dynamics for the vera causa of the Newtonian phi- | from snow. The weather was quite perfect; not a losophy;" and we may borrow the words of that cloud was visible; the sky was clear of haze, and distinguished philosopher in conclusion, and say the air mild, yet not close. This pass of Bérard "There are secrets of nature we would fain see is one of those better known to shepherds and revealed while we yet live in the flesh-resources smugglers than to any other description of travelhidden in her fertile bosom for the well-being of man lers. upon earth, we would fain see opened up for the use of the generation to which we belong. But if we would be enlightened by the one, or benefited by the other, we must lay on power, both moral and physical, without grudging, and without stint."

From Chambers' Journal.

ASCENT OF THE BUET.

IF the Alpine tourist be possessed of tolerable activity, and be desirous to obtain an unequalled mountain view-and, more particularly, a view of the monarch of mountains, Mont Blanc, sublimely seated in his awful state-let him, the tourist, if he be within any moderate distance of the mountain, by no means omit to ascend the Buet; for many years, until English perseverance and activity proved the contrary, supposed to be the highest accessible point of the Alps.

At a quarter past eight we had of course gained somewhat in height; but we nevertheless saw cattle passing the snow, one by one, at a great height above us, and in a few minutes more we again entered on the snow. At a quarter before nine we caught sight of Mont Blanc appearing over the range of the Aiguilles Rouges. At twenty minutes past nine we attained a rough slaty ridge, quite free from snow; in fact the ridge of the pass. From hence we had a wonderful view of mountain-tops in all directions. It was not cold, but the sky now put on the appearance of the weather being about to change for the worse. Every peak, however, even the most distant, was quite clear; nor was there the slightest cloud or haze upon any part of Mont Blanc. From this pass we might have descended directly to Servoz; but our purpose was of a much more aspiring nature. After pausing a few minutes, we commenced and completed a fatiguing It was on the 24th of July, 1844, that I left Cha-ascent of the now eternal snow, which was sucmouny, with my guide, Ferdinand Tissay, each ceeded by a heart-breaking slope of bare slaty démounted on a mule, at half-past three in the morn- bris, occupying us together till forty minutes after ing, on our way to the Buet. At half-past four we ten o'clock. Again another slope of snow sucreached Argentiere; and here I could not help ceeded, and again another ascent of slaty fragments, stopping for several minutes to admire, though I which brought us, at a quarter past eleven, to had many times seen it before, the wonderful ice- the remains of the stone hovel of the philosopher battlemented glacier of Argentiere, and the sublime Pictet, in which he used to take shelter when overgranite spire of the Aiguille Verte, now tinged with taken by bad weather in this elevated desert. One the earliest beams of the sun, which, for peaks of more short slaty ridge, and a steep slope of soft such stupendous elevation, had already risen. At snow, brought us to the summit of the Buet, 10,154 half-past five, we stopped for a short time at the English feet, according to De Saussure, above the Chalets of Poyat; after which we took the direc- level of the sea, at half-past eleven, after a fatiguing tion of the Col du Bérard. Our way at first lay walk of five hours from the place where we left the over a stony and rather boggy ascent; and after- mules, and eight hours exactly from Chamouny. wards up an exceedingly wild and picturesque The sun at half-past eleven was exactly over the valley, with a loud torrent foaming as usual through | Aiguille du Midi, as seen from hence. From this fine it. Here the path became so exceedingly rough mountain-summit we looked clear away over the and steep, that I confess I was not sorry to leave summit of the Brever, and of the Aiguilles Rouges the mules before we came to the Pierre de Bérard, (which we had so often looked up to from Chamouwhich we were obliged to do, in consequence of our ny) to Mont Blanc, and his attendant Aiguilles in finding so much yet unmelted winter's snow. We all their glory. Mont Blanc, seen from this height, left our mules with a youth who had preceded us and at this distance, towered in kingly state over all on foot from Chamouny, and began our own jour- his vassals. There were some clouds about, but ney on foot at half-past six, passing over a bed of none to impede the view; nor was there a breath snow, with a torrent audibly running underneath, of wind. The air, too, was quite mild; but my for half an hour or more. At a quarter past seven feet now became excessively cold, from my having we reached the Pierre de Bérard, a point beyond been so long walking in the soft snow. which mules never pass. Travellers have frequent- tain summits visible from hence are so numerous, ly made the Pierre de Bérard their halting-place that to mention them all would be to make a catafor the night; and indeed there is a hollow under logue of a considerable portion of the Alps. Bethis rock large enough to shelter several people; yond the range of Mont Blanc, towards the west, and an additional poor protection is afforded by a far in the Taxentaise, I saw very many undulating rough wall of stones to keep out the wind. But it snowy summits, with a light thrown over them that is needless to add that bivouacs in such places, gave them the appearance of the colored waves seen though no doubt highly romantic, should for obvious in a surface of mother-of-pearl; in another direction, reasons be avoided, unless in cases of extreme ne- through a mountain gap, we got a peep at the Lake cessity. For, after all, even "for beggars or of Geneva, The Jura range, on the other side of thieves," a worse lodging could scarcely be found. the lake, was very distinct; so were the summits I am always, I confess, for a good night's rest; and of the Oberland Alps, and all the heights quite am apt to suspect the energy and perseverance of round towards the Simplon. We were here, althose who affect to despise conveniencies. The though the air was perfectly calm, at a height to hovel, formed in this desolate spot almost wholly which the voice of the torrent did not reach; and by nature, was very damp and dirty, and contained the impression of stillness I shall never forget. a large patch of snow, yet remaining from the Close on the edge of the highest point of the mounblasts and drifts of the winter. At this spot we tain, where the precipice suddenly sinks down with first obtained a sight of the Oberland Alps, and from frightful rapidity, and to which we scarcely dared hence our way, though steep, was for a time free approach, for fear of dislodging a mass of the soft

The moun

snow, we saw the track of a chamois, that must have very lately passed. I observed several insects half dead lying on the snow during our ascent; and whilst we stood on the summit-oh, satire on human ambition!-several common butterflies flew over our heads.

The view from the summit of the Buet reminds one forcibly of one of the old-fashioned maps of all the mountains in the world at one view. In a word, it is the most unpicturesque thing possible, but possessing a grandeur and sublimity peculiar to itself, which, once seen, is never through life forgot

ten.

We could not remain on the actual summit for any length of time, for the snow was so soft, that we could not sit down, and no dry rock was visible, and my feet were aching excessively with the cold of the wet snow; so we descended to some dry rocks a little way down, where we changed our stockings, and got quite warm, and enjoyed the luncheon we brought with us very much. We remained here until one o'clock. Neither on the summit, nor during the ascent, did either I or my guide experience any inconvenience from the rarity of the air. During the ascent, I twice heard that peculiar solemn noise, difficult to describe, something between a deep sigh and a lourd, heavy, sullen, subdued sound of an explosion, which no doubt is frequently to be heard in these upper regions. It is probably occasioned by some slip or giving way of the snow under the influence of the mid-day sun. Beneath the snow-cliffs, my guide pointed out to me a place which, he told me, was that in which, in the year 1800, Mr. Eschen, a Dane, lost his life. In the spot which he pointed out, the snow appeared deeply crevassed; and, to the most unpractised eye, it was evidently not the way up the mountain. It was hard to believe that any one would have ventured into such a place.

I have already mentioned the stone hovel on the summit of the Buet, erected for the accommodation of the philosopher Pictet. I believe he made on this spot many observations with the barometer, as well as experiments on heat and radiation; the Buet is also alluded to by name, in a paper by him in the English " Philosophical Transactions," concerning the measurement of an arch of the meridian,

dated 1791.

66

The steep and fatiguing slopes of slaty débris

which I have mentioned before, are enriched with some of the rarest of the Alpine plants.

scenes I ever beheld. Some of the rock and water scenes are scarcely to be exceeded for beauty and grandeur. No one should omit, if possible, during a séjour at Chamouny, an excursion as far at least as the Pierre de Bérard.

We arrived at the Chalets de Poyat at four o'clock, and I got back to Chamouny on my mule at a quarter before six. Thus the expedition from Chamouny to the summit of the Buet, and back, occupies just about fifteen hours.

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM CANTON, CHINA. -A foreigner has just started a newspaper in the Chinese language. Whether it will succeed or not remains to be seen. It is a novelty to the people. The only paper published by the Chinese that can at all be depended upon is the Pekin Gazette. This is published at irregular periods at the capital, and thence distributed throughout the empire. It is a matter of great importance for the mandarins to secure an early reading of the Gazette, in order that they may be enabled to proceed in their official duties; for it generally seems that the only means by which the officers of government arrive at a knowledge of the will of their sovereign is through the medium of that Gazette.

The

Express riders are in readiness at Pekin to carry the Gazettes in different directions over the empire as soon as published. The same rider carries the Gazette from Pekin to any one city, as for instance Canton, performing the distance on horseback by means of relays of horses at short distances. distance from Pekin to Canton is performed in six days, riding incessantly night and day; and, as you may readily imagine, proves fatal to a great portion of the riders. As a general rule, no rider is able to make more than two trips, as he either dies or becomes permanently disabled.

A high mandarin who is under the necessity of securing an early perusal of the Gazette, pays not far from $20 per month for his paper-whereas those who are content or who are able to defer the perusal to a later date, pay proportionably less, say $2 per month.

We missionaries are not enough interested to subscribe for the paper, and if we did so, the perusal of it would scarcely repay the trouble and expense. It is generally filled with court gossip and

court ceremonies, alike insipid and uninstructive.

In the spirit of most men, lies a creative power, In descending, we glissaded the greater part of which only needs the right moment to call forth the the slopes of snow; but where we kept the track spark. But external influences, the incessant workof our ascent, I was surprised to find that our foot-ing of what is called civilization, the machinery of steps, though very deeply impressed, were almost entirely effaced by the action of the sun. Our descent was very rapid, and varied with frequent falls; the ensuing glissading of which may, without care, be carried far beyond a joke. So overpowering was the glare from the snow on the Buet, that I did not find a large goggling pair of green spectacles, together with a thick black crape veil, more protection to the eyes than was necessary.

state affairs, the eternal teaching and preaching with the smallest opportunities for action-all the pressure which is brought gradually to bear upon man, in order to give one form to all, and bring them suitably near to each other, and the endless drilling and polishing, which goes to make a wellformed man; these and many other things stifle the living powers of man. And as this process continues, the number of these men will increase, who, in the inactivity of their unmanned souls, in order to have something, will strive after foreign command, influence, and thoughts. When this kind of formation shall have reached its height, the world will slumber in the much-praised quiet of a Paraguay; there will be but one church, and one doctrine; and it will be indifferent whether a rational head, or a mere automaton, administers the state

We finally reached the spot where we had left our mules, below the Pierre de Bérard, at a quarter before three o'clock; that is, in an hour and three quarters from the summit of the mountain, it having taken us five hours to ascend the same distance. I continued my way on foot, leaving the guide and mules to follow all the way down, and had now ample leisure to admire the scenery of the valley we had ridden up in the morning, which presents and church.-Jacobs. one of the wildest and most thoroughly picturesque |

| ceremoniously observed, "The night is very cool, my dear; I must beg your leave to keep on my

M. Bichonnet would never have committed the solecism of doing such a thing without his wife's permission. Madame Bichonnet merely nodded assent, and seemed to expect something else; but as her husband remained silent, she said, after a pause, " And the cake, my dear?"

"The cake is in the oven. I saw it myself; a large, golden-colored cake.”

66

Perhaps I shall never live to eat another," mournfully sighed Madame Bichonnet. "Will it be here soon?" she added, after a pause.

"In less than half an hour, my dear." Another pause.

"Will it be quite hot?" asked madame, opening her half-shut eyes.

66

Quite hot."

The portress uttered something which sounded like a hum of satisfaction, and remained silent. In less than half an hour the cake arrived, carried by the pastry-cook's boy. It was immediately placed between two earthen dishes, which had been kept warming for this purpose; and, as Madame Bichonnet observed, "It really looked like a cake you might wish to eat on your deathbed." Some time elapsed, and though it was past seven, none of the guests arrived. Madame Bichonnet, who sat near the cake, became very impatient at this unreasonable delay, and in a querulous tone inquired “if they were coming?" Her husband answered he did not know, but that he strongly suspected M. and Madame Miroiton, with their young ladies-he

A SOIREE IN A PORTER'S LODGE. MONSIEUR and Madame Bichonnet were not ordi-hat." nary porters. They resided in the handsomest house of a respectable street of Paris; their lodge, situated on the ground-floor, on the left-hand side of the passage, at a convenient distance from the stair-case, was large and airy, and looked upon the street. Their duties, which consisted in attending to the door, and keeping the house clean, were unusually light, and very liberally remunerated-considering that, like all the members of their worthy class, they were lodged rent-free, and kept by their landlord and the joint contributions of the lodgers in wood and candlelight all the year round, without mentioning the presents they regularly received on new-year's day. In short, M. and Madame Bichonnet were, as the reader can see, very comfortable people in their way; and they might have been perfectly happy, had not an unlucky spirit of ambition taken possession of their hearts, and made them resolve to shine, no matter at what cost. They gave parties to which the whole neighborhood was invited; and so conspicuous did they render themselves, that the lodge of the Bichonnets became ere long a term synonymous with the focus of porter-scandal and refinement. Of course, though they were highly popular with some individuals, they were also much ridiculed by others; but on this head, M. Bichonnet wisely observed, that they only met with the common fate of genius; "they were envied and admired." Like many illustrious individuals, the porter and his wife did not, however, differ greatly from the common race of mortals. Madame Bichonnet was a tall, muscular, raw-scorned the vulgar expression of daughters-would boned woman, whose florid complexion beamed with health, but who was, nevertheless, in a very delicate state; for, as she frequently assured her lodgers and friends, in a low, languishing tone, "she knew she was in a deep decline, and had already given up all worldly thoughts." M. Bichonnet was a thin, tan-skinned little man, with a bright, restless, brown eye, and a highly pragmatical and consequential eye-brow. He seldom spoke, but the little he did say was all concerning his rank and importance in society. He had also a few profound ideas on politics, and "our duties to our fellow-men," of which he occasionally allowed his friends to catch a glimpse; for as those ideas were so very deep, they could scarcely be said to fathom them. Amongst M. Bichonnet's favorite notions, was the firm belief entertained by him, ever since the year 1830, that Louis Philippe had not six months to remain on the throne. This assertion, which he made with many mysterious nods and hints, had given him, amongst the timid and prudent people of the neighborhood, a reputation of carbonarism. It was even strongly suspected by some wise heads that the convivial parties given in his lodge were only offered to republicans in disguise. These malicious rumors did not, however, prevent M. and Madame Bichonnet from resolving to have a party on Twelfth Night of the year 183-. According to the usual custom, they were to have a cake; and in the earlier part of the evening, M. Bichonnet went out to order it at the pastry-cook's before the arrival of the guests, leaving his wife, or, as he loved to call her, his spouse, alone in the lodge, seated in a softcushioned arm-chair opposite the fire, and dozing very comfortably; for, under pretence of making up for her bad nights, Madame Bichonnet was always dozing. She had not been long alone when her husband came in. Approaching the fire, he

soon make their appearance; upon which Madame Bichonnet observed, with a significant smile, they had done well to invite M. Tourneur to come. The fact is, both husband and wife had quite a passion for match-making. The portress delighted in it for the sake of the thing, and her husband, because

he felt it was a duty he owed to his fellow-men;" but there were evil-minded persons, who asserted their thoughts went no further than the marriagedinner. "As though," exclaimed Madame Bichonnet, when she was told of this," she could think of such things with one foot in the grave!" Whatever were their real sentiments on this subject, it is, however, certain that the Bichonnets never gave a party without having at the same time some matrimonial design in view.

On this occasion the person for whose conjugal felicity they felt so lively an interest was a young shoemaker, M. Tourneur, who had recently settled in the street, and whose handsome shop was precisely opposite the window of the lodge. Antoine Tourneur was not yet a rich man, but his business promised well; his character was irreproachable; and though he could not exactly be termed handsome, good-temper was written on his frank, open features. He had, moreover, that smart, tidy look so charaeteristie of the Parisian journeyman. Indeed, Madame Bichonnet averred, that of all the shoemakers who met at Montmartre on SaintCrispin's Day-their yearly festival-he undoubtedly cut the most gallant figure; and that the dark mustache which he wore, notwithstanding his peaceful avocation, was perfectly irresistible. It is true that, notwithstanding those advantages, Antoine Tourneur had not expressed to Madame Bichonnes the least wish for a wife; but as she concluded that he wanted one, she resolved to provide him with one without delay. Fortunately for her purpose,

she found two ladies—in the street too-who seemed quite willing to enter into her views. Perhaps it will be objected that one lady was enough for the purpose; but the prudent portress was of another opinion; she thought that if one did not suit, the other might; and that, in all cases, they would set one another off. This had been her plan hitherto; and, to say the truth, she had vast experience in those matters.

The eldest of those ladies—both of whom were well known to Tourneur, whose customers they were was Mademoiselle Ursule, the staymaker, who lived next door to him. She was, according to her own assertion, twenty-five years of age; but her features-without speaking of common report, which said ten-assigned her at least six or seven more summers. She was thin and withered-looking; she dressed very richly and tastily; and there was certainly nothing vulgar about her. It was reported that she had money in the bank; and this, as Mademoiselle Miroiton, her rival, spitefully observed, was her only attraction. It was seemingly a powerful one, for it had enabled her to refuse several good offers of marriage. Mademoiselle Miroiton, who was a dressmaker, and the daughter of one of the neighboring porters, had no money like Mademoiselle Ursule; but she was a good figure, had a brilliant complexion, a tolerable quantity of glossy dark hair, and a sparkling, though rather scornful, black eye; so that, as Madame Bichonnet wisely concluded, if Antoine Tourneur liked beauty, Mademoiselle Miroiton would do remarkably well for him; whereas, if he preferred wealth, Mademoiselle Ursule would be quite the thing. Having first delicately sounded the two ladies, and found them very favorably disposed, she next invited them to come and spend with her "The Evening of the Kings," as Twelfth Night is termed, intimating to them that Antoine Tourneur would be there, with only a few friends.

cake, Madame Bichonnet perceived a circumstance she had hitherto overlooked: they were in all thirteen individuals present. Now, amongst Madame Bichonnet's weaknesses, was the vulgar belief that when thirteen persons met, one of them must certainly die within the year. On noticing this ominous fact, she therefore gave a very dismal groan, and intimated to her friends they need not have any fear, as she was certainly the doomed one. Everybody immediately sympathized with her, with the exception of Madame Miroiton, who, being a strongminded woman, loudly asserted that this was a weakness she must overcome, and that she would not encourage her in it by sending home one of her children. Antoine Tourneur gallantly offered to absent himself, but Madame Bichonnet would not hear of it; and she at length decided that her husband should go and invite Rosine, a young bonnetmaker who lived in one of the attics, to come and share their mirth. M. Bichonnet departed on his errand, and after some time, made his appearance with Rosine, whom he had, however, found some difficulty in inducing to accompany him.

Her entrance into the lodge was witnessed with anything but pleasure by Mademoiselle Ursule and the daughter of the Miroitons. The former, espe cially, was highly indignant: the idea of associating with a bonnet-maker seemed to her perfectly preposterous; and notwithstanding the beseeching and timid glance which the young girl cast towards her, Mademoiselle Ursule immediately set her down for an artful, designing creature, and applied her scentbottle to her nose with great contempt. Mademoiselle Miroiton was at first equally annoyed; but on noticing the paleness of the new-comer, who was, moreover, in deep mourning, she immediately made room for her near herself, concluding that the contrast would greatly enhance the brilliancy of her own complexion, and the freshness of her attire.

The first impression which Rosine's appearance was calculated to produce, was not indeed to her advantage. But though she might at first be thought plain, few persons who examined her closely thought so long. Her features were not remarkably regular, but she had a profusion of fair silken tresses, which beamed like gold beneath her black crape cap, eyes of a deep azure blue, dark eyebrows and eyelashes, and a sweet smile and pleasant voice, which rendered her at times quite fascinating, notwithstanding the languid and sickly expression her features had contracted during a life of privation and poverty. Having lost her mother a few months back, she was now an orphan; and as she was not a native of Paris, she had remained wholly friendless and alone in the great city. Fortunately for her, she found some employment in the house of a great milliner, who lived in the street; and although she had to toil almost constantly, in order to earn enough for her support, she was never heard to repine or to complain, "In short," as Madame Bichonnet observed to her guests shortly before she entered, "she was a very nice girl indeed, whom she loved to patronize."

Just as Madame Bichonnet's patience was exhausted, and she observed very snappishly that the cake was quite ruined, a knock at the door announced the arrival of her expected guests. It was Antoine Tourneur, who came in with the Miroiton family; for, instead of taking Madame Bichonnet's hint, and bringing only their eldest daughter, M. and Madame Miroiton had thought fit to come accompanied by four of their children; the fifth, a lad of about fourteen, had remained at home to take care of the lodge. On seeing them enter, and on thinking of the size of her cake, Madame Bichonnet's heart failed her; but she nevertheless received her guests with every demonstration of joy. Shortly after their arrival, Mademoiselle Ursule made her appearance, very richly attired as usual; and, as Mademoiselle Miroiton observed in a whisper to her sister, as usual giving herself airs. These airs consisted in holding a delicate cambric pocket-handkerchief in her hand, and, when she meant to be highly disdainful, in applying a scent-bottle to her nose, which, as she often observed, was of the truly aristocratic form, Besides the stay-maker, there were several other guests whom Madame Bichonnet Immediately after Rosine's entrance, Antoine now bitterly regretted having invited, as she had Tourneur proposed to uncork two bottles of chamonly meant them to " fill up the vacant spaces of pagne, which he had brought with him; Madame her tableau, now quite thronged with Madame Mi-Bichonnet instantly volunteered to find the chamroiton's young family. These individuals were two pagne glasses from the cupboard of the first-floor lodgladies'-maids, who resided in the house, and a mys-ers, who had confided to her the key of their apartterious, melancholy-looking young man, who lived nobody knew how, and always sang comic songs wherever he was invited. When they were all seated, and there was some talk of cutting up the

ment whilst they were away; and Mademoiselle Ursule immediately sent out one of the young Miroi tons for two dozen of those biscuits, without which, the orthodox drinkers assert, champagne cannot be

drunk. In the meanwhile a good deal of talking | ecstacies. Mademoiselle Ursule was too genteel to went on in different parts of the company: M. Bichonnet, who was more than usually dignified, conversed in a mysterious tone with M. Miroiton, a simple-minded man, discussing the respective merits of Thiers and Guizot, and assuring him, in a low, subdued voice, that before six months he might expect to see Louis Philippe dethroned. On hearing this piece of intelligence, the pacific M. Miroiton looked uneasily round, and, with a cough of dismay, inquired of his friend how he had learned this. M. Bichonnet gave a mysterious nod, and merely said "he knew it."

"But, my good Monsieur Bichonnet," urged the alarmed Miroiton, "I hope you have no ill-will against the king?"

seem much amused; but as her vigilant eye noticed that though his discourse was directed towards her and Mademoiselle Miroiton, yet his glances more frequently wandered in the direction of Rosine, she began to look very superciliously on the young milliner once more, setting her down as an "artful, designing creature." As somebody said something about the champagne, which had in the mean while been forgotten, Madame Bichonnet proposed to cut up the cake first. This was accordingly done, and Rosine, as the youngest lady present, was requested to hand it round to the company. She complied, and though somewhat embarrassed, acquitted herself of her office with much grace and modesty. Antoine was the last person to whom she handed his share of the cake, and perhaps for this reason, or perhaps because, as Mademoiselle Miroiton now began to think, he was engaged in gazing on the young milliner, he neglected to examine his portion of the cake, in order to see whether it contained the bean always inserted in it, and which renders him to whose lot it falls king for the evening.

The young man who sang the comic songs immediately discovered that he had not the bean; the ladies'-maids found out as much; Madame Miroiton declared she had not got it; all her children echoed the words; M. Bichonnet did not speak, not thinking it dignified; and M. Miroiton, because his mouth was full.

"I am not queen," sharply answered the staymaker, with a tone and look which seemed to say she might have been if she would.

Mademoiselle Miroiton colored, and in a softened tone said to Antoine, “Are you king, Monsieur Tourneur?"

"Sir," solemnly replied Bichonnet, "I entertain no evil sentiment against Louis Philippe; fate has never thrown us together, and we have, I may say, nothing in common either in feelings or opinions; but it is my duty to my fellow-men to inform them, when the opportunity occurs, that before six months have passed over their heads, he will have ceased to sit on the throne of France." And leaving M. Miroiton in a state of unutterable dismay, he turned from him with a mysterious glance, as though thinking that enough had been said on the subject. Whilst this political discussion was going on, Mesdames Bichonnet and Miroiton were engaged in informing one another of the faults and merits of their respective lodgers. Madame Miroiton greatly "I suppose Mademoiselle Ursule is queen ?" ironinveighed against the avariciousness of hers; Mad-ically observed Mademoiselle Miroiton. ame Bichonnet made no similar complaints, but only lamented the want of politeness which existed in their conduct towards her. Thus, if a letter came, they insisted to have it brought up instantly; or they actually desired that Madame Bichonnet should not read their newspaper in the morning before it was sent up to them. In short, they went to such lengths, that M. and Madame Bichonnet had been compelled to draw up a little code of regulations, which was placed at the foot of the staircase for their benefit. By the first regulation, all the lodgers were requested to wipe their feet well before they went up stairs; by the second, they were recommended to keep no dogs, and not to receive visitors who were likely to be accompanied by those animals; by the third, they were informed that, on account of their portress' delicate health, they were expected never to stay out later than twelve o'clock at night. After that hour, M. and Madame Bichonnet hinted that they should lie under the painful necessity of not opening the door to them. To this regulation there was, however, affixed a N. B., by which the lodgers were told that they could be admitted even after one or two, on paying a fine of fifty centimes [5d.] On hearing this admirable code, Madame Miroiton sighed, and only wished they could have it too; but their lodgers were so restive, they would never agree to it, and Miroiton could never be induced to propose it to them.

,"

"We never propose those things to our lodgers,' superciliously observed Madame Bichonnet. "We do them, and they submit as a matter of course."

Antoine started, and turning his eyes from Rosine, for the first time opened his portion of the cake. No sooner had he done so, than the dark bean appeared, enshrined in the yellow crust. Immediately a loud cry of "Tourneur is king! Long live the king!" resounded in the lodge. Antoine laughed, and bowing, intimated his wish of speaking; but the loyalty of his new subjects was not thus easily checked, and the Miroiton part of the company especially showed their delight by making an unusual noise. When he was at last allowed to speak, he returned thanks in a short speech, and concluded by drinking the health of all present. No sooner had he raised his glass to his lips, than the cries of “The king drinks! Long live the king!" again echoed round. But when this first excitement had somewhat subsided, Antoine was requested by Madame Bichonnet to use his privilege, and name a queen for the evening. On hearing this, Mademoiselle Miroiton looked modestly on her plate, whilst Mademoiselle Ursule applied her scent-bottle to her nose. "Ho, ho!" continued Madame Bichonnet, with a knowing wink, and glancing towards the spot where Madamoiselle Miroiton and the staymaker were both seated, so that it could not be known precisely to which of the two she meant to allude, "I think I know who will be queen." She paused, struck aghast with astonishment and dismay

Whilst the two portresses were thus engaged, the younger portion of the company had gathered round Antoine Tourneur, whose good-humor ren--for Antoine had, with a low bow, placed the bean dered him a general favorite. The young man who in the glass of Rosine, thus proclaiming her queen sang the comic songs, and the two ladies'-maids, for the evening. whom Madame Bichonnet had invited because they were neither young nor pretty, as much as through any other motive, listened to his sallies in silence; but the Miroiton part of the family were in perfect

A deep, ominous silence followed this daring act. Madame Miroiton gazed on Madame Bichonnet with an indignant glance, as much as to say, "You see it!" and Madame Bichonnet turned up her eyes,