England, but I will tell you how I derived advantage from her presence. I went to the citadel, and, as I take some interest in such sights, asked to be shown through it. I was desired to give an account of myself, and on mentioning that I was an Irishman, was further asked "Etes-vous attaché à la Reine?" I replied that I most certainly was, supposing that my loyalty was doubted on the ground of my nationality. A serjeant then came forward and conducted me through. It never occurred to me, till I had gone, that the real meaning of the above question was, "Are you one of the Queen's suite ?" so I got through on false pretences. I got through very cheap, too, for the subaltern who conducted me was so gentleman-like a fellow that I did not offer him a franc; subsequent experience has convinced me that I was wrong, and I dare say that gentlemen-in-waiting to Queen Victoria have, on this account, a character for stinginess among the garrison of Antwerp.

I must bring my long epistle to a close, but shall keep it open till I have made up my mind to what city to tell you to address your next communication. There are three routes open to me. The first I shall mention is the highroad to Switzerland, which leads by Heidelberg and Strasburg. If I do not follow this route, I intend, at least, to go as far as Heidelberg, by train, and back. The recollection I have of the scenery of the valley of the Neckar, and of the magnificent ruin overhanging it, is one of the most vivid and delightful images on which my brain has been revelling ever since I resolved on coming to Germany. I do not know anywhere more beautiful woods and meadows than those that border the Neckar. Avoca is nothing to them. And the Castle of Heidelberg-but I must refer you to Murray for a description. If I go there, I'may then decide whether to make it my route to the centre of Bavaria, ascending the river by the steamer, and staying a few days at Stutgardt, where I shall see the beautiful simplicity of the German character in the manners of the inhabitants. At the tea-gardens in that city, the usual refreshments are, I am told, beer, bread and butter, and raw turnips. My soul longs for such diet after the Frenchi

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A word, before I close, on the people I have met. I have met people too grand to speak to me, and people too vulgar for me to speak to. And of the natives I have met but very few who could speak English; what my German is you may conceive, if you have ever heard a deaf and dumb pupil beginning to speak. I have thus been limited in my observations on the German character; but I have made as good use as possible of my eyes. very large proportion of the men whom I have seen have a contemplative look, as if they knew a good deal about metaphysics; such people as, in my ignorance of German forms of politeness, I should have addressed "Herr Doctor." The Germans, like the English, have more humour than wit; and to judge by the amount of laughing on board the Rhine steam-boat yesterday, an immense number of bad jokes must have been perpetrated. The cause of all this fun was a young peasant woman who had lost her ticket; the steward insisted on her paying over again; but she was very energetic and strong-minded, and made three or four speeches to different groups of the passengers on the manifest injustice of paying twice. I believe if a woman in our country wants to take out a spiritlicense, her chance of getting it is improved if she is good-looking; this young lady had that advantage, and she carried her point. Now, if you can enlarge this information into an ethnological paper, you may make a figure, after all at the British Association. Goodbye!

WE left Joan of Arc surveying in triumph, from the walls of the rescued city, the ignominious retreat of her once haughty foes. Heaven had smiled upon her efforts; her king and country were saved from the oppression of a hated foreign yoke, and she had the proud satisfaction of feeling that to her alone was owing this happy result. But did she ascribe to herself the credit of these achievements? Did she make them her boast, and pride herself upon them, as, under similar circumstances, the generality of heroes would have done, and in which, from a due consideration of human nature, we must fully excuse them? No; on the contrary, of herself she never seemed to have a thought-to heaven she ascribed all the glory. She declared that her astonishing success was entirely owing to immediate Divine assistance; that she could not avoid the part she had taken; that for this purpose she was sent, and she had only done a part of her duty, the second and the principal part yet remained-to conduct the king to be solemnly crowned at Rheims; and, neither elated by her victory nor wearied by her toils, she appeared before the king at Blois, with earnest entreaties that he would immediately put himself under her guidance, and set out for Rheims. But the indolent Charles had not yet acquired sufficient confidence in the Maid of Orleans to submit himself implicitly to her airection in a matter of such difficulty and apparent danger; the towns on the Loire were still in possession of the English, and must be reduced before he would venture into the heart of an enemy's country. He accordingly sent a considerable force, commanded by several of his renowned generals, for this purpose. They laid siege to the town of Jargeau, where the Earl of Suffolk commanded; but, after days of labour and fighting spent in vain, Joan of Arc had to come to their assistance. Instantly the fortune of the French improved; Jargeau quickly fell, and the Earl of Suffolk was taken.

The English no longer attempted re

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sistance; the garrisons deserted the towns, and Talbot, at the head of his remaining forces, fell back towards the Seine, and, although joined by Fastolf with 2,000 men, he thought only of hastening his retreat. The French pursued, and at length came up with the English army near the village of Patay.

On the same day on which, 386 years afterwards, the great and now lamented Wellington annihilated at one blow, on the field of Waterloo, the power of the mightiest despot that France ever saw, and thus earned for himself the everlasting gratitude of Europeon that same day, the 18th of June 1429, the forces of England, led by her bravest captains, experienced the most signal and disgraceful defeat, at the hands of an equal number of Frenchmen, led by a woman! The encounter lasted not a moment: the English, with Fastolf to set the example, fled precipitately; 2,000 were killed, 3,000 taken prisoners, amongst whom were the brave Talbot and Lord Scales, while the entire loss on the French side amounted to-one man. This, strange as it may appear to English readers, is a wellauthenticated historic fact.

Such was the famous battle of Patay, a victory which served almost to obliterate from the minds of the French the disagreeable recollection of Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt.

Charles now no longer refused the solicitations of the heroic maid; at the head of his nobles and 10,000 men, he set out for Rheims, under the guardianship of Joan of Arc. Troyes, Chalons, and the different towns on the route, opened their gates to receive him. Rheims, as he approached, sent a deputation to present him with its keys, and he entered the town amid the loyal shouts of its assembled inhabitants.

The next day beheld his coronation in the ancient cathedral; the princes and prelates of his court formed a glittering circle around their monarch; Joan of Arc, having her sacred banner unfurled in her hand, stood close by the altar at his side; she saw his forehead

encircled with the crown of his ancestors; she saw his head anointed from the sacred cruise of oil which the dove brought from heaven to anoint Clovis, the royal convert, in a bygone age; she saw the holy rites concluded; she threw herself at her sovereign's feet-"Gentle king," she said, "now is fulfilled the pleasure of God, who willed that I should raise the siege of Orleans, and conduct you to receive here the anointing oil, showing you to be the king to whom belongs the kingdom."

Her mission is accomplished! She, the peasant girl of Domremy, the chosen instrument in a great work, has faithfully performed her allotted part: she has given a country to her king, and a king to her country!

And now! Will they let her go with her father and uncle, who have come to see her? Will they allow her to return again to the bright woods of " green Lorraine," the happy home of her childhood-to the flocks, the vineyard, and the cottage for which she has so often sighed, even when at the head of her victorious troops, amid the din of battle, and the enticing gaieties of a court? Will she be permitted to leave that court and camp, with which she has now no longer a common interest, where her mission is fulfilled, whose councils she no longer seeks to guide, whose glory she desires not to share? And may she become once more an humble peasant girl?

Earnestly she entreated the king to grant her request; but no-for Charles is now the anointed king, and can command the presence and services of his subjects, and of the Maid of Orleans, to whom this is owing. Yet what more may her presence and genius effect? She is much too useful to be parted with; besides, she has yet to be rewarded! And so Joan, in opposition to her most urgent entreaties, was detained at

court.

But from this period her spirit was changed. Although she continued to manifest the same prowess and courage, the same contempt of toil and danger, the same untiring efforts for the success of the French arms, yet she was no longer distinguished by the same lofty enthusiasm, and confidence in Divine support. She seemed to feel that she had finished her appointed duty, and that the selfish policy of Charles and

his generals alone continued to urge her to further efforts. She seemed to feel, too, a presentiment, a dark foreboding, of her melancholy end, when, having lost the high enthusiasm by which she had been previously sustained, she could not possibly inspire the soldiers with their former ardour, when sad defeat should take the place of victory, and the flying troops should leave her defenceless, to be captured by her implacable English foes; and then!

"Then, Conrade! I beheld a ruffian herd
Circle a flaming pile, where at the stake
A woman stood: the iron bruised her breast,
And round her limbs, ungarmented, the fire
Curled its fierce flakes. I saw her countenance,
I knew MYSELF."

Whether Joan of Arc really felt these gloomy forebodings or not, she cheerfully accompanied Charles on his victorious march from Rheims to Paris. Everywhere he went, the towns immediately submitted to his arms. Laon, Soissons, Compiegne, Beauvais, gladly opened their gates at his approach, and Chateau-Thierry capitulated at the sight of the royal army, headed by the Maid of Orleans.

On the march to Paris, an accident occurred which considerably damped the ardour of Joan, and served to confirm her in the idea that she was not now, as formerly, attended by the particular favour of Heaven. On one occasion, indignant at the misconduct of a soldier, she struck him with the flat of her sword-the same sword miraculously found in the Abbey of Fierbois, and which she used in all her battles-the sword broke in the act, and in this she thought she be held an omen of defeat.

Joan experienced her first repulse before the walls of Paris; and even this was owing, not to any resolute stand made by its defenders, but to the habitual sluggishness and inactivity of the king, who refused to head the troops to the attack, and would not approach nearer than the heights of St. Denis. Joan, however, displayed her wonted bravery. She led on and encouraged the soldiers. Her standard-bearer was killed at her side, and she herself severely wounded in the leg by an arrow; yet, though lying on the ground exhausted and in pain, she continued to urge forward the troops to the assault; and thus she remained till night put an end to the contest.

The French leaders, seeing that no

advantage could be gained, determined to retreat; and Joan was so disheartened by her want of success, that she resolved to retire from the war, convinced that she had no longer any Divine authority to guarantee her success. She stripped off her armour, suspended it on the tomb of St. Denis, and consecrated it to God. But her ill fortune preponderated; and in an evil hour she consented, at the earnest solicitations of the General, to resume it, and again to lead the armies of Charles. While he, the weak-minded and indolent king, every way unworthy the devotion of such a spirit as that of Joan of Arc, thought only of how he could retreat to Chinon, that he might there enjoy that luxurious repose for which he would have willingly sacrificed kingdom, subjects, honour, and ambition. He led back his army across the Loire, and Joan accompanied them to winterquarters in the neighbourhood of the court.

Here, at last, Charles began to show some slight appreciation of her invaluable services. At her own particular request, he granted to her native village, Domremy, complete exemption from all imposts; which privilege, strange to say, it continued to enjoy for upwards of three centuries. He also granted to herself and her family letters-patent of nobility, and, to her brothers, the privilege of bearing the fleurs-de-lis* on their

arms.

Joan, during the remainder of this winter, by the command of the king, kept up the state and equipage corresponding to the rank bestowed by her patent of nobility; but she still remained the simple-hearted girl, whose mind wandered from the glitter of a court to dwell with regret on the innocent and happy scenes of her childhood.

Spring came, and Charles still remained in effeminate indulgence with his court; while Joan of Arc, with the army, again crossed the Loire, worsted the English in several encounters, and hastened to relieve the town of Compeigne, closely invested by both English and Burgundians. Joan, with a select band, threw herself into the town, to the great joy of the despairing in habitants.

This act, so courageous and devoted, decided the destiny of the Maid of Orleans. She thus unwittingly sealed her own fate. Impatient of inactiou, on the next day after her arrival, she sallied out to attack the enemy. Twice she drove the opposing Burgundians beyond their entrenchments; but their numbers still increasing, and joined by the English, they forced back the small band of French. Joan herself covered the retreat of her men, and singly opposed the foes. The fugitives, in wild confusion, choaked up the half open gate of the town. The English, when they saw the well-known banner, pressed on with redoubled vigour to intercept her retreat.

Deserted by her friends, and surrounded by the gleaming falchions of her deadly foes, long, and with desperate valour, she defended herself against the increasing multitude. Those ironclad warriors shrank back appalled from the might of her single arm; but the fates opposed. A Burgundian soldier coming up behind, seized her by her velvet coat, dragged her from her horse, and she was instantly surrounded and made prisoner.

And now Joan of Arc-the dauntless, the heroic, the Heaven-inspired saviour of her country, before whom thousands had thrown down their arms and fled in terror, or had knelt to petition for for mercy-Joan was a captive in the hands of her exasperated foes.

Great was the joy of the English. By order of the Duke of Bedford, the "Te Deum" was impiously chanted in Paris, to celebrate the capture of this terrible enemy.

She had been conveyed to the quarters of John of Luxembourg, from whom the English purchased her for the sum of 10,000 francs, in order that they might glut their vengeance to the full on their defenceless prisoner. Still, as a prisoner of war, she was entitled, according to the usage of the times, to respectful treatment from her captors; but such suited not their blood-thirsty purpose. They, therefore, renounced any rights of war which they possessed over her as their prisoner, and delivered her over to the ecclesiastical authority. Their evil-minded agent, the Bishop of