velvet beneath his glances; and as he gazes she becomes silent, confused, - her lashes droop, a soft warm blush rises on her cheek. Why at that dangerous moment does a vision of wondering gray eyes, with a yet softer tint rising in a fairer skin, pass between Alphonse and the widow? He cannot tell, and the involuntary question escapes him “Are you sure she will marry the Captain Loigereau ?" He does not see the widow; he sees only This talk is at madame's breakfast-table on Sunday. Yesterday she announced to Mimi that Monsieur Loigereau was her future husband, and Mimi wept and entreated, and was threatened and stormed at. She would not submit; but when Madame Bobineau represented that, as her nearest relative, the law gave her power over her, and that if she proved stubborn she would have her shut up in the Asyle (the Asyle of St. Roque is a refuge for fallen women), the poor child grew terrified at the threat. So she sits, with a shy downcast face, when Monsieur Loigereau comes; and with much disgust she lets him kiss her hand when he goes away. Poor desolate child! she has cried all through the night, and now she sits writhing beside Madame Bobineau. She balances her life while she listens is it so very happy, that she should shrink from the prospect of a nice little house and garden, with flowers flowers as plentiful as her heart can desire? "And life will be worse than ever when she is his wife," she sighs. "Yes, madame,' says Mimi desperately; "c'est bien leave me in peace, and I will marry the captain." She endures a rasping of her smooth cheeks by those fac-similes of the peachstone, and much good advice. The day drags along wearily; after vespers they find Monsieur Loigereau in the church porch. The young man paces up and down — up and down; but his tumult does not calm. presently the clouds drift, and the pure, bright moon shines down. But there is no comfort in her light; he wishes the clouds would come back; he found a refuge in the darkness. He gives one arm to madame, the other | Monsieur Rendu; but she is hidden behind to Mimi, and they march off to the Cours a mass of dark clouds. Caffarelli. The band is playing here, and people are moving up and down, chatting and laughing under the trees. Mimi's heart is heavy, or she would enjoy the merry scene: groups of laughing children jumping round their mothers, young girls and their sweethearts whispering in the shade, old people sitting on the benches, watching the lights of the town twinkling in the water twinkling first like rare glowworms, or, as Mimi thinks, like the first blush of love; then, as darkness grows and lamps multiply, the radiance shoots along the waters in rays of living fire, and the water does not quench it," sighs the poor heart-struck child, nothing can quench it till death." 66 66 Madame Le Petit seizes on her gossip, and Mimi walks up and down alone with Monsieur Loigereau. He is more intent on showing off his prize than on talking. Presently they turn, and come face to face with Madame Mérand and M. Rendu. The two eldest greet each other warmly; Mimi and Rendu are dumb. "Come," says Loigereau, "have you not a word of congratulation for me and mademoiselle?" Rendu bows, and then passes on. Monsieur Loigereau is hailed by two comrades; he turns to look at Mimi, but she is gone. "She does not like being stared at, the little dove," says the good captain; "but she should not run away." XII. Surely he hears a sob! But the Place is empty; no one could hide from the broad moon-light. Suddenly Rendu remembers the double row of limes, forming a bocage all along the Place. He darts into it, and the sobs grow more distinct. But it is so dark that at first he does not make out a figure crouched on a bench, some way down the bocage. "Monsieur!" Rendu's voice trembles with feeling; forgive us, we beg your pardon, you have been hardly used. have been a blind fool, and I "And I, monsieur," says the trembling girl's voice," am much worse, for I only said I would marry you because Madame vowed to send me to the Asyle MEANTIME, Rendu walks up and down with the widow in moody, determined silence, till she expresses a wish to go home. "Adieu! monsieur," she says when they reach the inn. "I am sadly unfortunate. I thought to give you a day's pleasure, and I have given you pain. Forgive me; I tried to make you happy." Her shining The captain stares, but he behaves like a eyes are full of tears; she holds out her un-wise man. He forgives the young couple gloved hand. heartily; bids them go home, and promises Rendu is moved. Here is a woman lay-to make peace with the Bobineau and with ing her heart at his feet, and he neglects Madame Mérand. her for the thought of one who has never The first achievement was not very diffishown him any kindness, who openly pre-cult; and the good captain did not quit fers the Captain Loigereau. Madame Bobineau until she had named a day for the marriage of the young couple; but when he told his news to Madame Mérand and saw the widow's flashing eyes and quivering nostrils, Loigereau grew indignant. "Madame, forgive me! I will try and deserve your goodness." He prints a warm kiss on the slender hand, but he is gone before the widow answers. He goes on heavy-hearted, to the Place St. Etienne. It is late, the Place is in utter solitude. He is too full of tumult and anxious thought to light a cigar. The moon is fuller still than on the first night we saw Madame, I have given up my hopes, He draws closer, and looks seriously in and the other on his sword, his small eyes the angry face. blaze, and then he smiles. "Chattering, meddling fool!" says the widow, "take that; " and she gives him a box on the ear, which sounds even out on the street. The captain puts one hand to his face "Ma foi! madame, I thank you. I am consoled; if a calm woman of thirty can so imitate a tiger-cat, what might not my little untrained shop-girl have done? I have the honour, madame, to wish you adieu!" At home their mother is making their bed, Where the flowers upgrow, In a dewy Whitsun posy. Down, down the mountain three Elf maids reel, Mists thicken, each rides on her spinning wheel; Just brushes the dew From the tops of flowers fresh blowing. They sing so sweetly; they sing to the three, "Hail, children at play! Come, put your hands in ours, and flee To a home more gay, Under the mountain olden; And the ivory row Of nine pins throw Over with bowls pure golden. "Join ye! O join ye us maidens three, Shall pluck the blossoms o' gold, and see While merrily, merrily, singing; RAPIDITY AT WHICH EXCITATION IS PROPAGATED ALONG THE MOTOR NERVES OF MAN. PROF. HELMHOLTZ has communicated to the Monatsbericht of the Berlin Academy, 1870, p. 184, the results of some new measurements which have been carried out by M. Baxt, which can claim a greater exactness than the earlier researches of Helmholtz, Schelske, Hirsch, Kohlrausch, de Jaager, and von Wittich, owing to the entire elimination of the physical activity of the experimenter. The ascertained rapidity of the excitation varies between about 30 and 90 metres per second; and the rapidity is also found to be greater in summer than in winter. This result led to a more exact observation of the influence of temperature, which is ascertained by the artificial cooling or warming of the arm. By this means the accelerating influence of a higher temperature has been clearly determined; so that the interval of time between an impulse of the voluntary power and the corresponding movement of the muscle is greater in winter than in summer. THE JEWS' PRAYER-BOOK. revising their " Prayer-book." -The Jews are At the late Jewish Synod, held at Leipsis, the following was resolved: "No bitter or harsh expression shall be contained in any of the prayers under revision or to be newly composed; the contents shall embrace all human beings of the universe, and nothing shall be said therein with regard to the chosen people which might in the least offend our brethren of another creed. On the other hand, the new prayers, or those under revision, shall lay stress upon the religious mission of Israel, the providential guidance in its history, the fundamental Mosaic principles of progressive development, a future universal knowledge of the Almighty's commands, a love of peace, justice, and humanity." THE most terrible mot yet uttered about this war is one reported by the correspondent who supplies Blackwood with a spirited original description of Forbach: "L'Empire c'est la paix; certainement ce ne pas la guerre." 838 50 THE MALMESBURY CORRESPONDENCE. From The Spectator. THE MALMESBURY CORRESPONDENCE.* 46 con say that what there is of interest seems to us chiefly to centre in or cluster round the DURING the leisure of Opposition, Lord mother of the first Earl, Mrs. Harris, —a Miss Clarke, of a Somersetshire family. Malmesbury has followed up his publication of the Political Diaries and Corres- Indeed, it is not too much to say that pondence" of his grandfather, the first from henceforth it will be impossible to Earl, by that of a second series of letters, do justice to that remarkable series of on topics social as well as political, from clever Englishwomen who figure so amongst his family papers, it having been, spicuously in the social life of the eigh he tells us, the habit of his house during teenth century without including in it the name of Mrs. James Harris. For a long three generations "to preserve and arrange a name (like almost all the letters which they received time we see her only as from their relations and acquaintances." her immortal homonym in Charles Dickens), The result is a work of much more varied more particularly through the letters to her of her brother-in-law, the Rev. W. Harris, interest than the former one, perhaps especially as respects the first volume. The a courtly parson, chaplain and secretary to three-quarters of a century over which it the Bishop of Salisbury, who keeps the extends exhibit a more extraordinary change lady well informed not only as to the proin the condition of the Western world than gress and defeat of the rebellion of 45, the probably any other seventy-five years in its debates in the House of Lords on the Conprevious history, except perhaps, so far as tinental war, the trials of the Jacobite relates to this country, the first seventy-five rebels, or, again, as to the matches and R Of the series breaches in high life, but as to the ladies' itself it is enough to say that it begins with and gentlemen's dresses at drawing-rooms, Lady Shaftesbury's picture of Handel, "de-telling her, for instance, how, on Octojected, wan, and dark, sitting by, not play- ber 30, 1745: ing on, the harpsichord," and closes in the midst of Queen Caroline's trial. of the seventeenth century. It would require a much larger space than a weekly journal can spare to do justice to the political correspondence in these volumes, much of which, both as respects matters of internal interest, such as Canning's duel and resignation, and as respects the Continental war, is of considerable value. We shall, therefore, confine ourselves here to the sial side of the work, which will be probably the most interesting to the greater number of readers. It is in the first volume that details of social interest most abound; and it affords a vivid and, on the whole, very pleasing picture of the mode of life of a well-to-do English gentleman, well connected and mixed up with public affairs, in the middle of the last century. James Harris, the scholar, the father of the first Earl, was M.P. for Christchurch, and entered office as a Lord of the Admirality in 1762, holding various other places till his death in 1780. He and his were passionate Handelians, and at their held, the family mansion in Salisbury present Earl tells us, by the Harrises under the Church since the Restoration-they used to receive the best artists, give concerts, and have private theatricals, on an apparently elaborate scale. But we must *A Series of Letters of the First Earl of Malmesbury, his Family and Friends, from 1745 to 1870. Edited, with Notes, &c., by his Grandson, the Right Hon. the Earl of Malmesbury, G.C.B. 2 vols. London: Bentley. 1870. "The Princess Amelia had on a white silk, flowered with all sorts of colours, very gay, but not fine nor elegant; Princess Caroline's was a pink, with flowers of green, yellow, and silver, which looked extremely beautiful, and was, in my poor judgment, by far the handsomest suit of any I saw; Lady Gower was the richest in Lady Cardigan. her dress. as to jewels. . . . . The Venetian excelled Ambassadress drew most people's attention by somewhat of singularity both in her air and ... Lord Kildare was unexceptiondress. ably the finest of any gentleman there," &c. It is only in 1763 that we meet with a letter of Mrs. Harris herself, addressed to her son, the future Earl, then at Oxford; and the last one from her which is inserted dates from 1780. Though fond of all her. children, James seems evidently to have been her darling, as is indicated by a pas sage like the following: "I am greatly obliged for your intended present; I am impatient to see it; whatever comes from you is a treasure to me." She keeps him informed of everything, from drawingrooms, theatres, concerts, visits, to ministerial appointments, debates, and divisions in either House, dubious political trials, Ranelagh or Winchester riots, and even to the figures of the budget. So fresh, and bright, and varied, indeed, is this series of letters, that we could suggest to Lord Malmesbury the reprinting it in a separate volLet us cull some extracts from it at random for the reader: ume. a |