THE SWORD OF HONOUR.

It is curious that no confirmation can be obtained of this exhibition from contemporary authorities. The period was prolific in pamphlets and broadsides, but political excitement probably engrossed the minds of the majority, and rendered them careless of the wonders of nature. Yet the individual in question may in all likelihood be traced down to the present day, and portions of it seen and handled by the existing generation. In Tradescant's catalogue of his "Collection of Rarities preserved at South Lambeth, near London," 1656, we find an entry—"Dodar from the island Mauritius; it is not able to flie, being so big." It is enumerated under the head of "Whole birds;" and Willughby, whoseOrnithologiaappeared in 1676, says of the Dodo, "Exuvias hujusce avis vidimus in museo Tradescantiano."The same specimen is alluded to by Llhwyd in 1684, and by Hyde in 1700,—having passed, meanwhile, into the Ashmolean Museum, at Oxford, with the rest of the Tradescantian collection. As Tradescant was the most noted collector of things natural in his day, and there were few, if any, to enter into competition with him, it may be well supposed that such arara avisas a living Dodo would attract his close attention, and that it would, in all probability, find its way into his cabinet on its decease. It may, therefore, be inferred that the same individual which was exhibited in London, and described by Lestrange in 1638, is that recorded as a stuffed specimen in the catalogue of Tradescant's Museum, (1656,) and bequeathed by him, with his other curiosities, to Elias Ashmole, the munificent founder of the still existing museum at Oxford.

The considerate reader will not unnaturally ask, Where is now that last of Dodos? and echo answers, Where? Alas! it was destroyed, "by order of the Visitors," in 1755. The following is the evidence of that destruction, as given by Mr J. S. Duncan in the 3d volume of theZoological Journal, p. 559:—

"In the Ashmolean Catalogue, made by Ed. Llhwyd, musei procustos, 1684, (Plott being then keeper,) the entry of the bird is 'No. 29, Gallus gallinaceus peregrinus Clusii,' &c. In a catalogue made subsequently to 1755, it is stated, 'The numbers from 5 to 46, being decayed, were ordered to be removed at a meeting of the majority of the Visitors, Jan. 8, 1755.' Among these, of course, was included the Dodo, its number being 29. This is further shown by a new catalogue, completed in 1756, in which the order of the Visitors is recorded as follows:—'Illa quibus nullus in margine assignatur numerus, a Musæo subducta sunt cimelia, annuentibus Vice-Cancellario aliisque Curatoribus ad ea lustranda convocatis, die Januarii 8vo,A.D.1755.' The Dodo is one of those which are here without the number."

By some lucky accident, however, a small portion of "this last descendant of an ancient race," as Mr Strickland terms it, escaped the clutches of the destroyers. "The head and one of the feet were saved from the flames, and are still preserved in the Ashmolean Museum."[20]

Let us now retrace our steps, for the sake of taking up, very briefly, the history of the other known remnants of this now extinct species. Among the printed books of the Ashmolean Museum, there is a small tract, of which the second edition (the first is without date) is entitled, "A Catalogue of many natural rarities, with great industry, cost, and thirty years' travel in foreign countries, collected by Robert Hubert,aliasForges, gent. and sworn servant to his majesty; and daily to be seen at the place formerly called the Music House, near the west end of St Paul's Church," 12mo, London, 1665. At page 11 is the following entry:—"A legge of a Dodo, a great heavy bird that cannot fly: it is a bird of the Maurcius island." This specimen is supposed to be that which afterwards passed into the possession of the Royal Society, is recorded in their catalogue ofNatural and Artificial Curiosities, published by Grew in 1681, and is now in the British Museum. It is somewhat larger than the Ashmolean foot, and, from its excellent state of preservation, finely exhibits the external characters of the toes and tarsus.

In Olearus's catalogue of the museum at Gottorf, (the seat of the Dukes of Schleswig, and recently a less easy one than we have known it,) of which the first edition was published in 1666, there is the following notice of a Dodo's head:—

"No. 5 is the head of a foreign bird, which Clusius namesGallus peregrinus, MirenbergCygnus cucullatus, and the Dutch walghvögel, from the disgust which they are said to have taken to its hard flesh. The Dutch seem to have first discovered this bird in the island of Mauritius; and it is stated to have no wings, but in place of them two winglets, like the emeu and the penguins."—(P. 25.)

This specimen, after having been disregarded, if not forgotten, for nearly two centuries, was lately re-discovered, by Professor C. Reinhardt, amongst a mass of ancient rubbish, and is now in the public museum of Copenhagen, where it was examined by Mr Strickland two years ago.[21]The integumentary portions have been all removed, but it exhibits the same osteological characters as the Oxford head, though less perfect, the base of the occiput being absent. It is of somewhat smaller size.

The remnants now noticed—three heads and two feet—are the only ascertained existing portions of the famous Dodo; a bird which, as we have seen in the preceding extracts, might have been well enough known to such of our great great-grandfathers as were in the sea-faring line.

But when did the last Dodo die? We cannot answer that question articulately, as to the very year, still less as to the season, or time of day—and we believe that no intimations of the event were sent to the kindred; but we do not hesitate to state our belief that that affecting occurrence or bereavement took place some time subsequent to the summer of 1681, and prior to 1693. The latest evidence of the existence of Dodos in the Mauritius is contained in a manuscript of the British Museum, entitled "A coppey of Mr Benj. Harry's Journall when he was chief mate of the Shippe Berkley Castle, Captn. Wm. Talbot commander, on voyage to the Coste and Bay, 1679, which voyage they wintered at the Maurrisshes." On the return from India, being unable to weather the Cape of Good Hope, they determined to make for "the Marushes," the 4th June 1681. They saw the land on the 3d July, and on the 11th they began to build huts, and with much labour spread out their cargo to dry:—

"Now, having a little respitt, I will make a little description of the island, first of its producks, then of its parts; ffirst, of winged and feathered ffowle, the less passant areDodos, whose fflesh is very hard, a small sort of Gees, reasonably good Teele, Cuckoes, Pasca fflemingos, Turtle Doves, large Batts, many small birds which are good.... Heer are many wild hoggs and land-turtle which are very good, other small creators on the Land, as Scorpions and Musketoes, these in small numbers, Batts and ffleys a multitude, Munkeys of various sorts."

After this all historical evidence of the existence of the Dodo ceases, although we cannot doubt that they continued for yet a few years. The Dutch first colonised the Mauritius in 1644. The island is not above forty miles in length; and although, when first discovered, it was found clothed with dense forests of palms, and various other trees—among whose columnar stems and leafy umbrage the native creatures might find a safe abode, with food and shelter—how speedily would not the improvident rapacity of hungry colonists, or of reckless fresh-flesh-bereaved mariners, diminish the numbers of a large and heavy-bodied bird, of powerless wing and slow of foot, and useful, moreover, in the way of culinary consumption. Mr Strickland is of opinion that their destruction would be further hastened, or might be mainly caused, by the dogs, cats, and swine which accompany man in his migrations, and become themselves emancipated in the forests. All these creatures are more or less carnivorous, and are fond of eggs and young birds; and as the Dodo is said to have hatched only one egg at a time, a single savage mouthful might suffice to destroy the hope of a family for many a day.

That the destruction of Dodos was completed by 1693, Mr Strickland thinks may be inferred from the narrative of Leguat, who, in that year, remained several months in the Mauritius, and, while enumerating its animalproductions at considerable length, makes no mention whatever of the bird in question. He adds,—"L'isle était autrefois toute remplie d'oyes et de canards sauvages; de poules d'eau, de gelinottes, de tortues de mer et de terre,mais tout cela est devenue fort rare." And, while referring to the "hogs of the China kind," he states that these beasts do a great deal of damage, by devouring all the young animals they can catch. It is thus sufficiently evident that civilisation was making aggressive inroads on the natural state of the Mauritius even in 1693.

The Dutch evacuated the island in 1712, and were succeeded by the French, who colonised it under the name of Isle de France; and this change in the population no doubt accounts for the almost entire absence of any traditionary knowledge of this remarkable bird among the later inhabitants. Baron Grant lived in the Mauritius for twenty years from 1740; and his son, who compiled his papers into a history of the island, states that no trace of such a bird was to be found at that time. In theObservations sur la Physiquefor the year 1778, there is a negative notice, by M. Morel, of the Dodo and its kindred. "Ces oiseaux, si bien décrits dans le tome 2 de l'Histoire des Oiseaux de M. le Comte de Buffon, n'ont jamais été vus aux Isles de France, &c., depuis plus de 60 ans que ces parages sont habités et visités par des colonies Françoises. Les plus anciens habitans assurent tous que ces oiseaux monstrueux leur ont toujours été inconnus." M. Bory St Vincent, who visited the Mauritius and Bourbon in 1801, and has given us an account of the physical features of those islands in his "Voyage," assures us (vol. ii. p. 306) that he instituted all possible inquiries regarding the Dodo (or Dronte) and its kindred, without being able to pick up the slightest information on the subject; and although he advertised "une grande recompense a qui pourrait lui donner la moindre indice de l'ancienne existence de cet oiseau, un silence universel a prouvé que le souvenir même du Dronte était perdu parmi les créoles." De Blainville informs us, (Nouv. Ann. Mus.iv. 31,) that the subject was discussed at a public dinner at the Mauritius in 1816, where were present several persons from seventy to ninety years of age, none of whom had any knowledge of any Dodo, either from recollection or tradition. Finally, Mr J. V. Thompson, who resided for some years in Mauritius prior to 1816, states, (Mag. of Nat. Hist., ii. 443,) that no more traces could then be found of the Dodo than of the truth of the tale of Paul and Virginia.

But the historical evidence already adduced, as to the former existence of this bird, is confirmed in a very interesting manner by what may be called the pictorial proof. Besides the rude delineations given by the earlier voyagers, there are several old oil-paintings of the Dodo still extant, by skilful artists, who had no other object in view than to represent with accuracy the forms before them. These paintings are five in number, whereof one is anonymous; three bear the name of Roland Savery, an eminent Dutch animal-painter of the early portion of the seventeenth century, and one is by John Savery, Roland's nephew.

The first of these is the best known, and is that from which the figure of the Dodo, in all modern compilations of ornithology, has been copied. It once belonged to George Edwards, who, in his work on birds, (vi. 294,) tells us, that "the original picture was drawn in Hollandfrom the living bird, brought from St Maurice's island in the East Indies, in the early times of the discovery of the Indies by the way of the Cape of Good Hope. It was the property of the late Sir H. Sloane to the time of his death, and afterwards becoming my property. I deposited it in the British Museum as a great curiosity. The above history of the picture I had from Sir H. Sloane, and the late Dr Mortimer, secretary to the Royal Society." It is still preserved in the place to which Edwards had consigned it, and may be seen in the bird gallery, along with the actual foot already mentioned. Although without name or date, the similarity both of design and execution, leads to the conclusion that it was by one or other of the Saverys. It may be seen engraved in thePenny Cyclopædia, in illustration of Mr Broderip's articleDodoin that work.

The second painting, one of Roland Savery's, is in the royal collection at the Hague, and may be regarded as achef-d'œuvre. It represents Orpheus charming the creation, and we there behold the Dodo spell-bound with his other mute companions. All the ordinary creatures there shown are depicted with the greatest truthfulness; and why should the artist, delighting, as he seems to have done, in tracing the most delicate features of familiar nature, have marred the beautiful consistency of his design by introducing a feigned, or even an exaggerated representation? We may here adduce the invaluable evidence of Professor Owen.

"While at the Hague, in the summer of 1838, I was much struck with the minuteness and accuracy with which the exotic species of animals had been painted by Savery and Breughel, in such subjects as Orpheus charming the Beasts, &c., in which scope was allowed for grouping together a great variety of animals. Understanding that the celebrated menagerie of Prince Maurice had afforded the living models to these artists, I sat down one day before Savery's Orpheus and the Beasts, to make a list of the species, which the picture sufficiently evinced that the artist had had the opportunity to study alive. Judge of my surprise and pleasure in detecting, in a dark corner of the picture, (which is badly hung between two windows,) theDodo, beautifully finished, showing for example, though but three inches long, the auricular circle of feathers, the scutation of the tarsi, and the loose structure of the caudal plumes. In the number and proportions of the toes, and in general form, it accords with Edwards' oil-painting in the British Museum; and I conclude that the miniature must have been copied from the study of a living bird, which, it is most probable, formed part of the Mauritian menagerie. The bird is standing in profile with a lizard at its feet."—Penny Cyclopædia, xxiii. p. 143.

Mr Strickland, in 1845, made a search through the Royal Gallery of Berlin, which was known to contain several of Savery's pictures. Among them, we are happy to say that he found one representing the Dodo, with numerous other animals, "in Paradise!" It was very conformable with the figure last mentioned; but what renders this, our third portrait, of peculiar interest, is, that it affords a date—the words "Roelandt Savery fe. 1626," being inscribed on one corner. As the artist was born in 1576, he must have been twenty-three years old when Van Neck's expedition returned to Holland; and as we are told by De Bry, in reference to the Mauritius, that "aliæ ibidem aves visæ sunt, quas walkvogel Batavi nominarunt, etunam secum in Hollandiam importarunt," it is quite possible that the portrait of this individual may have been taken at the time, and afterwards recopied, both by himself and his nephew, in their later pictures. Professor Owen leans to the belief that Prince Maurice's collection afforded the living prototype,—an opinion so far strengthened by Edwards's tradition, that the painting in the British Museum was drawn in Holland from a "living bird." Either view is preferable to Dr Hamel's suggestion, that Savery's representation was taken from the Dodo exhibited in London, as that individual was seen alive by Sir Hamon Lestrange in 1638, and must therefore (by no means a likely occurrence) have lived, in the event supposed, at least twelve years in captivity.

Very recently Dr J. J. de Tchudi, the well-known Peruvian traveller, transmitted to Mr Strickland an exact copy of another figure of the Dodo, which forms part of a picture in the imperial collection of the Belvedere at Vienna—by no means a safe location, in these tempestuous times, for the treasures of either art or nature. But we trust that Prince Windischgratz and the hanging committee will now see that all is right, and that General Bem has not been allowed to carry off this drawing of the Dodo in his carpet-bag. It is dated 1628.

"There are two circumstances," says Mr Strickland, "which give an especial interest to this painting. First, the novelty of attitude in the Dodo, exhibiting an activity of character which corroborates the supposition that the artist had living model before him, and contrasting strongly with the aspect of passive stolidity in the other pictures. And, secondly, the Dodo is represented as watching, apparently with hungry looks, the merry wriggling of an eel in the water! Are we hence to infer that theDodo fed upon eels? The advocates of the Raptorial affinities of the Dodo, of whom we shall soon speak, will doubtless reply in the affirmative; but, as I hope shortly to demonstrate that it belongs to a family of birds all the other members of which are frugivorous, I can only regard the introduction of the eel as a pictorial license. In this, as in all his other paintings, Savery brought into juxtaposition animals from all countries, without regarding geographical distribution. His delineations of birds and beasts were wonderfully exact, but his knowledge of natural history probably went no further; and although the Dodo is certainlylooking atthe eel, yet we have no proof that he is going toeatit. The mere collocation of animals in an artistic composition, cannot be accepted as evidence against the positive truths revealed by comparative anatomy."—(P. 30.)

The fifth and last old painting of the Dodo, is that now in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, and presented to it by Mr Darby in 1813. Nothing is known of its previous history. It is the work of John Savery, the nephew of Roland, and is dated 1651. Its most peculiar character is the colossal scale on which it has been designed,—the Dodo of this canvass standing about three feet and a half in height.

"It is difficult," observes our author, "to assign a motive to the artist for thus magnifying an object already sufficiently uncouth in appearance. Were it not for the discrepancy of dates, I should have conjectured that this was the identical "picture of a strange fowle hong out upon a cloth," which attracted the notice of Sir Hamon Lestrange and his friends, as they "walked London streets" in 1638; the delineations used by showmen being in general more remarkable for attractiveness than veracity."—(P. 31.)

We have now exhibited the leading facts which establish both the existence and extinction of this extraordinary bird: the existence, proved by the recorded testimony of the earlier navigators, the few but peculiar portions of structure which still remain among us, and thevera effigieshanded down by artists coeval with the period in which the Dodo lived: the non-existence, deduced from the general progress of events, and the absence of all knowledge of the species since the close of the seventeenth century, although the natural productions of the Mauritius are, in other respects, much better known to us now than then. Why any particular creature should have been so formed as to be unable to resist the progress ofhumanity, and should in consequence have died, it is not for us to say. "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy;" and of this we may feel assured, that if, as we doubt not, the Dodo is extinct, then it has served its end, whatever that might be.

There is nothing imperfect in the productions of nature, although there are many organisms in which certain forms and faculties are less developed than in others. There are certainly, in particular groups, such things as rudimentary organs, which belong, as it were, not so much to the individual species, as to the general system which prevails in the larger and more comprehensive class to which such species belong; and in the majority of which these organs fulfil a frequent and obvious function, and so are very properly regarded as indispensable to the wellbeing of such as use them. But there are many examples in animal life which indicate that particular parts of structure remain, in certain species, for ever in an undeveloped state. In respect to teeth, for instance, the Greenland whale may be regarded as apermanent suckling; for that huge creature having no occasion for these organs, they never pierce the gums, although in early life they are distinctly traceable in the dental groove of the jaws. So the Dodo was a kind ofpermanent nestling, covered with down instead of feathers, and with wings and tail (the oars and rudder of all aërial voyagers) so short and feeble as to be altogether inefficient for the purposes of flight. Why should such things be? We cannot say. Can any one say why they should not be? The question is both wide and deep, and they are most likely to plunge into it who can neither dive nor swim. We agree with Mr Strickland, that these apparently anomalous facts are, in reality, indications of laws which the great Creator has been pleased to form and follow in the construction of organisedbeings,—inscriptions in an unknown hieroglyphic, which we may rest assured must have a meaning, but of which we have as yet scarcely learned the alphabet. "There appear, however, reasonable grounds for believing that the Creator has assigned to each class of animals a definite type or structure, from which He has never departed, even in the most exceptional or eccentric modifications of form."

As to the true position of the Dodo in systematic ornithology, various opinions have been emitted by various men. The majority seem to have placed it in the great Rasorial or Gallinaceous order, as a component part of the familyStruthionidæ, or ostrich tribe.

"The bird in question," says Mr Vigors, "from every account which we have of its economy, and from the appearance of its head and foot, is decidedly gallinaceous; and, from the insufficiency of its wings for the purposes of flight, it may with equal certainty be pronounced to be of theStruthiousstructure. But the foot has a strong hind-toe, and, with the exception of its being more robust, in which character it still adheres to the Struthionidæ, it corresponds to the Linnæan genusCrax, that commences the succeeding family. The bird thus becomes osculant, and forms a strong point of junction between those two contiguous groups."—Linn. Trans.xiv. 484.

M. de Blainville (inNouv. Ann. du Mus.iv. 24,) contests this opinion by various arguments, which we cannot here report, and concludes that the Dodo is a raptorial bird, allied to the vultures. Mr Broderip, in his article before referred to, sums up the discussion as follows:—

"If the picture in the British Museum, and the cut in Bontius, be faithful representations of a creature then living, to make such a bird of prey—a vulture, in the ordinary acceptation of the term—would be to set all the usual laws of adaptation at defiance. A vulture without wings! How was it to be fed? And not only without wings, but necessarily slow and heavy in progression on its clumsy feet. TheVulturidæare, as we know, among the most active agents for removing the decomposing animal remains in tropical and inter-tropical climates, and they are provided with a prodigal development of wing, to waft them speedily to the spot tainted by the corrupt incumbrance. But no such powers of wing would be required by a bird appointed to clear away the decaying and decomposing masses of a luxuriant tropical vegetation—a kind of vulture for vegetable impurities, so to speak—and such an office would not be by any means inconsistent with comparative slowness of pedestrian motion."

Professor Owen, doubtless one of our greatest authorities, inclines towards an affinity with the vultures, and considers the Dodo as an extremely modified form of the raptorial order.

"Devoid of the power of flight, it could have had small chance of obtaining food by preying upon the members of its own class; and, if it did not exclusively subsist on dead and decaying organised matter, it most probably restricted its attacks to the class of reptiles, and to the littoral fishes,Crustacea, &c., which its well-developed back-toe and claw would enable it to seize, and hold with a firm gripe."—Transactions of the Zoological Society, iii. p. 331.

We confess that, setting aside various other unconformable features in the structure of the Dodo, the fact, testified by various authorities, of its swallowing stones, and having stones in its gizzard, for the mechanical triturition of its food, (a peculiarity unknown among the raptorial order,) is sufficient to bar the above view, supported though it be by the opinion of our most distinguished living anatomist.

In a recent memoir by Professor J. F. Brandt (of which an abstract is given in theBulletin de la Class. Phys. de l'Acad. Imp. de St Petersburg, vol. viii. No. 3) we have the following statement:—

"The Dodo, a bird provided with divided toes and cursorial feet, is best classed in the order of the Waders, among which it appears, from its many peculiarities, (most of which, however, are quite referable to forms in this order,) to be an anomalous link connecting several groups,—a link which, for the reasons above given, inclines towards the ostriches, and especially also towards the pigeons."

We doubt the direct affinity to any species of the grallatorial order, an order which contains the cursorial or swift-running birds, very dissimilar in their prevailing habits to anything we know of the sluggish and sedentaryDodo. Professor Brandt may be regarded as having mistaken analogy for affinity; and, in Mr Strickland's opinion, he has in this instance wandered from the true method of investigation, in his anxiety to discover a link connecting dissevered groups.

What then is, or rather was, the Dodo? The majority of inquirers have no doubt been influenced, though unconsciously, by its colossal size, and have consequently sought its actual analogies only among such huge species as the ostrich, the vulture, and the albatross. But the range in each order is often enormous, as, for example, between theFalco cærulescens, or finch falcon of Bengal, an accipitrine bird not bigger than a sparrow, and an eagle of the largest size; or between the swallow-like stormy petrel and the gigantic pelican of the wilderness. It appears that Professor J. T. Rheinhardt of Copenhagen, who rediscovered the cranium of the Gottorf Museum, was the first to indicate the direct relationship of the Dodo to thepigeons. He has recently been engaged in a voyage round the world, but it is known that, before he left Copenhagen in 1845, he had called the attention of his correspondents, both in Sweden and Denmark, to "the striking affinity which exists between this extinct bird and the pigeons, especially the Trerons." The Columbine view is that taken up, and so admirably illustrated, by Mr Strickland, the most recent as well as the best biographer of the Dodo. He refers to the great strength and curvature of bill exhibited by several groups of the tropical fruit-eating pigeons, and adds:

"If we now regard the Dodo as an extreme modification, not of the vultures, but of those vulture-like frugivorous pigeons, we shall, I think, class it in a group whose characters are far more consistent with what we know of its structure and habits. There is noa priorireason why a pigeon should not be so modified, in conformity with external circumstances, as to be incapable of flight, just as we see a grallatorial bird modified into an ostrich, and a diver into a penguin. Now we are told that Mauritius, an island forty miles in length, and about one hundred miles from the nearest land, was, when discovered, clothed with dense forests of palms and various other trees. A bird adapted to feed on the fruits produced by these forests would, in that equable climate, have no occasion to migrate to distant lands; it would revel in the perpetual luxuries of tropical vegetation, and would have but little need of locomotion. Why then should it have the means of flying? Such a bird might wander from tree to tree, tearing with its powerful beak the fruits which strewed the ground, and digesting their stony kernels with its powerful gizzard, enjoying tranquillity and abundance, until the arrival of man destroyed the balance of animal life, and put a term to its existence. Such, in my opinion, was the Dodo,—a colossal, brevipennate, frugivorous pigeon."—(P. 40.)

For the various osteological and other details by which the Columbine character of the Dodo is maintained, and as we think established, we must refer our readers to Mr Strickland's volume,[22]where those parts of the subject are very skilfully worked out by his able coadjutor, Dr Melville.

We shall now proceed to notice certain other extinct species which form the dead relations of the Dodo, just as the pigeons continue to represent the tribe from which they have departed. The island Rodriguez, placed about three hundred miles eastward of the Mauritius, though not more than fifteen miles long by six broad, possessed in modern times a peculiar bird, also without effective wings, and in several other respects resembling the Dodo. It was namedSolitaireby the early voyagers, and forms the speciesDidus solitariusof systematic writers. The small island in question seems to have remained in a desert and unpeopled state until 1691, when a party of French Protestant refugees settled upon it, and remained for a couple of years. The Solitaire is thus described by their commander, Francois Leguat, who (in hisVoyage et Avantures, 1708) has given us an interesting account bothof his own doings in general, and of this species in particular.

"Of all the birds in the island, the most remarkable is that which goes by the name of theSolitary, because it is very seldom seen in company, though there are abundance of them. The feathers of the male are of a brown-gray colour, the feet and beak are like a turkey's, but a little more crooked. They have scarce any tail, but their hind part, covered with feathers, is roundish like the crupper of a horse: they are taller than turkeys; their neck is straight, and a little longer in proportion than a turkey's, when it lifts up its head. Its eye is black and lively, and its head without comb or cap. They never fly; their wings are too little to support the weight of their bodies; they serve only to beat themselves, and to flutter when they call one another. They will whirl about for twenty or thirty times together on the same side, during the space of four or five minutes. The motion of their wings makes then a noise very much like that of a rattle, and one may hear it two hundred paces off. The bone of their wing grows greater towards the extremity, and forms a little round mass under the feathers, as big as a musket-ball. That and its beak are the chief defence of this bird. 'Tis very hard to catch it in the woods, but easier in open places, because we run faster than they, and sometimes we approach them without much trouble. From March to September they are extremely fat, and taste admirably well, especially while they are young; some of the males weigh forty-five pounds."The females" continues our enamoured author, "are wonderfully beautiful, some fair, some brown,—I call them fair, because they are of the colour of fair hair. They have a sort of peak like a widow's upon their beak, which is of a dun colour. No one feather is straggling from the other all over their bodies, they being very careful to adjust themselves, and make them all even with their beaks. The feathers on their thighs are round like shells at the end, and, being there very thick, have an agreeable effect. They have two risings on their crops, and the feathers are whiter there than the rest, which lively represents the fair neck of a beautiful woman. They walk with so much stateliness and good grace, that one cannot help admiring and loving them; by which means their fine mien often saves their lives. Though these birds will sometimes very familiarly come up near enough to one, when we do not run after them, yet they will never grow tame. As soon as they are caught they shed tears without crying, and refuse all manner of meat till they die."—(P. 71.)

"The females" continues our enamoured author, "are wonderfully beautiful, some fair, some brown,—I call them fair, because they are of the colour of fair hair. They have a sort of peak like a widow's upon their beak, which is of a dun colour. No one feather is straggling from the other all over their bodies, they being very careful to adjust themselves, and make them all even with their beaks. The feathers on their thighs are round like shells at the end, and, being there very thick, have an agreeable effect. They have two risings on their crops, and the feathers are whiter there than the rest, which lively represents the fair neck of a beautiful woman. They walk with so much stateliness and good grace, that one cannot help admiring and loving them; by which means their fine mien often saves their lives. Though these birds will sometimes very familiarly come up near enough to one, when we do not run after them, yet they will never grow tame. As soon as they are caught they shed tears without crying, and refuse all manner of meat till they die."—(P. 71.)

Their natural food is the fruit of a species of plantain. When these birds are about to build, they select a clean place, and then gather together a quantity of palm-leaves, which they heap up about a foot and a half high, and there they sit. They never lay but one egg, which greatly exceeds that of a goose. Some days after the young one has left the nest, a company of thirty or forty grown-up birds brings another young one to it; and the new-fledged bird, with its father and mother, joining with the band, they all march away to some by-place.

"We frequently followed them," says Leguat, "and found that afterwards the old ones went each their way alone, or in couples, and left the two young ones together, and this we called amarriage. This particularity has something in it which looks a little fabulous; nevertheless what I say is sincere truth, and what I have more than once observed with care and pleasure."

Leguat gives a figure of this singular bird, which in his plate has somewhat of the air and aspect of a Christmas goose, although, of course, it wants the web-feet. Its neck and legs are proportionally longer than those parts of the Dodo, and give it more of astruthiousappearance: but the existing osteological evidence is sufficient to show that it was closely allied to that bird, and shared with it in some peculiar affinities to the pigeon tribe. It is curious that, although Rodriguez is a British settlement, we have scarcely any information regarding it beyond what is to be found in the work last quoted, and all that we have since learned of the Solitary is that it has become extinct. Of late years Mr Telfair made inquiries of one of the colonists, who assured him that no such bird now existed on the island; and the same negative result was obtained by Mr Higgins, a Liverpool gentleman, who, after suffering shipwreck on Rodriguez, resided there for a couple of months. As far back as 1789, some bones incrusted by a stalagmite, and erroneously supposed to belong to the Dodo, were found in a cave in Rodriguez by a M. Labistour. They afterwardsfound their way to Paris, where they may still be seen. We are informed (Proceedings of the Zoological Society, Part I. p. 31) that Col. Dawkins recently visited these caverns, and dug without finding any thing but a small bone. But M. Eudes succeeded in disinterring various bones, among others those of a large species of bird no longer found alive upon the island. He adds that the Dutch, who first landed at Rodriguez, left cats there to destroy the rats, which annoyed them. These cats are now so numerous as to prove very destructive to the poultry, and he thinks it probable that these feline wanderers may have extirpated the bird in question, by devouring the young ones as soon as they were hatched,—a destruction which may have been effected even before the island became inhabited by the human race. Be that as it may, Mr Telfair sent collections of the bones to this country, one of which may be seen in the museum of the Andersonian Institution, Glasgow. Mr Strickland mourns over the loss or disappearance of those transmitted to the Zoological Society of London. We have been informed within these few days that, like the head of the Danish Dodo, they have been rediscovered, lying in a stable or other outhouse, in the vicinity of the museum of that Society. Both the Glasgow specimens, and those in Paris, have been carefully examined and compared by Mr Strickland, and their Columbine characters are minutely described by his skilful and accurate coadjutor, Dr Melville, in the second portion of his work. Mr S. very properly regards certain peculiarities, alluded to by Leguat, such as the feeding on dates or plantains, as confirmatory of his view of the natural affinities already mentioned.

So much for the Solitaire of Rodriguez and its affinities.[23]A singular fact, however, remains to be yet attended to in this insular group. The volcanic island of Bourbon seems also to have containedbrevi-pennatebirds, whose inability to fly has likewise led to their extinction. This island, which lies about a hundred miles south-west of Mauritius, was discovered contemporaneously by Pedro de Mascaregnas, in the sixteenth century. The earliest notice which concerns our present inquiry, is by Captain Castleton, who visited Bourbon in 1613. In the narrative, as given by Purchas, we read as follows:—

"There is store of land-fowl, both small and great, plentie of doves, great parrats, and suchlike, and a great fowl of the bignesse of a turkie, very fat, and so short-winged that they cannot flie, beeing white, and in a manner tame; and so are all other fowles, as having not been troubled nor feared with shot. Our men did beat them down with sticks and stones."—(Ed. 1625, vol. i. p. 331.)

Bontekoe van Hoorn, a Dutch voyager, spent twenty-one days in Bourbon in 1618, and found the island to abound in pigeons, parrots, and other species, among which "there were alsoDod-eersen, which have small wings; and so far from being able to fly, they were so fat that they could scarcely walk, and when they tried to run, they dragged their under side along the ground." There is no reason to suppose that these birds were actual Dodos, of the existence of which in Bourbon there is not the slightest proof. That Bontekoe's account was compiled from recollection rather than from any journal written at the time, is almost certain from this tragical fact, that his ship was afterwards blown up, and he himself wasthe sole survivor. There is no likelihood that he preserved his papers any more than his portmanteau, and he no doubt wrote from remembrance of a largebrevipennatebird, whose indolent and unfearing tameness rendered it an easy prey. Knowing that a bird of a somewhat similar nature inhabited the neighbouring island, he took it for the same, and called it Dodo, by a corresponding term.

A Frenchman of the name of Carré visited Bourbon in 1668, and in hisVoyages des Indes Orientales, he states as follows:—

"I have seen a kind of bird which I have not found elsewhere; it is that which the inhabitants call theoiseau solitaire, for in fact it loves solitude, and only frequents the most secluded places. One never sees two or more of them together, they are always alone. It is not unlike a turkey, were it not that its legs are longer. The beauty of its plumage is delightful to behold. The flesh is exquisite; it forms one of the best dishes in this country, and might form a dainty at our tables. We wished to keep two of these birds to send to France and present them to his Majesty, but, as soon as they were on board ship, they died of melancholy, having refused to eat or drink."—(Vol. i. p. 12.)

Almost immediately after M. Carré's visit, a French colony was sent from Madagascar to Bourbon, under the superintendence of M. de la Haye. A certain Sieur D. B. (for this is all that is known of his name or designation) was one of the party, and has left a narrative of the expedition in an unpublished journal, acquired by Mr Telfair, and presented by him to the Zoological Society of London. Besides confirming the accounts given by preceding writers, this unknown author affords a conclusive proof that a second species of the same group inhabited the Island of Bourbon. We are indebted to Mr Strickland for the original passages and the following translation:—

1. "Solitaires.—These birds are so called because they always go alone. They are the size of a large goose, and are white, with the tips of the wings and the tail black. The tail-feathers resemble those of an ostrich; the neck is long, and the beak is like that of a woodcock, but larger; the legs and feet like those of turkeys."2. "Oiseaux bleus, the size ofSolitaires, have the plumage wholly blue, the beak and feet red, resembling the feet of a hen. They do not fly, but they run extremely fast, so that a dog can hardly overtake them; they are very good eating."

2. "Oiseaux bleus, the size ofSolitaires, have the plumage wholly blue, the beak and feet red, resembling the feet of a hen. They do not fly, but they run extremely fast, so that a dog can hardly overtake them; they are very good eating."

There is proof that one or other of these singular and now unknown birds existed in Bourbon, at least till toward the middle of the last century. M. Billiard, who resided there between 1817 and 1820, states (in hisVoyages aux Colonies Orientales) that, at the time of the first colonisation of the island, "the woods were filled with birds which were not alarmed at the approach of man. Among them was theDodoorSolitaire, which was pursued on foot: they were still to be seen in the time of M. de la Bourdonnaye, who sent a specimen, as a curiosity, to one of the directors of the company." As the gentleman last named was governor of the Isles of France and Bourbon from 1735 to 1746, these birds, Mr Strickland observes,musthave survived to the former, andmayhave continued to the latter date at least. But when M. Bory St Vincent made a careful survey of the island in 1801, no such species were to be found. The description of the bill and plumage shows that they were not genuine Dodos, but merely entitled to be classed among their kindred. Not a vestige of their remains is in the hands of naturalists, either in this or any other country.

We have now finished, under Mr Strickland's guidance, our exposition of this curious group. The restriction, at any time, of such large birds to islands of so small a size, is certainly singular. We cannot, however, say what peculiar and unknown geological changes these islands may have undergone, by which their extent has been diminished, or their inter-connexion destroyed. Volcanic groups, such as those in question, are no doubt generally of less ancient origin than most others; but it is by no means unlikely that these islands of Rodriguez, Bourbon, and Mauritius, may once have formed a united group, or much more expanded mass of terra firma than they now exhibit; and that, by their partial submergenceand separation, the dominions of the Dodo and its kindred have, like those of many other heavy chieftains of high degree, been greatly diminished and laid low. But into this question of ancient boundaries we cannot now enter.

How pleasant, on some resplendent summer evening, in such a delicious clime as that of the Mauritius, the sun slowly sinking amid a gorgeous blaze of light, and gilding in green and gold the spreading summits of the towering palms,—the murmuring sea sending its refreshing vesper-breathings through all the "pillared shades" which stretch along that glittering shore,—how pleasant, we say, for wearied man to sit in leafy umbrage, and sup on Dodos and their kindred! Alas! we shall never see such days again.

Dr Hamel, as native of a northern country, is fond of animal food, and has his senses, naturally sharp enough, so whetted thereby, that he becomes "sagacious of hisquarryfrom afar." He judiciously observes, in his recent memoir, (Der Dodo, &c.,) that in Leguat's map the place is accurately indicated where the common kitchen of the settlers stood, and where the great tree grew under which they used to sit, on a bench, to take their meals. Both tree and bench are marked upon the map. "At these two spots," says Dr Hamel, "it is probable that the bones of a complete skeleton of Leguat's solitaire might be collected; those of the head and feet on the site of the kitchen, and the sternum and other bones on that of the tree."

"I feel confident," says Mr Strickland, "that if active naturalists would make a series of excavations in the alluvial deposits, in the beds of streams, and amid the ruins of old institutions in Mauritius, Bourbon, and Rodriguez, he would speedily discover the remains of the dodo, the two 'solitaires,' or the 'oiseau bleu.' But I would especially direct attention to the caves with which these volcanic islands abound. The chief agents in the destruction of the brevipennate birds were probably the runaway negroes, who for many years infested the primeval forests of these islands, and inhabited the caverns, where they would doubtless leave the scattered bones of the animals on which they fed. Here, then, may we more especially hope to find the osseous remains of these remarkable animals."—(P. 61.)

Any old directory of the latter half of the last century will still show, to the curious in such matters, the address of Messrs. Hope and Bullion, merchants and general dealers at No. 4, in a certain high and narrow street in the city of London. Not that this, in itself, is a very valuable part of history; but to those who look up at the dirty windows of the house as it now stands, and compare the narrow pavement and cit-like appearance of the whole locality with the splendours of Oxford Square or Stanhope Place, where the business occupant of the premises has now his residence, it will be a subject of doubt, if not of unbelief, that Mr Bullion—who dwelt in the upper portions of the building—was as happy, and nearly as proud, as his successor at the present time. Yet so it is; and, without making invidious comparisons with the distinguished-looking lady who does the honours of the mansion in Oxford Square—her father was a sugar baker, and lived in a magnificent country house at Mussel hill. I will venture to state, that Mr Bullion had great reason to be satisfied with the manners and appearance of the young person who presided at his festive board. Such a rich laugh, and such a sweet voice, were heard in no other house in the town. And as to her face and figure, the only dispute among painters and sculptors was, whether the ever-varying expression of her features did not constitute her the true property of the Reynoldses and Romneys,—or the ever-exquisite moulding of her shape did not bring her within the province of the severer art. At the same time it must be confessed, that the subject of these disputes took no interest either in brush or chisel. A bright, happy, clever creature—butno judge of sciences and arts—was Louise Bullion. Books she had read a few, and music she had studied a little; yet, with her slender knowledge of the circulating library, she talked more pleasantly than Madame de Staël, and sang so sweetly, so naturally, and so truly, that Mrs Billington was a fool to her. She was a parlour Jenny Lind. But Mrs Billington was not the only person who was a fool to her. Oh no!—that sort of insanity was epidemic, and seized on all that came near her. Even Mr Cocker the book-keeper—a little man of upwards of fifty, who was so simple, and knew so little of anything but arithmetic, that he always considered himself, and was considered by the people, a boy just getting on in his teens—even Mr Cocker was a fool to her too. For when he was invited to tea, and had his cups sweetened by her hand, and his whole heart turned, by some of her pathetic ballads, into something so soft and oily that it must have been just like one of the muffins she laid on his plate, he used to go away with a very confused idea of cube roots, and get into the most extraordinary puzzles in the rule of three. Miss Louise, he said, would never go out of his head; whereas she had never once got into it, having established her quarters very comfortably in another place a little lower down, just inside of the brass buttons on his left breast; and yet the poor old fellow went down to his grave without the remotest suspicion that he had ever been in love. The people used to say that his perplexities, on those occasions, were principally remarkable after supper—for an invitation to tea, in those hospitable times, included an afterpiece in the shape of some roaring hot dishes, and various bowls of a stout and jovial beverage, whose place, I beg to say, is poorly supplied by any conceivable quantity of negus and jellies! Yes, the people used to say that Cocker's difficulties in calculation arose from other causes than his admiration of Miss Louise and her songs; but this was a calumny—and, in fact, any few extra glasses he took were for the express purpose of clearing his head, after it had got bewildered by her smiles and music; and therefore how could they possibly be the cause of his bewilderment? I repeat that Mr Cocker was afflicted by the universal disease, and would have died with the greatest happiness to give her a moment's satisfaction. And so would all the clerks, except one, who was very short-sighted and remarkably deaf, and who was afterwards tried on suspicion of having poisoned his wife; and so would her aunt, Miss Lucretia Smith, though her kindness was so wonderfully disguised that the whole world would have been justified in considering it harshness and ill-nature. It was only her way of bestowing it—as if you were to pour out sugar from a vinegar cruet; and a good old, fussy, scolding, grumbling, advising, tormenting, and very loving lady was Miss Lucretia Smith—very loving, I say, not only of her niece, and her brother-in-law, but of anybody that would agree to be loved. Traditions existed that, in her youth, she had been a tremendous creature for enthusiasms and romances; that she had flirted with all the officers of the city militia, from the colonel downwards, and with all the Lord Mayors' chaplains for an infinite series of years; and that, though nothing came of all her praiseworthy efforts, time had had a strengthening instead of a weakening effect on all these passages—till now, in her fifty-third year, she actually believed she had been in love with them all, and on the point of marriage with more than half.

And this constituted the whole of Mr Bullion's establishment—at least all his establishment which was regularly on the books; but there was a young man so constantly in the house—so much at home there—so welcome when he came, so wondered at when he staid away—in short, so much one of the family, that I will only say, if he was not considered a member of it, he ought to have been. For what, I pray you, constitutes membership, if intimacy, kindness, perpetual presence, and filial and fraternal affection—filial to the old man, fraternal to the young lady—do not constitute it? You might have sworn till doomsday, but Mr Cecil Hope would never have believed that his home was anywhere but at No. 4. Nay, when, by some accident, he found himself for a day in a very pretty, very tasteful, and veryspacious house he had in Hertfordshire, with a ring-fence of fourteen hundred acres round it, he felt quite disconsolate, and as if he were in a strange place. The estate had been bought, the house had been built—as the money had been acquired, by his father, who was no less a person than the senior partner in the firm of Hope and Bullion, but had withdrawn his capital from the trade, laid it out in land, superintended the erection of his mansion, pined for his mercantile activities, and died in three years of having nothing to do. So Cecil was rich and unencumbered; he was also as handsome as the Apollo, who, they say, would be a very vulgar-looking fellow if he dressed like a Christian; and he (not the Apollo, but Cecil Hope) was four-and-twenty years of age, five feet eleven in height, and as pleasant a fellow as it is possible to conceive. So you may guess whether or not he was in love with Louise. Of course he was,—haven't I said he was a young man of some sense, and for whom I have a regard? He adored her. And now you will, perhaps, be asking if the admiration was returned—and that is one of the occasions on which an impertinent reader has a great advantage over the best and cunningest of authors. They can ask such impudent questions,—which they would not dare to do unless under the protection and in the sanctuary, as it were, of print, and look so amazingly knowing while pausing for a reply, that I have no patience with the fellows at all; and, in answer to their demand whether Louise returned the love of Cecil Hope, I will only say this—I will see them hanged first, before I gratify their curiosity. Indeed, how could I hold up my head in any decent society again, if I were to commit such a breach of confidence as that? Imagine me confessing that she looked always fifty times happier in his presence than when he was away—imagine me confessing that her heart beat many thumps quicker when anybody mentioned his name—imagine me, I say, confessing all this, and fifty things more, and then calling myself a man of honour and discretion! No: I say again I will see the reader hanged first, before I will answer his insolent question; so let that be an understood thing between us, that I will never reveal any secret with which a young lady is kind enough to intrust me.

And this, I think, is a catalogue of all the household above the good old warehouse. Ah! no,—there is the excellent Mr Bullion himself. He is now sixty; he has white hair, a noble, even adistinguéfigure: look into any page of any fashionable novel of any year, for an explanation of what that means. On the present occasion, you would perhaps conclude that the long-backed, wide-tailed blue coat, the low-flapped waistcoat, tight-fitting knee-br—ch—s, white cotton stockings in-doors, long gaiters out, with bright-buckled square-toed shoes, may be a little inconsistent with the epithetdistingué. But this is a vulgar error, and would argue that nobody could lookdistinguéwithout lace and brocade. Now, only imagine Mr Bullion in a court-dress, with a silk bag floating over his shoulder, to tie up long tresses which have disappeared from his head for many years; a diamond-hilted rapier that probably has no blade, and all the other portions of that graceful and easy style of habiliment,—dress him in this way, and look at him bowing gracefully by means of his three-cornered hat, and you will surely grant he would be adistinguéfigure then,—and why not in his blue coat and smalls?

Butdistingué-looking men, even in court-dresses, may be great rascals, and even considerable fools. Then was Mr Bullion a rascal?—no. A fool?—no. In short, he was one of the best of men, and could have been recognised during his life, if any one had described him in the words of his epitaph.

Well,—we must get on. Day after day, for several months before the date we have got to, a sort of mystery seemed to grow deeper and deeper on the benevolent features of the father of Louise. Something—nobody could tell what—had lifted him out of his ordinary self. He dropt dark hints of some great change that was shortly to take place in the position of the family: he even took many opportunities of lecturing Cecil Hope on the miseries of ill-assorted marriages,particularly where the lady was of a family immeasurably superior to the man's. Miss Smith thought he was going to be made Lord Mayor; Cecil Hope supposed he was about to be appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer; and Louise thought he was growing silly, and took no notice of all the airs he put on, and the depreciatory observations he made on the rank of a country squire. As to Mr Cocker, he was already fully persuaded that his master was the greatest man in the world, and, if he had started for king, would have voted him to the throne without a moment's hesitation. At last the origin of all these proceedings on the part of Mr Bullion began to be suspected. A little dark man, with the brightest possible eyes, shrouded in a great cloak, with a broad-brimmed hat carefully drawn over his brows, and just showing to the affrighted maid who opened the door the aforesaid eyes, fixed on her with such an expression of inquiry that they fully supplied the difficulty he experienced in asking for Mr Bullion in words,—for he was a foreigner, not much gifted with the graces of English pronunciation. This little dark and inquisitive man came to the house two or three times a-week, and spent several hours in close consultation with Mr Bullion. On emerging from these councils, it was easy to see, by that gentleman's countenance, whether the affair, whatever it was, was in a prosperous condition or not. Sometimes he came into the supper-room gloomy and silent, sometimes tripping in like a sexagenarian Taglioni, and humming a French song,—for his knowledge of that language was extraordinary,—and his whole idea of a daughter's education seemed to be, to make her acquire the true Parisian accent, and to read Molière and Corneille. So Louise, to gratify the whim of her father, had made herself perfect in the language, and could have entered into a correspondence with Madame de Sevigné without a single false concord, or a mistake in spelling. Who could this little man be, who had such influence on her father's spirits? They watched him, but could see nothing but the dark cloak and slouched hat, which disappeared down some side street, and would have puzzled one of the detective police to keep them in view. Her thoughts rested almost constantly on this subject. Even at church—for they were regular church-goers, and very decided Protestants, as far as their religious feelings could be shown in hating the devil and the Pope—she used to watch her father's face, but could read nothing there but a quiet devotion during the prayers, and an amiable condescension while listening to the sermon. Rustlings of papers as the little visitor slipt along the passage, revealed the fact that there were various documents required in their consultations; and on one particular occasion, after an interview of unusual duration, Mr Bullion accompanied his mysterious guest to the door, and was overheard, by the conclave who were assembled in the little parlour for supper, very warm in his protestations of obligation for the trouble he had taken, and concluding with these remarkable words—"Assure his Excellency of my highest consideration, and that I shall not lose a moment in throwing myself at the feet of the King." Louise looked at Cecil on hearing these words; and as Cecil would probably have been looking at Louise, whether he had heard these words or not, their eyes met with an expression of great bewilderment and surprise,—the said bewilderment being by no means diminished when his visitor replied—"His Excellency kisses your hands, and I leave your Lordship in the holy keeping of the saints."

"Papa is rather flighty—don't you think so, Cecil?" said Louise.

"Both mad," answered that gentleman with a shake of the head.

"Mr Bullion is going to be Lord Mayor," said Miss Lucretia, with a vivid remembrance of the flirtations and grandeurs of the Mansion-house.

Mr Cocker said nothing aloud, and was sorely puzzled for a long time, but ended with a confused notion, derived principally from the protection of the saints, that his patron was likely to be Pope. All, however, sank into a gaping silence of anticipation, when Mr Bullion, after shutting the door, as soon as his visitor had departed, began to whistle Malbrook, and came into the supper-room.

"Enjoy yourselves,mes enfants," said the old gentleman; "I have not kept you waiting, I hope. Miss Smith, I kiss your hand—ma fille, embrassemoi."

"What's the matter with you, papa?" replied the young lady, and not complying with the request; "you speak as if you were a foreigner. Have you forgotten your mother-tongue?"

And certainly it was not difficult to perceive that there was an unusual tone assumed by Mr Bullion, with the slightest possible broken English admitted into his language.

"My mother-tongue?" said the senior. "Bah! 'tis not the time yet—I have not forgot it—not quite—but kiss me, Louise."

"Well, since you speak like a Christian, I won't refuse; but do be a good, kind, communicative old man, and tell us what has kept you so long. Do tell us who that hideous man is."

"Hideous, my dear!—'tis plain you never saw him."

"He's like the bravo of Venice," said Louise; "isn't he, Cecil?"

"He's more like Guy Faux," said the gentleman appealed to.

"He's like a gipsy fortune-teller," continued Miss Smith.

"Uncommon like a 'ousebreaker," chimed in Mr Cocker: "I never see such a rascally-looking countenance."

"Are you aware, all this time, that you are giving these descriptions of a friend of mine,—a most learned, lofty, reverend—but, pshaw! what nonsense it is, getting angry with folks like you. Eagles should fight with eagles."

But the lofty assumptions of Mr Bullion made no impression on his audience. One word, however, had stuck in the tympanum of Miss Smith's ear, and was beating a tremendous tattoo in her heart—

"Reverend, did you say, brother-in-law. If that little man is reverend, mark my words. I know very well what he's after. If we're not all spirited off to the Disquisition in Spain, I wish I may never be marr—I mean—saved."

"Nonsense, aunt," said Louise. "You're not going to turn Dissenter, father?"

"Better that than be a Papist, anyhow," sulked out Lucretia.

"Miss Smith," said Mr Bullion, "have the kindness, madam, to make no observation on what I do, or what friends I visit or receive in this house. If the gentleman who has now left me were a Mahommedan, he should be sacred from your impertinent remarks. Give me another potato, and hold your tongue."

"To you, Mr Hope," continued the senior, "and to you, Mr Cocker, and to you, Miss Lucretia, who are unmixed plebeians from your remotest known ancestry, it may appear surprising that a man so willingly undertakes the onerous duties entailed on him by his lofty extraction, as to surrender the peace and contentment which he feels to be the fitter accompaniments of your humble yet comfortable position. For my daughter and me far other things are in store—we sit on the mountain-top exposed to the tempest, though glorified by the sunshine, and look without regret to the contemptible safety and inglorious ease of the inhabitants of the vale. Take a glass of wine, Mr Cocker. I shall always look on you with favour."

Mr Cocker took the glass as ordered, and supposed his patron was repeating a passage out of Enfield'sSpeaker. "Fine language, sir, very fine language, indeed! particular that about sunshine on the mountains. A remarkable clever man, Mr Enfield; and I can say Ossian's Address to the Sun myself."

But in the mean time Louisa walked round the table, and laid hold of her father's hand, and putting her finger on his pulse, looked with a face full of wisdom, while she counted the beats; and giving a satisfied shake of the head, resumed her seat.

"A day or two's quiet will do, without a strait waistcoat," she said; "but I will certainly tell the porter never to admit that slouch-faced muffled-up impostor, who puts such nonsense into his head."

But at this moment a violent pull at the bell startled them all. When the door was opened a voice was heard in the hall which said, "Pour uninstant, Monseigneur;" whereupon Mr Bullion started up, and replying, "Oui, mon père," hurried out of the room, and left his party in more blank amazement than before.

The surmises, the exclamations, the whispers and suspicions that passed from one to the other, it is needless to record; it will suffice to say that, after an animated conversation with the mysterious visitor, Mr Bullion once more joined the circle and said, "You will be ready, all of you, to start for France to-morrow. I have business of importance that calls for my presence in Tours. Say not a word, but obey."

So, in a week, they were all comfortably settled in a hotel at Tours.

Mr Bullion was sitting in the parlour, apparently in deep and pleasant contemplation; for the corners of his mouth were involuntarily turned up, and he inspected the calf of his leg with self-satisfied admiration. Mr Cocker was on a chair in the corner, probably multiplying the squares in the table-cover by the flowers in the paper.

"How do you like France, Mr Cocker?" said Mr Bullion.

"Not at all, sir; the folks has no sense; and no wonder we always wallop them by sea or land."

"Hem! Must I remind you, sir, that this ismycountry; that the French are my countrymen; and that you by no means wallop them either by sea or land."

"YouFrench!youFrenchman!" replied Mr Cocker; "thatisa joke! Bullion ain't altogether a French name, I think? No, no; it smells of the bank;itdoes. You ain't one of theparlevous—youain't, that's certain."

"How often have I to order you, sir, not to doubt my word?" said Mr Bullion; and emphacised his speech with a form of expression that is generally considered a clencher.

"There! there!" cried Cocker, triumphant; "I told you so. Is there ever a Frenchman could swear like that? They ain't Christians enough to give such a jolly hearty curse as yourn; so you see, sir, it's no go to pass yourself off for aMounseer."

"Leave the room, sir, and send Mr Hope to me at once!"

Cocker obeyed, puzzled more and more at the fancy his master was possessed with to deny his country.

"It would, perhaps, have been wiser," thought Mr Bullion, "to have left the plebeian fools at home till everything was formally completed; but still, nothing, I suppose, would have satisfied them but the evidence of their own eyes."

"Mr Hope," he said, as that young gentleman entered the room, "sit down beside me; nay, no ceremony, I shall always treat you with condescension and regard."

"You are very good, sir."

"I am, sir; and I trust your conduct will continue such as to justify me in remaining so. You may have observed, Mr Hope, a change in my manner for some time past. You can't have been fool enough, like Miss Smith and Mr Cocker, to doubt the reality of the fact I stated, namely, that I am French by birth,—did you doubt it, sir?"

"Why, sir,—in fact—since you insist on an answer—"

"I see you did. Well, sir, I pity and pardon you. I will tell you the whole tale, and then you will see that some alteration must take place in our respective positions. In the neighbourhood of this good city of Tours I was born. My father was chief of the younger branch of one of the noblest houses in France,—the De Bouillons of Chateau d'Or. He was wild, gay, thoughtless, and fell into disgrace at court. He was imprisoned in the Bastille; his estates confiscated; his name expunged from the book of nobility; and he died poor, forgotten, and blackened in name and fame. I was fifteen at the time. I took my father's sword into the Town Hall; I gave it in solemn charge to the authorities, and vowed that when I had succeeded in wiping off the blot from my father's name, and getting it restored to its former rank, I would reclaim it at their hands, and assumethe state and dignity to which my birth entitled me. I went to England; your father, my good Cecil, took me by the hand: porter, clerk, partner, friend,—I rose through all the gradations of the office; and when he died, he left me the highest trust he could repose in anyone,—the guardianship of his son."

"I know sir,—and if I have never sufficiently thanked you for your care—"

"Not that—no, no—I'm satisfied, my dear boy—and Louise—the Lady Louise I must now call her—change of rank—duties of lofty sphere—former friends—ill arranged engagements—" continued the new-formed magnate in confusion, blurting out unconnected words, that showed the train of his thoughts without expressing them distinctly; while Mr Hope sat in amazement at what he had heard, but no longer doubting the reality of what was said.

"Well, sir?" he inquired.

"I changed my name with my country, though retaining as much of the sound of it as I could; and Louis Bullion was a complete disguise for the expatriated Marquis de Bouillon de Chateau d'Or. I married Miss Smith, and lost her shortly after Louise's birth. For years I have been in treaty with the French ambassador through his almoner, the Abbé, whose visits you thought so mysterious. At last I succeeded, and to-morrow I claim my father's sword, resume the hereditary titles of my house, and take my honoured place among the peers and paladins of France."

"And have you informed Louise?"—inquired Cecil.

"Lady Louise," interrupted Mr Bullion.

"Of this change in her position?"

"Why, my dear Cecil, to tell you truth—it's not an easy matter to get her to understand my meaning. Yesterday I attempted to explain the thing, exactly as I have done to you; but instead of taking it seriously, she began with one of her provoking chuckles, and chucked me under the chin, and called me Marquy-darky. In fact, I wish the explanation to come from you."

"I feel myself very unfit for the task," said the young man, who foresaw that this altered situation might interfere with certain plans of his own. "I hope you will excuse me; you can tell her the whole affair yourself, for here she comes."

And the young lady accordingly made her appearance. After looking at them for some time—

"What are you all so doleful about?" she began. "Has papa bitten you too, Cecil? Pray don't be a duke—it makes people so very ridiculous."

"Miss Louise—mademoiselle, I ought to say," said Mr Bullion, "I have communicated certain facts to Cecil Hope."

"Which he doesn't believe—do you, Cecil?" interposed the daughter.

"He does believe them, and I beg you will believe them too. They are simply, that I am a nobleman of the highest rank, and you are my right honourable daughter."

"Oh, indeed! and how was our cousin Spain when you heard from Madrid?—our uncle Austria, was he quite well?—was George of England recovered of the gout?—and above all, how was uncle Smith, the shipowner of Wapping?"

"Girl! you will drive me mad," replied the Marquis, "with your Smiths and Wappings. I tell you, what I have said is really the case, and to-morrow you will see the inauguration with your own eyes. Meantime, I must dress, to receive a deputation of the nobility of the province, who come to congratulate me on my arrival."

"Oh, what's this I hear," exclaimed Miss Smith, rushing into the room, "are you a real marquis, Mr Bullion?"

"Yes, madam, I have that honour."

"And does the marriage with my sister stand good?"

"To be sure, madam."

"Then, I'm very glad of it. Oh how delightful!—to be my Lord this, my Lady that. I am always devoted to the aristockicy; and now, only to think I am one of them myself."

"How can you be so foolish, aunt?—I'm ashamed of you," said Louise; "what terrible things you were telling me, an hour ago, of the wickedness of the nobility?"

"Miss Smith, though she does notexpress herself in very correct language, has more sensible ideas on this subject than you," said the marquis, looking severely at his daughter, who was looking, from time to time, with a malicious smile at the woe-begone countenance of Cecil Hope. "Remember, madam, who it is you are," continued the senior.

"La, papa! don't talk such nonsense," replied the irreverent daughter. "Do you think I am eighteen years of age, and don't know perfectly well who and what I am?"

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