which they are governed. They are always considered an inferior race, and a heavy penalty is imposed on them for committing any offence against a Malay; to kill a Malay, under any circumstances of aggression, would subject them to death, or even worse punishment; to strike or scuffle with a Mahomedan, though he be caught in the act of stealing their property, would likewise be a grave offence; and, so far is this carried, that should a Malay be hurt by one of the traps laid by the Dyaks for wild boars, the Dyak would gladly compound this crime by making over two-thirds of all his property to the person so injured, and he would be lucky to escape at so cheap a rate; on the other hand, a Malay killing a Dyak is rarely punished, even by the imposition of a small fine; and the only inconvenience he suffers, is being unable to visit that particular tribe from a just fear of retaliation. The direct tax paid by the Dyaks to their local rulers is trifling in amount, but they suffer afterwards from all sorts of exactions carried on by means of artifice or violence.

For example, the Dyaks are extensive cultivators of rice, and it will appear from what follows how necessary a precaution it is, to save themselves from the consequences resulting from a failure to meet the demands made on them by the Malays. The local rulers have the following rights :First, the monopoly of all the Dyak trade in bees'-wax, birds'-nests, &c., the price of these articles being fixed by the purchaser at a five-hundredth part of their value in the market; nor dare the Dyak refuse this nominal remuneration, or accept a better from another purchaser. They have likewise the right of indirect taxation, which is carried on to a very great extent, and in the following manner: an article, say a piece of iron two feet long, is sent to the head of the Dyak tribe, with orders for him to buy it at two, three, or even four pounds sterling; and he dare not refuse. Another is sent in the same way, another, and another, until the rapacity of the chief is satisfied; or, which is more frequently the case, the victim can no longer, meet the demand. All their valuable produce is thus wrested from them, rice is taken in the same way, and to finish this list of exactions, they are called upon to labour at antimony ore, or any work too heavy to suit the lazy habits of their tyrants. When the demands of the chief have been satisfied, the herd of petty Pangerans and worthless followers flock to the plunder of the Dyaks; and by threats, violence, and false accusations, extort what remains of their provisions, until the cultivator, who supplies rice for export, at the end of each year has not sufficient to feed his family, and lives on raw sago, fruit, or vegetables, and too often is reduced to famine. Thus reduced to starvation, they sometimes are unable, sometimes refuse, to meet these multiplied demands; at other times, the Malays bring some trifling accusation, and often are not at the trouble to seek any plea to justify their proceedings. The result is the same, the Dyak tribe is attacked and plundered, and their wives and children seized and sold as slaves! This practice is carried on to an extent revolting to humanity, not only here, but throughout the Borneon territory wherever the Dyaks are weak and their oppressors strong; and the unwarlike Malays do not incur risk, as they generally employ the Serebas and Sakarran Dyaks, aided by a small party with fire-arms, to make the attack. The terms of the agreement are, that the Malays get two-thirds of the property and slaves, whilst the predatory Dyaks get the other third, and all the heads. A few facts which have fallen under my own observation will speak for themselves. Of twenty Dyak tribes under this government more than half have been robbed of their wives and children in part; and one tribe is without women or children amongst them, upwards of two hundred having been led away into slavery at Sakarran and Sadong. The chief of this tribe, when he met me a short time since, described their former and their present condition with great truth and force, and concluded his appeal in the following words :-"For more than a year we have asked the Pangerans to restore our wives and children they have promised, and deceived us. If you will get our families-if you will give us our wives and children back, we will be faithful in prosperity and adversity; we will work for you, and all that we have or can get shall be yours."

I may, perhaps, be pardoned for saying that I am now in treaty for the release of these unhappy victims, and have hopes I may ultimately succeed in restoring them to their husbands. Several of the Borneo Pangerans, about six months since, invited a large party of Sakarran Dyaks to the plunder of the tribes up this river; but before their call was answered, my arrival in the Royalist disconcerted their plan in some measure. A hundred war-prows of the Sakarrans, carrying some fifty, and uone less than twenty-five men, and in all certainly a body of three thousand men, arrived, however, at Kuching, and requested permission to make the arranged attack. The Rajah Muda Hassim, who is incapable of such an act, was worked upon by fear to give over the management of the business to another, and retired into his seraglio. I was all along assured that the Sakarrans could not ascend the river, and the first intimation to the contrary was the departure of the war-prows, attended by sixty Malays, to guide them to their prey. They had, however, reckoned too much on my forbearance; for, the instant I was apprized of the circumstances, I loaded the schooner's guns, and armed her boats, and threatened not only to attack the Sakarran Dyaks, but to make the Pangerans answerable for their act. After a vain attempt to convince me that the Dyaks were too powerful to be resisted, they quietly yielded to my peremptory demand; and I had the satisfaction, on the following morning, to see the fleet return. The consequences would have been lamentable indeed, had these Pangerans been allowed to carry their iniquitous scheme into execution; and I cannot but rejoice in having been instrumental in saving the Dyaks from this aggravation of their miseries. Since that time, another native chief has sent the Sakarran Dyaks to attack a tribe called Sunpro; and after a night surprise, they captured forty women and children, killing about the same number of men, and burning their village.

Such is the sad condition of the Dyak tribes: such the sufferings of an innocent and industrious race, which are scarcely to be matched in the annals of nations, and unequalled even on the coast of Guinea; for there the lot of slavery falls only on a portion of the community, whilst here it is the wanton butchery and the wholesale slavery of entire communities. After residing amongst this people, and becoming intimately acquainted with their characters and many virtues,-after witnessing their sufferings and patience,

and very firmly convinced of the facilities with which they might be improved, after struggling for a year to protect them, and after acquiring their slowly-bestowed confidence, it cannot be a matter of surprise that I appeal in their behalf to that generosity which I am led to think aids the distressed and commiserates the sufferings of our fellowcreatures. If a case of misery ever called for help, it is here: and the act of humanity which redeems the Dyak race from their condition of unparalleled wretchedness, will open a path for Religion and Commerce which may in future repay the charity which ought to seek no remuneration.

For the details of Mr. Brooke's plan the reader is referred to the Letter,* which we recommend to his most careful attention.

SLOW-POISONING.

JAMES SMITH used to relate the following strange story:

"A young, talented, and handsome married woman, whom he would only designate as Camilla, called upon him relative to an engagement on the stage. She had every requisite. B strongly advised her against it, telling her that its various horrors would be insuperable to a gentlewoman. She had, it appeared, a brute of a husband, from whom she had separated herself. She one day called upon B―, and seeing on the mantel-piece a phial marked 'poison,' asked him if be could help her to some slow poison. She appeared learned upon that head, mentioning a slow poison known ages ago,

A Letter from Borneo, with notices of the country and its inhabitants, addressed to James Gardiner, Esq. By J. Brooke, Esq. L. and G. Seeley, Fleet-street.

as Toffonia, and alluding to Madame Brinvilliers, who had destroyed several persons by that mode. He of course said that he could not accommodate her. Being, upon reflection, prevailed upon to forego her design of going upon the stage, she was induced to return to her husband. Her last letter to B —was written at the bedside of her husband, who, she said, was suffering under a slow and consuming illness. Not long ago, an elderly lady in black called upon B—, calling herself the mother of Camilla, and earnestly requesting to know whether he was acquainted with the place of her daughter's retreat; adding that her husband had died, and that Camilla had thereupon suddenly absconded! Bassured her (with truth) that he was quite ignorant upon the subject. Is not this a strange narrative? and does it not appear very probable that Camilla had administered Toffonia, and, frightened at what she had done, had made a rapid retreat into obscurity?"

COLOGNE CATHEDRAL, AND ITS

PROPOSED COMPLETION.

(In a Letter from Mr. G. Godwin, jun. F. R.S. to the Civil Engineer and Architect's Journal.) "They dreamt not of a perishable home, Who thus could build."

THE cathedral of Cologne, if completed as proposed by the powerful mind which designed it, would probably be one of the most wonderful and beautiful monuments of the skill of man in the whole world;-its enormous size, the elegance of the details, its completeness as a whole, would alike strike the beholder as unequalled and surprising. Cologne, although as Coleridge says,

66

a town of monks and bones,

And pavements fanged with murderous stones,
And hags and rags and dirty wenches!"

in which he counted seventy stenches-may be termed the Rome of this side the Alps, containing more objects of interest to the architectural antiquary than any city in this position that I remember. Foremost amongst them all, however, is the cathedral, even unfinished as it is. No one who has seen it will easily forget the effect produced by it, or cease to desire that it should be worthily completed, knowing as nearly all do know, that by a series of lucky accidents some of the original drawings are preserved to us. The designs for the principal front, which it seems were formerly kept, one with the archives of the cathedral, and the other in the mason's lodge, were lost when the French occupied the city in 1794. In 1814, one of the drawings, namely that which represents the north tower, was accidentally discovered in a corn-loft at Darmstadt, by a decorative painter who was about to occupy the loft as a studio. Being drawn on parchment, it had been used for many years as the bottom of a sort of tray in which to dry beans; but with the exception of the marks left by the

nails which fastened it to the wooden rim, and a fracture in the lower part of it, was little injured. It fortunately came into the possession of Dr. Möller, the distinguished architect of Darmstadt, who published a fac-simile of it in 1818. At the time of the discovery of this drawing, M. Willemin was publishing his work Monuments Français inédits, and Dr. Möller was struck by the analogy which appeared between the style of a large window represented in the 12th No. of that work, and that of the details of the tower at Cologne. He mentioned the circumstance to M. Boisserée, who was then occupied on his large work on the cathedral of Cologne; inquiries were made of M. Willemin, and it was learnt that the window in question formed part of a very large drawing of a church on parchment, and then in the possession of M. Imbart, an architect at Paris, who had obtained it from M. Fourcroy. M. Fourcroy, it seems, had found it in Belgium. M. Boisserée contrived to purchase the drawing, and it was at once recognized as representing a part of the façade of Cologne cathedral It was afterwards sold to the King of * It is supposed that the plan had been carried from Cologne about the middle of the 15th century, to serve as a model for the numerous churches which were then built in the Low Countries.

Prussia, and His Majesty presented it to the city of Cologne. United with the drawing discovered at Darmstadt, it represents the whole of the principal front. The size of the drawings together is about 6 ft. 6 in. wide, and 3 ft. long.

The longevity, it may almost be said the immortality, of an idea hardly needs illustration; if it did, the design of this cathedral might in part serve the purpose. Recorded centuries ago by the mind which conceived it, the intention is but now about to be fulfilled; and what its realization at this moment may further lead to, yet remains to be seen. Another and an analogous instance is now before us. Two hundred years ago Sir Christopher Wren proposed to rebuild London with the Exchange in the centre, and the main streets radiating from this building on all sides. Circumstances were opposed to it, and the intention has laid dormant. In our day, however, one of our countrymen, called in to advise on the rebuilding of Hamburgh, has re-urged this idea, and if I am rightly informed, so successfully, that the senate is about to adopt it in the new city. The emanations of the mind, like the mind itself, may be said to endure for ever-they continue to operate through the world, and to influence the future long after their origin has been lost sight of.

To return, however, to Cologne cathedral. Thanks to the power of steam, and the situation of the city on the Rhine, this structure has been viewed by most of us, and it would be impertinent to make remarks upon that with which you are as well or better acquainted than myself. A short time de l'Architecture, of Paris, kindly forwarded to me some ago, however, M. Daly, the editor of the Revue Générale information on the late repairs and decoration of the building, and an acount of the enthusiastic efforts which are being made, not merely in Germany, but in other countries, to ensure the completion of the building. It is the substance of this information, which seems to be sufficiently interesting to be worthy of your attention, that I propose briefly to bring before you.

building was laid on the 14th of August, 1248, and that the I may remind you that the first stone of the present choir was consecrated Sept. 27, 1322, or 74 years afterwards. It was more than a hundred years after this date, before the south tower was taken up to its present altitude, hardly half than twenty feet, perhaps, above the ground. its proposed height; the north tower is even now not more

When the soldiers of the French republic had possession of the city, at the end of the eighteenth century, the cathedral Moreover, iron cramps, which had been extensively used in was used by them as a stable, and was considerably injured. the construction, caused great ravages in the stone work, and there being no funds with which to repair the evil as it became apparent, the destruction of the building seemed more than probable. After the peace, endeavours were made to restore the damage; but it was not till 1821, when the

King of Prussia interfered zealously, that the matter was

taken up in earnest.

In 1829, the complete restoration of the choir was commenced, (including the rebuilding of the flying buttresses, galleries, and windows,) which most desirable work is now achieved, and as it would seem most satisfactorily. A very hard and durable stone has been employed in the restoration; and the architect has studiously avoided the use of iron in the masonry, so far as was practicable, either dovetailing the stones together where additional solidity was required, or when this was deemed insufficient, employing clamps of bronze. The outlay since 1829 alone, has been more than £40,000, partly furnished by the Prussian governmeut. The immense scaffolding which still fills the choir of the cathedral, is about to be taken down, so as to expose to view the decorations that have been applied.

Beneath the whitewash with which the interior of the choir was disfigured in the last century, they discovered the painted decorations that originally adorned it, and in which the colours were applied with a sobriety and wisdom rarely met with in the works of the middle ages. All the principal parts of the construction, such as the columns and ribs, have been re-covered with a yellowish plaster, to remove the cold tint of the stones, the joints of the masonry being nevertheless left

visible. The smooth surfaces of the roof are painted in imitation of the pierre de tuf, of which indeed the roof is constructed. Some red bands or fillets separate the light colour of the plain parts from the deeper tone of the ribs, and serve to give the latter more relief. The leaves and ornaments of the key-stones, the capitals, indeed all the sculptured portions, are gilt with a backing of bright red. In the heads of the pointed arches above the triforium, angels are painted on a ground of sculptured ornaments, gilt. The wall of the cloister even is covered with paintings of the fourteenth century. On the interior surface they represent processions, upon a gold ground; on the exterior, figures of saints, on a blue ground, powdered with stars. The mouldings of the pointed arches which enclose the figures are also very richly painted.

Fourteen colossal statues, representing our Saviour, the Virgin Mary, and the Apostles, are placed against the pillars of the choir, and are said to be models of monumental sculpture and polychromatic decoration. The draperies are painted to imitate rich damask stuffs, adorned with embroideries, coloured and gilt, representing animals and birds, executed with skill. It was much feared, in consequence of

the thick coating of dirt with which time had covered these figures, that the renewal of the painting would have injured the effect of the sculpture; so far from this, however, the success is most complete.

This magnificent assemblage of architecture, sculpture, and painting, is made perfect by a series of stained glass windows, of the commencement of the fourteenth century, which, instead of injuring the effect of the mural paintings, by the coloured light which flows through them into the beautiful structure, harmonize the whole, and produce an effect which I can well conceive to be very striking.

The choir with its side aisles and chapels is, as already mentioned, the only part of the cathedral which is complete, the towers and nave remaining in an unfinished state-a splendid promise only, an outline of a magnificent intention, which yet remains to be filled up and made perfect. It seems possible, however, that it may not remain so much longer. Fired by the successful restoration of the ancient works, and anxious to realize the original idea in all its integrity and unity, the inhabitants of Cologne have determined on continuing the works vigorously. On the 16th of February a society was organized for that purpose, and the day was set apart for religious intercession and rejoicing. The enthusiasm displayed on this occasion is said to have been extraordinary; a procession of more than five thousand persons took part in the ceremonies of the day; Protestants and Roman Catholics, liberals and conservatives, joined on one common ground, and outvied each other in generous efforts to ensure the completion of this fine monument bequeathed by the middle ages to modern times.

This outburst of feeling on the part of the inhabitants of Cologne has been responded to, not merely throughout Germany, but in the neighbouring countries: branch societies have been formed for the purpose, literary men and artists have associated to publish magazines, the profit of which is to be devoted to the cathedral, a committee to receive subscrip. tions has been organized in Frauce, and another in Rome; the King of Prussia has made himself responsible for £8000 per annum, and has further suggested that each of his provinces should defray the cost of one of the flying buttresses. The King of Bavaria, as in most similar instances, is not behindhand in the good work, but has formed committees in all the towns of his kingdom, and, moreover, has commissioned the manufactory of stained glass at Munich to produce three fine windows for the cathedral, at the cost of £3200. In Germany all classes of society, all professions, all faiths, have spontaneously united in favour of the projected work, not merely, as M. Daly suggests, under the influence of a lively interest in the welfare of the arts and for their sublime creations, or even from a sentiment of piety, but from a new. born feeling of the re-establishment of moral unity in Germany, and a desire to retrieve its ancient grandeur. Piety, art, and patriotism-love of God, love of the beautiful, love of country -unite in favour of the completion of a building in which

modern Germany will give her hand to the Germany of the middle ages, across three centuries of discord. Architecture has been too often called in to embellish the triumphs of brute force; in this case it may record the willingness of a nation to be united. From the Bible we learn, continues M. Daly, that the first great monument with which architecture ornamented the world was the Tower of Babel, that is to say, of confusion, of discord. It is worthy of the architecture of our day to complete a noble edifice, high upraised, which may be at once a temple to God and a record of union.

To this I most fervently respond, and trust that the patriotic and elevated desires of the German people on this head may be fully carried out. The crane of the ancient builders has continued to surmount the grass-covered summit of the tower, mutely telling of their return, and prophesying ultimate completion.* I venture to express a hope that it may soon be seen again at work, playing its part in a much more elevated position than it is now.

* Being decayed, it was taken down in 1816, to prevent accidents, but was restored in 1819.

Varieties.

A Model of St. Peter's, at Rome, constructed by Signor Andrea Yambassini, has recently been brought from Paris, and has been submitted to the Queen, at Buckingham Palace, where it occupies nearly the whole of the area of the large room known as the Garter Chamber. In this surprising work, the labour of fourteen years, every arch, gallery, colonnade, picture, and statue, is re-produced the statues are of ivory, and the paintings on copper. By an ingenious piece of mechanism, portions of the model are opened, the building is bisected, and the gorgeous interior thrown open for inspection.

Chinese Trophies.-There has been brought home by the Wellesley, from China, the identical wooden cage, in which the wife of the captain of the Kite, East Indiaman, was confined and carried about by the Chinese for six weeks.

Immense Steam Vessel.-Government is about to build, at Woolwich, a steam-vessel of 1650 tons burden, suitable for engines of 800 horse power, and for a crew of 300 men. Our largest steam-vessel, at present, is of about 1060 tons burden, and 400 horse power.

The Earl of Rosse's Large Telescope.-The speculum for this leviathan instrument was safely removed, on July 30th, from the annealing oven, where it had lain nearly sixteen weeks.

Fungus. On the 28th ult., a pavement stone on the road leading through Circus place, Edinburgh, which had been laid down in the month of March, was observed to be raised upwards of an inch from its bed; and upon examination, was found to be resting upon three large fungi, two of which were upwards of 3 feet 6 inches in circumference, or about 14 inches in diameter. The stone thus raised, measures 3 feet 9 inches in length, 1 foot 8 inches in breadth, and 4 inches in thickness; and, we are informed, could not weigh less than 24 cwt.-Edinburgh Witness.

Novel Decoration.-In India, the plastered walls of rooms are stamped, when moist, and worked into patterns, over which is spread a varnish of powdered talc, which closely resembles the richness and hue of new and unused frosted silver plate. This might be introduced in London, as a very cheap and elegant drawing-room decoration.

Smithiana.-James Smith was once asked if he liked to meet painters at table. "No," was the reply; "I know nothing in their way, and they know nothing out of it."

London: Published for the Proprietors, by W. BRITTAIN, Paternoster Row. Edinburgh: JOHN MENZIES. Glasgow: D. BRYCE.

Printed by J. Rider, 14, Bartholomew Close, London.

No. 85. NEW SERIES.]

A CHILD'S LOVE:

A FACT OF THE GREAT FRENCH REVOLUTION.

THE struggle between the Montague and the Gironde had just been brought to a close, with the defeat of the latter party, over whom the revolutionary axe had been suspended for five months. Brissot, the philosopher; Verguiaud, the great orator, and the Mirabean of the Legislative Assembly; Gensonné, Duclos, and about twenty other "martyrs" to liberty;-all had perished on the scaffold. Terror hovered over the Convention, and thence spread over all France. At this memorable epoch, I had scarcely attained my twentieth year, and had taken no part whatever in these bloody contests. Nevertheless, the name I bore, and my family connexion with several illustrious refugees, were soon imputed to me as a crime. I was informed against as an aristocrate, and implicated in one of the thousand conspiracies, which were then hatched hourly. In a few days, I was arrested, tried, and sentenced to death! A few hours before that appointed for my execution, however, (by means which I will not halt to relate), I succeeded in escaping from confinement. Restored thus, miraculously, to liberty, I fell a prey to such intense anxiety as almost made me regret my escape from death. I knew not where to ask an asylum; for to implore the hospitality of a friend would have ruined him without saving myself. My miraculous flight had obtained for me a most unenviable notoriety: for I had thus become an important person, and a marked man, who must, at any price, be sacrificed to the law, as a terror to all evil-doers. Hence, my person was advertised in all the newspapers; and there was not a gendarme, nor maire de village, who was not burning for the reward offered for my capture.

As the best step towards escape and concealment, I first removed from Paris, with the intention of going to Calais; at which town my friend M. P, a rich privateer, was to provide me with the means of reaching the coast of England. Thither my mother and eldest brother had previously repaired, and they were waiting my arrival in London with the greatest anxiety; but, alas, how was I to reach them through a thousand obstacles-when travellers, at every step, were arrested in the name of "Liberty," and when people were not permitted to go from one village to another without a passport, and a certificate of "Civism?" On the very first day of my journey, I found the high road impassable; and at every hamlet, the words "thy passport," froze me with terror. I then left the road for the fields and open country; but the alarm had been given, I was pursued like game, and I had to contend for my life before the swords of the Terrorists, and beneath the horrors of hunger. At length, after a whole week's march, or rather flight, broken down with fatigue, and faint for the want of food, I took shelter beneath the wall of a lonely park, in a small village in the neighbourhood of Arras. Alike exhausted, mentally as well as bodily, for the first time I now lost all hope in Providence. I asked myself whether it would not be better to put an end to my life by surrendering myself to the Terrorists, than to attempt further escape: but, in this moment of despair, the door of the park against which I was leaning, not being bolted within, yielded to the weight of my body,

VOL. IV.

[PRICE TWOPENCE.

and I found myself in a dark avenue of horse-chestnut trees; beneath these I lay down, resolved, whatever might be the consequence, to go no further.

In a few minutes, a large mastiff came towards me, making the avenue re-echo with his formidable countertenor. He was about to rush upon me, when a little girl, not more than eight or ten years of age, threw herself upon the neck of the rampant dog, and appeased him, as if by enchantment.

The lovely child had perceived me; she, at first, hesitated whether she should speak to me, but seeing me weak, pale, and wan, and especially my fright at the mastiff, who was yet gnashing his white teeth at me,-she took courage to address me. "Do not be afraid," said she, "he will not bite you. Mouton is very harmless when no one hurts me-and you do not look like a cruel man." Still, the dog bayed at me, and his hollow and threatening growl forbad no good for me.

"Now, Mouton, be quiet, and kiss the gentleman instantly," said the feeling girl; "I will have you do it ;" for, notwithstanding my slovenly clothes, the instinct of her sex had already enabled her to perceive that I was neither a beggar, nor a common fellow. And then, with her little hand she drew imperiously the enormous head of her terrible companion towards my lips.

"Dear little angel!" said I to her, as I stroked the compliant Mouton, "have pity on me: I have not tasted food these two days." "Two days without eating!" was the reply, "oh, poor young man! Here, take all my cake, for Mamma will give me more." She immediately drew from her pocket and gave me a cake, which I soon devoured; whilst the poor child watched me with inexpressible pleasure, and Mouton vainly waited for the crumbs. After this light repast, I rose with difficulty. "Lean upon me," said she; "fear nothing, little Lucy is strong; lean, I say." She endeavoured, whilst speaking, to regulate her steps, as if to strengthen mine. I could have kissed the lovely child a thousand times; but I feared my neglected dress and appearance might cause her to turn from me with disgust. It was, however, plain that her little heart beat high with joy: she ran before me, came back to me, familiarly took me by the hand, clapped her tiny hands together, and appeared anxious to reach her mother, who, she said, was very good to the hungry. Mouton had also grown tractable: as his young mistress took me under her protection, he became friendly with me: he gravely walked between us, and, at times, looked up with jealousy at the caresses which Lucy lavished on me; though, by the time that we had passed through the winding paths of a beautiful garden in the English style, and thus reached the door of an elegant pavilion, the mastiff, Lucy, and I were the best friends in the world.

I followed in the steps of my young guide, and entered an apartment, the elegance and comfort of which indicated the taste and good fortune of its owner, and seemed to me a good omen. "Thank Heaven,” said I, inwardly; "for this day, at least, I am saved." Meanwhile, my little friend drew me towards an adjoining room, crying out, "Mamma, mamma, I just saw a gentleman who was hungry, and I gave him my cake. Come and see how kind he looks. Mouton likes him already, almost as much as he does me." In fact, Mouton, in pacing from one

I