thy, the deepest emotions and promises of fraternity, hailed my words. Those men of the barricades swore, with tears in their eyes, to contribute towards the police of conciliation I was endeavoring to establish, and they encouraged me in the fulfilment of the duties imposed upon me by my sense of duty and the public exigencies. A few days afterwards I was

invited to attend with a detachment of Montagnards the planting of a tree of liberty in the court yard of the Opera House. The orchestra and choruses of this theatre were assembled, and performed various patriotic airs during the ceremony. The clergy had been invited to bestow their blessing upon the tree. A numerous and brilliant company, grouped in the windows of the surrounding houses, formed a rich frame to the scene in the court-yard. A portion of the enclosure was occupied by a detachment of National Guards and my Montagnards, who had made themselves a little less warlike in appearance than usual. Ledru Rollin, at that time Minister of the Interior, made a speech in praise of the arts, and on the necessity of their coöperating in the work of the Republic, a speech which was loudly applauded, and followed by the chorus of the Girondins. Desirous of addressing the assembly likewise, I did so, and commenced as follows: Après la Gironde, la Montagne;' After the Gironde, the Mountain.''

6

It is but bare justice to the citizen prefect to add that the non-arrival of the Mountain was no fault of his. He did his best. It was himself, he tells us, who arranged the demonstration of a hundred thousand men on the 17th March; that "great but pacific step,' which was to "annihilate the enemies of equal ity." But to say the truth of our excellent citizen prefect, though this measure was to be an ostensible adhesion to the acts of the provisional government, he had by this time, he frankly avows, no more hope of good from that quarter. After Lamartine's famous circular, despair seized upon his patriot heart. The revolution, not being propagandist, was lost. The peacemongers were the traitors. It was "we" who took the revolutionary initiative, exclaims the ardent magistrate! It was "our" task, therefore, to universalize democratic principles! A million of armed citizens would have risen as one man to enfranchise all the nations!" What a chance we lost in this unlucky England of ours.

But imagine such a firebrand in charge of the crime of Paris. Imagine the circumstances and the men that placed him in such a charge, and found or supposed it necessary to keep him there. In vain they made feints to get rid of

him, and very naturally it became matter of vast enjoyment to citizen Caussidière to observe these abortive efforts to oust him and his guard,-"humble but faithful," like Sir Robert Peel's celebrated steed. Citizen Garnier Pagès went one day with citizen Recurt to serve a sort of ejectment upon him, but the Montagnards soon frightened them off!

"Before leaving, Garnier Pagès, perceiving what effect his visit had made, and fearing lest the Montagnards should smell a rat, as regarded his democratic views, endeavored to reinstate himself in their good opinion, by one of those strange speeches which he alone has the happy art of making. My son,' he said to them, my own son is a grocer's boy in the Rue de la Verrerie! the son of your mayor a grocer's shop-boy!!! We are all of us workmen; my son is a workman in the grocery line!' Here he stopped short; whether that he was too much overcome by emotion to continue his speech, or whether the smile visible on the countenances of his audience warned him that he was on the wrong tack, I do not know. He perceived, however, that it would be dangerous to dismiss me at that moment, and he joined Recurt in solicitations to me to remain in office. I consented."

There are some other good stories about Garnier Pagès as at one of the early popular manifestations

How, mon bon, will you not give me your arm?' said Garnier Pagès. If you gave me your hand oftener at the council table,' replied Ledru Rollin, you would have a better claim to my arm in public.'"

At last came the eve of the ever memorable fifteenth of May, which we shall leave the citizen to describe in his own amusing way. It is to be observed throughout the book, that whenever he has organized any mischief that only waits explosion, be becomes very unwell, betakes himself to bed, and suffers from evil presentiments.

an attack from the reactionists, armed all the men employed on his journal, who, with himself, adopted a blouse and a red sash, like the Montagnards. His journal, La Commune,' denounced all the intrigues of the royalists; and the name of Sobrier was always to be found at the bottom of leaders too piquant for many palates. He became the object of complaint of all the fearful; and afterwards they took ample revenge for the alarm he caused them. On the eve of the 15th of May, he came to see me. I was in bed, very unwell, and suffering moreover from evil presentiments. Monier and Bobe, both secretaries at the Préfecture, were at my bedside. Sobrier reproached me with not having seen that it was the object of the reactionists to disarm us. After exchanging a few words, he told me that he purposed being present at the demonstration of the morrow; that all would pass over quietly, and that he and his followers were most peaceably inclined; the object of the demonstration being simply to prove to the Assembly that the people desired an intervention in favor of Poland. I explained to him, as also to others who called upon me in the course of the evening, the immense responsibility that would fall upon the leaders of the demonstration if any unforeseen disturbances should give it a different character. He left me, reiterating promises of the most assuring nature. On the morrow, he was one of those who entered the hall, and was seen quite close to the President. Had he altered his mind? or was he carried along by the popular excitement? It is not for me to say."

So when the days of June came. He knew nothing of what had been agitating Paris for a number of days till he heard of it at the National Assembly. He had withdrawn to a friend's house quite away from the scene of action, and had been busying himself, in the most innocent way imaginable, with getting well as fast as he could, and with the study of some questions he was going to bring forward,-when the disturbance fell quite like a thunderbolt on this amazed ex-prefect!

had come and passed, and its results were stated to the National Assembly, marvellously was it declared that the ex-prefect had positively implicated himself, and must be put on his defence! A sorry exhibition he made thereupon, but which he thus characteristically accounts for.

"The continuous state of excitement in which I had been living for the last week, with twelve hours of a fatiguing debate, had superinduced a complete moral prostration within me. Anger and disgust succeeded each other rapidly in my mind. I had often mentally gone through all the accusations brought against me, and yet when I was in the tribune my memory failed me; an invincible drowsi ness came over me, and I felt the utmost indifference to everything around. A prey to a kind of temporary hallucination, I thought I beheld in that Assembly a tribunal of the Inquisition. The semi-obscurity which pervaded the hall, a heavy atmosphere, and faces_pale from fatigue, increased the deception. I'mechanically commenced reading the enormous bundle of papers I had in my hand, which certainly deserved a better reader. I could scarcely see the writing, and I endeavored to shake off the sort of stupor that was stealing over me. At this moment, when my memory is clear, I remember that on this occasion I was drawling through my narrative as a priest would his breviary. I kept apostrophizing myself all the time, as follows: " Thy family and thy friends are in a state of anxiety; throw away those papers, and speak out like a man:-a bold, unpremeditated speech will have a better effect than this drawling narrative." In fact, once or twice I stopped reading, and by a few energetic words gained for a moment the attention of the Assembly; but I soon fell back into the torpor that enthralled me, and resumed the interminable manuscript. I suffered terribly that night. When I think of the success some of my speeches have obtained under certain circumstances, I ask myself how it happened, that with so much to say, I did not, according to my own estimation, act up to the || exegencies of the case. Opium and fatigue had paralyzed my powers.'

Perhaps we have quoted enough: but a few anecdotes of the mysteries of the prefecture will probably amuse the reader.

SECRET AGENTS.

"A secret agent had instructions to arrest an individual, who was said to be very dexterous, and difficult to catch. The agent

state.

A SPY.

Charles Marchal, arrested after the events of the 15th of May, was brought before M. Cremieux, and set at liberty on his denial that he acted as a spy. He was always to be found in the Salle des Pas Perdus, and entered familiarly into every conversation. One day he came up to me, desirous to enter into conversation. "You are Charles Marchal?" I said. "I am," he replied. "You are number 580. Be off then as soon as possible." I warned M. La Rochejaquelin, two or three days afterwards, to be on his guard against the officiousness of this amiable citizen, who endeavored to pump and then to betray him. Under Louis Philippe, Charles Marchal tendered his services to M. Delessert, then Prefect of Police. He offered to assassinate the Duke of Bordeaux for a million of francs. "I am a man," he writes, "of good education and engaging manners; I shall live in grand style -on an aristocratic scale and shall get introduced to him. I shall by degrees become intimate with him. Opportunity and my own courage will do the rest. On the margin of this letter I read the following note in the handwriting of M. Delessert :-"If this villain repeats his demand, have him arrested immediate ly." My reason for making this revelation is, that Charles Marchal had the impudence to solicit the post of secretary at the Prefecture, and to demand a pension from the National Assembly on the plea of having been imprisoned for political offences, and for having rendered services to the cause of the republic.

It is true that he was sentenced to imprisonment for publishing a pamphlet against LouisPhilippe, but his trial proved that he was in the pay of the Court. This attack against his royal protector originated in a refusal to give him a sum of money he had demanded.

A WARNING NEGLECTED.

In 1835, at the time of Fieschi's attempt, a letter of very solid appearance was thrown aside by the Prefect as not worth reading!

Of course we have plenty of detail in the book about Dela Hodde, and his affairs; about the citizen prefect's share in the Risquons Tout, his determined attitude with his guards in May, and his parting from his brave Montagnards (who were all engaged in June); about his love for Sobrier, Barbes, and other worthies of that class; about his services to his country in the maintenance of "external order with internal disorder," as he whimsically phrases it; and about the exalted hopes which he still entertains of a republic as red as a republic ought to be. We need not longer detain the reader,

The book is curious as a specimen of the sort of people that will always, in more or less numbers, rise to the surface in every great revolution, and be visible there for some brief space. Only M. Caussidière seems a more than ordinarily vulgar and coarse pretender (though with all his love of equality he boasts of having been "held at the baptismal font by the Archduke John Ferdinand of Austria and the Empress Beatrice"), and it is astounding to think that Lamartine could have countenanced such an instrument, and even continued to show him favor when his drifts and schemes had been openly exposed.-Examiner.

POMPEY'S PILLAR.

column of the Corinthian order, standing in This is a graceful an isolated position on an eminence, and itself (including the pedestal and capital) nearly 100 feet in height. The shaft is of red granite, hard as iron: the pedestal, if I remember Whether the column rightly, of sandstone. original purpose, appears doubtful: Sir Gardever belonged to any building, or what was its statue, and this is perhaps the most probable ner Wilkinson believes that it supported a hypothesis, as its dimensions are much larger than those ordinarily found in Greek buildings.

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Pompey's Pillar" is a misnomer, for Wilkinson, who was born to unravel Egyptian. riddles, has succeeded in deciphering the Greek inscription at its base, by which it appears that it was reared by Publius, prefect of Egypt, in honor of Diocletian.

The author of this interesting volume is already favorably known to the public, both through his pencil and pen. "Walks about Jerusalem" is a popular book; with a subject that has been so often ably handled, that it now is difficult to render popular. There is no part of the world of which fuller and and better accounts have been published than of Palestine. It has therefore become dangerous ground, but the work to which we refer has achieved popularity. The author is an enthusiast. Every man who expects to write a good book on Eastern affairs must be an enthusiast. A dull though an able statistician would make nothing of Damascus. He would break down utterly in Petra-would find Beyrout even yet the most interesting port on his journey-would hasten to Smyrna to inquire after figs to Constantinople to learn the state of the Sultan's finances or to Alexandria for a note of the Pasha's last shipment of cotton. The Mediterranean is this author's favorite sea, the Nile his pet river. Of the former he says:

"What a halo seems to hang over the shores of the Mediterranean! such as invests no other place on earth. The empires, whose revolutions fill the stirring page of history, from its dawning light down to modern times, are all around; some, as Tyre and Carthage, having indeed utterly perished; but others, like Egypt, leaving behind a glorious legacy of monumental records. Where can we wander in this beautiful sea, without being reminded of the great and the good of past ages? Our footsteps are ever in the tract of sages and poets, of prophets and apostles, or of Him who is greater than all."

The details of preparation for a journey from Cairo through the wilderness, or anywhere else, are now so well known that we pass them by, as does the author, quietly. We should remark that the volume abounds with beautiful illustrations, of which the first is Cairo. The party started on the 1st October, not of the last October, but, we presume, the one immediately preceding it. Their route was that of the overland mail to Suez, and, therefore, as far as that town, though in, they seemed not to be of, the desert; for, in some respects, Egypt has again become a highway of the nations.

writes what would seem absurd, if we forget that he was an experienced traveller, who had been ere then in the desert :

"What most surprised me was the elasticity of spirits I generally experienced in the wilderness. The dry pure air probably had much to do with this. Sometimes the sense of free movement over the boundless expanse was indescribably and wildly ecstatic; in general the incidents of our little caravan seemed sufficient stimulus, and a universal cheerfulness prevailed among us in those hours of dawn.”

When the sun was up, they felt the miseries of thirst in the desert, and the water was always bad. The evidence of this witness regarding the wilderness corresponds exactly with that of previous travellers. He says:

"There is a terrible and triumphal power of the sun upon this wide region of sterility and death, like that of a despot over a realm blighted by his destructive sway; no trace of verdure is there but the stunted shrubs, which struggle at wide intervals about the sandy bed of some dried watercourse; no sign of living thing but the burrow of the rat, the slimy trail of the serpent, or the carcase of the camel who makes his grave as well as his home in the wilderness, met with in every stage of decay, from the moment when the vultures have but just fleshed their beaks in his fallen corpse, till, stripped of every integument, the wind whistles through the ghastly framework of his naked ribs, and his bones falling asunder and bleached by heat and wind, serve to mark the appointed track upon which his strength was spent."

Egypt is still under the curse of vermin.Miss Martineau complained sadly of their annoyance. Messrs. Irby and Mangles were hunted by them wherever they turned. This author folded his own sheets, spread his carpet, kept the Arabs at a distance, and enjoyed an entire exemption from all the plagues.

The party reached Suez at the same time with the steamer which brought the Overland Mail from Bombay. The arrival offered the traveller an opportunity of gathering up his own stray thoughts of home. He had been struck with the respect paid to the name of his country in the desert, and in the sickly travellers by the caravan he saw part of the prize. It was