FOOTNOTES:

"Peasant girls with deep blue eyes,And hands which offer early flowers,Walk smiling o'er this paradise;"

"Peasant girls with deep blue eyes,

And hands which offer early flowers,

Walk smiling o'er this paradise;"

and I felt that the landscape before me transcended even his description. I had, however, the greatest contrast offered to my view so far as regarded eyes, hands, or smiles. Four females approached with flowers, which they desired to sell. They were all old women, and they constituted, in their features and figures, the most complete realization of hideous ugliness. It is not my intention to attempt any description of the scenes which successively astonished and delighted me whilst proceeding up the Rhine from Bonn to Mentz. I would fully adopt the unexaggerated truth contained in four short lines—

"The river nobly foams and flows,The charm of this enchanted ground,And all its thousand turns discloseSome fresher beauties varying round."

"The river nobly foams and flows,

The charm of this enchanted ground,

And all its thousand turns disclose

Some fresher beauties varying round."

I found the steamer extremely convenient and most agreeable, especially for a person debilitated by severe and recent indisposition. I do not recollect the charges for conveyance or refreshments, but I considered them moderate, and relished my repasts greatly, whether as regarded their materials, culinary preparation, or table attendance. The few hotels at which I stopped were very comfortable in every respect. At the Giant Hotel, Coblentz, I observed that the delicious wine, sparkling Moselle, was given for a Rhenish florin and a half, (two shillings and sixpence,) per bottle, and that Guinness's Dublin Porter was precisely the same price there. I have heard some Germans, who understood English, remark on the designation almost universally given to the Rhenish wines by us. The vineyards are nearly all on places considerably elevated, and the names of the wines have generally the prefix of "High." The German word is "Hoch," and they give it a guttural pronunciation which the Irish and Scotch can utter perfectly, but which an Englishman cannot accomplish. He hardens "hoch" into "hock," and adopts the prefix alone as the name of the exhilarating fluid, and we follow his example. The mistake, however, is perfectly harmless, for the abbreviation has not lessened the production, or deteriorated the flavor of the liquor.

At Coblentz, I saw in a square before a church, the name of which I do not remember, a monument with two inscriptions, the first of which I considered indicative of silly and premature pride, whilst the second formed an instance of a complete junction of wit and wisdom. In 1812, when the French had occupied Moscow, the prefect of Coblentz erected the monument and inscribed it thus—

AN. MDCCCXII.Memorable par la CampagneContre les Russes,Sous la prefecture de Jules Doazan.[10]

In 1814 the fortunes of war had necessitated the retreat of the French before the allied forces, and Coblentz was occupied by the Russians. Instead of demolishing the memorable record of the previous campaign, the Russian commander of the force, by which the town was captured, caused a supplementary statement to be added, which clearly showed the complete change of affairs. The addition was as follows:—

Vu et approuve par nous, Commandant Russe de la villede Coblentz. 1 Jan. 1814.[11]

The people of Coblentz appeared to enjoy drawing a stranger's notice to these inscriptions, and it was easy to perceive that they considered the annexation of the Rhenish provinces to France, by the first Napoleon, as not merely objectionable, but detestable and insufferable. I believe that the same sentiments pervaded every part of Germany, which had been under the rule or in the occupation of the French. As far as my sojourn in Germany enabled me to form an opinion, I thought that the people liked the English very much, and thoroughly disliked the French. I found them most friendly, and on several occasions when I have wished to procure fruit, and produced money, pointing at the same time to apple, pear, or plum trees, in theunfencedgardens and orchards near Wiesbaden, the tree would be shaken, and signs made to me to pick up the fallen fruits, and money would be declined. This kindness was accorded to me because I was deemed an Englishman. I do not believe that an apple would have been gratuitously tendered to a Frenchman. In the places of public amusement, I repeatedly heard a certain lively tune played. It seemed to be decidedly popular, and I was informed that it owed its popularity to the fact of having been the quick-step to which the Prussians advanced upon the flank of the French army at the close of the battle of Waterloo.

In the preceding paragraph, I have mentioned unfenced gardens and orchards. I have passed along roads in the Rhenish land where, for five or six miles, there were no fences whatever between the highway and grounds appropriated to the culture of choice fruits and vegetables, and where no hedge, wall, or ditch intervened to distinguish or separate one holding from another. The bounds were marked by poles, on the tops of which bits of straw or dried rushes were placed; but even such marks were not considered necessary at the edges of the public thoroughfare. Of course, in those districts grazing was impracticable. No sheep or goats were to be seen, no horses, unless such as were yoked or saddled; and the food for the cows was usually conveyed, in the morning and evening, from the place of its production, in a cart drawn by one of themselves. The summer feeding for the cattle consisted of clover, Italian rye-grass, Lucern, American cow-grass, or vetches. I observed that the fodder was cut and left lying sufficiently long to become flagged before it was given to the animals. The tillage in those districts presented a great contrast to the generality of Irish crops. Neatness and cleanliness characterized the German culture, and the weeds were excluded from the partnership which is so liberally accorded to them here. Near Wiesbaden, I saw a very flourishing crop, which occupied, in my opinion, about two acres, and I was informed by Dr. Greiss, that the elevation of the place above sea-level was 2400 ft. The growth was tobacco, for the production of which our soil and climate are as well suited as those in which the Germans cultivate it. There it is taxed, or, as I believe, taken by the Government at a valuation, and made an Imperial monopoly. Here it is prohibited, to form, perhaps, a very apt and forcible illustration of the principle of Free Trade.

The springs at Wiesbaden are not numerous, but they constitute great natural curiosities. There is one which, if I remember rightly, is called the Kochbrunnen. It is intensely hot; and I was told that even in winter, the water is used for scalding the hair off slaughtered pigs.It gushes up profusely; and yet, within fifty yards of it, there is a spring extremely cold and effervescent, precisely similar to the Seltzer water. Whilst the Roman empire continued, almost all the Rhineland was appurtenant to it, and Wiesbaden was then designated "Mattiacæ aquæ." It is believed that Nero visited it for the benefit of his health; and there is a locality close to the town, where he is said to have sojourned, and which is named Nerothal, (Nero's valley.) Some ancient edifices have Latin inscriptions denoting their former use or the names of their pristine occupants. The Germans take special care of such antique remains; and instead of destroying relics of heathenism, they show them as indicating a state of darkness and degradation to which Christianity offers the greatest and most glorious contrast. In reference to the gratitude of their votaries to Pagan deities for benefits attributed to the exercise of their peculiar powers, I only recollect one mythological inscription, which I was prevented from forgetting by a ludicrous comment on it, made by a Manchester visitant at Wiesbaden. In the Ræmerbad, (Roman bath,) there was a mural tablet in perfect preservation, every letter on the stone being as distinct as when cut many centuries ago. It was as follows:—

"Æsculapio sanatori, milites quatuordecimæ legionis, obvaletudinem restaurtam, hanc tabulam votivam.D.D.D."

The Manchester gent and I had become acquainted at thetable d'hôteof the "Four Seasons," and we happened to stroll into the Ræmerbad at the same time. Pointing to the mural tablet, he said—

"Mr. Porter, they say that is Latin."

"Yes," I replied, "you have been rightly informed."

"Could you untwist it, and tell us what it is about?"

"I shall try. To Æsculapius the healer, the soldiers of the fourteenth legion, in consequence of their health being restored, give, inscribe, and dedicate this votive tablet."

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "those chaps werewide awake; and they knew how to pay a nice compliment, for of course this Skewlaypiuswas their regimental doctor."

I regretted that there was not another tablet extant declaratory of their veneration and devotion to Mars, for it would have elicited the interesting suggestion that his military rank was, at least, that of a colonel.

I recollect seeing on an ancient tower of octagonal form, near Andernach, an inscription, in reference to which I heard many conjectures, and some of them extremely absurd. It was as follows:—

"Siste paululum, ambula paululum, sedere vetitum est, etdormire est mori."[12]

The conclusion at which I arrived was, that immediately beneath this direction a sentinel's station had been established, and that whether he stood, or walked "his lonely round," he was to bear in mind that to slumber on his post was inexcusable, and subjected him to the forfeiture of life.

One day I sat, in the large dining-room of the Four Seasons, near a noble lord who, with his lady, had been there for some weeks. She was a native of Germany, and he was an Irishman who possessed extensive estates in a southern county. I heard him say to a gentleman, who was recommending him to visit Frankfort-on-the-Maine, that he could not adopt his suggestion, as he was obliged to start for home on the next day but one. That evening I was speaking to the landlord, and mentioned that I had heard my noble countryman tell his friend that he was about to leave. The landlord replied, "I am delighted to hear that they are going, forher other husbandis to be here next week, and their meeting would be rather unpleasant, especially as he is bringinghis other wife."

At a short distance from Wiesbaden, the road toSchlangenbad (the serpent's bath) passes through a portion of a very extensive forest. In one of my rambles, I left the highway, and walked into the dense wood, and when I thought that I had gone far enough, and that it was time to return, I became suddenly aware that I had lost my way. In a state of extreme uneasiness I walked for more than an hour, frequently shouting, but without hearing any responsive voice. Dismal ideas arose in my mind as to the probability of having to meet dangers and privations beyond my power of resistance or endurance. At length I found that there was a hill before me, on which the trees were rather sparse; and having attained the elevation, I was relieved from my apprehensions by a glimpse of the Rhine, and immediately directed my steps towards the river, and soon emerged from the forest. If any of my readers should contemplate a visit to any place in the vicinity of extensive woods, they will avoid all liability to such annoyance as I suffered, by refraining from solitary forest rambles, and by taking such excursions with a guide, or with companions acquainted with the localities. Before I left Wiesbaden, a young gentleman named Vernon was found dead in the Taunus forest. His death was attributed to the bite of an adder or viper.

In the Kursahl, at Wiesbaden, there was aRoulettetable, and also one forRouge et Noir. The gambling was not considered at all comparable to the play at Baden-Baden; nevertheless, I have seen many instances of serious, perhaps of ruinous losses. On one occasion I observed an Englishman who sat down at theRouge et Noirtable. He had a large leathern purse full of gold, and certainly more than one thousand pounds in Bank of England notes of fifty pounds each. In less than an hour, all his money was absorbed, and some exclamations, garnished with imprecations, as he retired, impressed me with the opinion that he was reduced to destitution. Whilst I express the warmest approval of the abolition of those gambling establishments, and their recent suppression in the German towns, I must admit having tried my luck occasionally to the extent of four florins (about sixshillings and eightpence.) In almost every instance the remorseless rake added my stake to the accumulations of "the bank." On the last evening that I was at the Kursahl, I went in a party of nine persons, of whom six were ladies. One of my fair companions proposed that each of us should contribute four florins, and stake the amount on red. This was acceded to, and I stepped forward and placed the money on the colour. The bystanders were numerous, and when it was announced that the red had won, I picked up the seventy-two florins, but whilst doing so, I heard an exclamation from one end of the crowd—"That would be a nice story to tell at the Dublin police-office."

During my stay at Wiesbaden, I visited Mentz, or Mayence, several times. On the first occasion, I was crossing the bridge from the right bank of the Rhine, and met a young officer in Austrian uniform. At that period Mentz was termed a Confederate town, and its garrison was composed of an equal number of Prussian and Austrian troops. I had seen enough of them at Wiesbaden to satisfy me that an inquiry on the part of a stranger would receive a kind and polite reply. I consequently accosted the gentleman in French, being quite destitute of German beyond the name of the place to which I wished to go, which was the Music Garden. To my surprise and great gratification, he said, "If it is the same thing to you, Mr. Porter, to speak English, I shall give you any information in my power." I told him that I wanted a direction to the Music Garden, and he replied, "I have to leave an order with the officer on guard at the Cassel end of the bridge, and then I shall return to my quarters, and the Music Garden is on the way, I shall show it to you in a few minutes." During our walk, I asked him how he knew my name, and was informed that he remembered seeing me at the assizes of Nenagh; that he was a "Tipperary boy," born and reared within sight of the Devil's Bit Mountain, and his name was Scully. He was a captain in an infantry regiment, and appeared to be perfectly contented with his position and its attendant prospects.We thoroughly fraternized, and I never again went to Mentz without calling at his quarters. He expressed an intention of visiting Ireland, and promised to favor me with a renewal of our friendly intercourse in Dublin; but my hopes of seeing him have not been realized, and I fear that he has not escaped all the disastrous combats in which, since 1851, the Austrian forces have been engaged.

Nothing tends more to render a sojourn in the Rhineland agreeable, than the great number of persons connected with hotels, railways, steamers, and other public establishments, who understand English. Indeed I may extend the observation to Belgium also. A foreigner in Dublin, if he is unacquainted with our language, has to encounter more difficulties than we would have to contend with in the places to which I have referred. This is to be regretted; for exquisitely beautiful as Rhenish, Swiss, or Italian scenery may be justly considered, still Ireland can present to a foreign tourist, views numerous and extensive, which cannot be surpassed in picturesque beauty. I have never met a foreigner who had seen the principal places of attraction in our country, who was not most enthusiastic in his expressions of admiration. Our insular position is no longer a serious obstacle to the traveller who may wish to visit even the most remote districts; and it is to be hoped that at no distant time Ireland shall be far better known by strangers. They should be encouraged by the most respectful and attentive treatment; and when we find that in the Mechanics' Institute of Dublin, a member will be instructed in French, German, or Italian, at the very moderate charge of six shillings per quarter, it is not creditable to our trading and operative classes that they should not attain to educational acquirements equal to those possessed by a considerable number of the same classes in several continental countries. Although I am a Dublin man, I regret that I must admit the superiority of Cork as regards the means of satisfactory communication with foreigners, understanding them and being understood.

Before I close my observations on the very interesting portion of Germany in which I had so agreeable a sojourn, I shall relate a couple of incidents from which my readers may form an idea as to the honest tendencies of the people. I spent an evening, along with some of my Wiesbaden associates, at the Music Garden of Mentz, and the weather being rather close and sultry, I took off a waterproof overcoat, and laid it on a rockery just beside our refreshment table. When the musical performances and other amusements had terminated, I departed without recollecting the garment, and arrived at Wiesbaden before I became aware of my forgetfulness. Next morning I set off to Mentz to try my chance of recovering the vestment, but with very slight hopes of succeeding. At the garden, a person connected with the establishment, on being informed of my business, said, in English, "Come to the place where you threw off your overcoat, and you will most probably find it." Accordingly, when we reached the rockery, I saw the coat lying where I placed it, and having possessed myself of it, observed to my conductor that I was extremely lucky, for unquestionably more than one thousand persons must have passed the spot on the previous evening. "Oh, yes," replied the German; "the garden was crowded, but there was not a man here who saw your coat lying there,without knowing that it was not his."

At Biebrich, the office of the steamers plying on the Rhine is in a house on the quay. It faces the south, but abuts the public thoroughfare without any rails or other fence. On the front wall there were two vines, on which there was an abundant crop of grapes; and on the day of my departure, whilst waiting for the steamer, I remarked to the agent that his fruit was almost ripe, and that it appeared to be of first-rate quality. He said that another week would suffice to ripen them perfectly, and that they were of very fine flavor. I observed that there was a strong temptation for his neighbours, and even for the casual passengers who walked the quay, to assume a partnership in such desirable productions. He seemedsurprised at my observation, and told me that no person would interfere with his vines, adding, "The grapes will be all left for me to gather. They have never been taken by anyone else,for they are grown on my wall, and are mine." I do not think that in any part of the United Kingdom there would be the slightest chance of fruit grown in a similar public situation, and unprotected by a strong fence, being left to the enjoyment of its owner, or even allowed to ripen.

FOOTNOTES:[9]Here is the man; here you may now beholdAugustus, promised oft, and long foretold.[10]The year 1812. Memorable by the campaign against the Russians, during the prefecture of Jules Doazan.[11]Seen and approved by me, the Russian commander of Coblentz, 1st Jan. 1814.[12]"Stand awhile, walk awhile, to sit down is forbidden, and to sleep is to die."

[9]Here is the man; here you may now beholdAugustus, promised oft, and long foretold.

[9]

Here is the man; here you may now beholdAugustus, promised oft, and long foretold.

Here is the man; here you may now behold

Augustus, promised oft, and long foretold.

[10]The year 1812. Memorable by the campaign against the Russians, during the prefecture of Jules Doazan.

[11]Seen and approved by me, the Russian commander of Coblentz, 1st Jan. 1814.

[12]"Stand awhile, walk awhile, to sit down is forbidden, and to sleep is to die."

On my way home from the Rhineland, I stopped for two days in Brussels, the second of which happened to be the day on which the anniversary of the attainment of Belgian independence was celebrated. I recollect seeing a monument which had been erected to the memory of those who had been killed in the ranks of the Belgian revolutionists, and amongst the names inscribed on it I observed "Corcoran, Irlandais," so that the Emerald Isle was not totally unrepresented on the occasion. Brussels was very full at the time of the fête, and in its crowded streets and squares a tolerable idea might be obtained of the confusion of tongues incident to the abortive attempt to erect the Tower of Babel. German, French, Flemish, English, Italian, Spanish, and the various languages of the more northern countries were abundantly ventilated, and with an effect which I thought extremely amusing. The city presented a very martial appearance, for not only the regular troops but the national guards also of the kingdom were made available for a grand review by their sovereign, Leopold the First. Each regiment had its "vivandieres," and I was informed that those of the national guardswere women of the same social rank as the members of the regiment to which they were attached. Their costume was as much assimilated to the uniforms of their respective regiments as female attire would permit. The grenadiers hadvivandieresof a height proportionally tall; the other regiments were accompanied by women, perhaps I should say ladies, of lesser stature, but all of them were, in my opinion, unexceptionally beautiful, and of most graceful and decorous demeanor.

At the time to which I refer, 1851, I was impressed with the conviction that no people could be more attached to a sovereign than the Belgians were to Leopold, and to his family. I did not form that opinion from the loud and spontaneous acclamations which greeted him and his children in the streets and at the review, but from the joyous expression which irradiated the countenances of all ranks and conditions, and impressed me with the belief that their loyalty was not merely respectful, but thoroughly sincere and affectionate. Regal splendor may dazzle its beholders, and popular demonstrations may excite and perhaps enlist many of those who witness their display; but I venture to assert that human nature can produce no spectacle more worthy of being admired and remembered than the cordial and enthusiastic reception of a benign and beloved monarch, by contented, happy, and loyal subjects.

On the occasion to which I have last referred, one of the royal carriages contained three children, two boys and a girl, with their tutor and governess. The girl was Leopold's only daughter, and her name was identical with that of his first wife, Charlotte. The little Belgian princess was then eleven years of age, and was exceedingly pretty. She was delicately fair, blue-eyed, and flaxen-haired, and appeared to appreciate highly the popular acclamations which were frequently announced as specially intended for her. The joyous countenance, irradiated bythe excitement incident to demonstrations of enthusiastic approbation, seemed inaccessible to the wrinkles of care, and exempt from the lachrymal effects of sorrow. Nevertheless, that royal child has furnished a most piteous instance of the mutability of fortune, of accumulated miseries substituted for the apparent approach of transcendent happiness. To her have been allotted

"The hopes that but allure to fly,The joys that vanish while we sip;Like Dead-Sea fruits that tempt the eye,But turn to ashes on the lip!"

"The hopes that but allure to fly,

The joys that vanish while we sip;

Like Dead-Sea fruits that tempt the eye,

But turn to ashes on the lip!"

In about six years after the time to which my reminiscence refers, she became the consort of Ferdinand Maximilian, eldest brother of the Emperor of Austria, who subsequently, at the instance of Napoleon the Third, assumed the title of Emperor of Mexico, but having utterly failed in his efforts to establish the Imperial authority to which he aspired, was shot as a culprit, by order of the President Juarez, in 1867, leaving his bereaved widow in such affliction as to produce a state of insanity from which she is not expected to recover.

On my return from the Continent, I spent a few days in London, and had a most gratifying opportunity of seeing the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park, which, apart from its own attractions and merits, afforded an example to the civilized nations of the world, stimulating their pursuits of the industrial arts, awakening dormant energies, and evoking amicable competitions and peaceful rivalries. I happened to express to the Commissioner of Police, a wish to be admitted to the building at night, and he gave me a note to the Superintendent in charge there, directing him to conduct me through it. The structure was lighted sufficiently to afford means to the police on duty to keep it safe from the designs of marauders and from accidental injury. Profound silence was only interrupted by thechiming of the clocks, and the announcement at certain intervals of "All's well." The solitude, the subdued light, the banners of all nations, statues and other works of art, of which I was the only spectator in that splendid and extensive edifice, suggested contemplative feelings which I am not adequate to express; but I can safely assert that my midnight visit to the great Crystal Palace of 1851, afforded me greater gratification than I ever derived from any public spectacle however gorgeous or crowded.

When I returned to Dublin, I found that one of the magistrates of the northern division was only waiting for my appearance before making an application for leave of absence; and his request having been acceded to, it was arranged that I was to do duty in the northern court on two days in each week, namely, Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was sitting in my own court on a Wednesday, when a constable preferred a charge against a man named Dowling, for collecting a crowd, causing a very great obstruction in Parliament Street, and refusing to move on when required. He was a street-preacher, who appeared to be extremely fanatical, insisting that he had a special mission to announce the glad tidings of salvation to the benighted people of Dublin. On hearing the evidence, I stated that his conduct was a nuisance, and that I should send the case for trial, unless the constable withdrew the complaint on the express promise of the accused party that the offence should not be repeated. To this the prosecutor agreed, and the preacher said "he would shake the dust off his shoes as a testimony against me, but that I should never again have to investigate such a complaint against him." He was discharged; but on the following day, I had to dispose of a similar charge against him in the northern court. He manifested very little displeasure against his prosecutor, but seemed to reserve all his indignation for me; and when I remindedhim of the promise he had made on the previous day, he replied that he had made himself acquainted with the bounds of my division in the south of the district, and did not intend ever to raise his voice there again, but that I was not satisfied to get rid of him,but had followed himto the northern division, to continue an unworthy persecution of a zealous but humble laborer in the vineyard of salvation. I was highly amused, as were many of the persons present, at the tendency attributed to me to pursue the street-preacher; and when he declared that he would leave Dublin, I suggested to the police constable the withdrawal of his charge, to which he readily acceded, and the accused party was discharged. In about six weeks after this incident I went to Liverpool with a near relative who was about to proceed to Australia, and having gone into the police-courts there when the morning business was about to commence, one of the clerks told the magistrate (Mr. Rushton) that I was present, and he most courteously offered me a seat on the bench. The first charge on the sheet was for obstructing the thoroughfare, by collecting a crowd, and refusing to desist from preaching there; and Dowling was the delinquent. He did not wait for the constable to be sworn or the charge stated, but at once exclaimed that he despaired of obtaining any justice, when they hadimported me from Dublinto sit in judgment on him there. His excitement and indignation produced great merriment, especially when Mr. Rushton told him that I was not there in any official capacity, but as a private individual who had not interfered, directly or indirectly, in any matter coming before the court. He was discharged with a caution. I have never seen him since: and I mention the case of this street-preacher only to show how accidental circumstances may produce, in some minds, the most unfounded conclusions.

On my resumption of duty in Dublin, I had very few cases of importance or peculiar interest to dispose of. Imay mention one in which two men were charged with being actively engaged in a riotous tumult in Dean Street, and assaulting the police. They had been extremely violent, and one of the constables had been so severely injured as to be incapacitated for duty during several days. In almost all such cases the prosecutors prefer a summary decision; and in the one to which my present remarks apply, I stated that I considered the prisoners, Foley and Magrath, deserved the utmost punishment which I was empowered to award, namely two months' imprisonment with hard labor. The culprits loudly exclaimed against such a judgment, and vociferated that they should get a full and fair trial by a jury. I acceded to their demand, and returned the informations to the next commission ofOyer et Terminerfor the city of Dublin. There never was a more complete exemplification of an escape from the frying-pan by a fall into the fire. They were tried and convicted before Baron Richards, and he sentenced them to be imprisoned for twelve months, and kept to hard labor each alternate month. Their repugnance to a summary conviction had received great publicity; and the increased punishment to which they were subjected had the effect of reconciling the delinquents who were subsequently brought to the police-court to the fullest exercise, by the magistrates, of their summary jurisdiction.

In 1853 a prosecution was instituted by a lady, named Kelly, against a Mr. Birch, whom she accused of embezzling or stealing a very considerable sum of money. Her informations were sworn before my colleague, Mr. Magee, and he issued a warrant for the apprehension of Birch, which was delivered to a very intelligent and active officer, who subsequently was promoted to be the chief superintendent. The accused party was supposed to be in France, whither it was intended to send Mr. Ryan with the warrant. I had nothing whatever to dowith the case, and I chanced to be sitting beside Mr. Magee when an application was made to him that he should go to France, having his expenses fully paid, and taking with him all the documents relating to the charge, for the information and satisfaction of the French authorities. Mr. Magee at once refused the request, alleging that his health would not admit of rapid travelling, but suggesting that Mr. Porter might undertake the journey, and fetch all the papers likely to induce the French functionaries to consent to the extradition of Birch, in the event of Ryan being able to find him. I consented to this arrangement, and set off for Paris, where I remained for a fortnight without any arrest having been effected of the accused party by the officer holding the warrant. I was never called on to produce the informations, and had no warrant in my possession, nor did I feel the slightest anxiety on the subject. Ryan was proceeding to France, when he ascertained that Birch was in Southampton, and there the capture was effected. A rumor was circulated in Dublin that I had gone to Paris to make a search, personally, for the alleged offender, when, in fact, I had neither the power nor the inclination to interfere beyond producing the informations which had been sworn before my colleague, and to authenticate them if required. My expenses were fully paid, and I found, on returning to Dublin, that the prosecution was abandoned. My short sojourn in the French capital was extremely pleasant; and having made myself known, as a Dublin police-magistrate, by the production of my passport at the prefecture, I experienced very kind and agreeable attentions. A man who spoke English was directed to attend me when visiting the public institutions, and I received a tricolored card, which procured me admission to all the theatres. I am tempted to mention one performance which I saw in a small theatre on the Boulevard near the large barracks, (La Caserne de Prince Eugene.) I do not recollect the title of the piece, but it exhibited the most extraordinary adaptation of machinery that I ever beheld, and the stage-tricks transcended all that I had previously seen orsupposed possible. A scene represented a railway terminus, and on the arrival of a train, the engine exploded, and the carriage next to it was torn asunder. One passenger was supposed to have had his head knocked off, his arms separated from his shoulders, and his lower extremities from his hips, and the body, head, and limbs were seen, as the vapour cleared off, lying on the roof of a shed. Ladders were instantly applied, and the passenger was taken down piecemeal. A bench was pushed forward on the platform, it seemed covered with dark cushions, and the trunk of the victim was placed on it, the head was affixed and the lower extremities were attached, an arm added on the left side, when a poodle dog joined in the performance by seizing the other arm and taking it off the stage. Instantly the man arose, apparently with only one arm, and pursued the dog, exclaiming that the cursed poodle should not have his arm for supper. He returned, bringing the arm, and resumed his place on the bench, where the apparent reunion of his frame was completed. A surgeon was supposed to have been sent for, and he came too late to claim any share in the restoration of life and vigor to the dismembered patient. On proceeding to feel the pulse, he was rewarded by a slap on the cheek, accompanied with the contemptuous intimation of "Voici votre honoraire." (Here's your fee.) I may remark that there did not appear to be any dripping of blood on the shed, neither did the platform or bench show any gory stains; and the performers who represented railway officials of the various grades, and passengers, male and female, to the number of twenty at least, intervened four or five times between the bench and the audience, as if actuated by the deepest anxiety for the supposed sufferer. I was not much surprised at the apparent deficiency of the right arm, for I had several times seen the late Pat Brophy, of Dawson Street, Dublin, representing Nelson in atableau vivant, and he managed on those occasions to appear as if he had lost an arm. The incidents which I have attempted to describe were only stage-tricks, but they were most perfectly accomplished.

A gentleman, who appeared to me to fill the office of secretary or chief clerk at the prefecture, availed himself of several opportunities for having conversations with me in English. I related to him some of the anecdotes and circumstances which I have included in the preceding pages, and he reciprocated by affording me much information and amusement. At our last interview, M. Hubert gave me six volumes, containing memoirs derived from the archives of the Parisian police, from the time of Cardinal Richelieu's administration down to the accession of Louis Philippe. I cannot offer many extracts from these volumes to the reader, but I shall notice two narratives which I was assured were, in their main circumstances,strictly true. One was subsequently shown to me in a collection of tales, and I considered it so amusing that I shall translate it in these pages. The other will, I hope, be deemed a striking instance of mere fact being far stranger than fiction. The former was entitled "Michel Perrin," and it is as follows:—

"I must go; I must depart as soon as possible. I plainly perceive that she has sold her watch without informing me. She has to work hard from morning to night; the needle of a woman cannot provide for the requirements of two persons. Ah! I ought to have left long before this! But where to go? without money, without family influence, without friends! How to get on in a world where I have never as yet lived, of the habits and customs of which I am as uninformed as an infant child! Nevertheless, I shall go, were I to beg on the highway; were I to die of hunger, I shall go."

This soliloquy is referred to the eighth year of the Republic, in a very humble apartment, which perhaps still exists at Dijon, and which was then inhabited by a former pastor of a small village in the department of the Cote-d'Or. Michel Perrin, who had lived up to that time in performing acts of charity, praying to his Creator, andcultivating the garden of his manse, had found himself torn from the asylum in which twenty-two years of his tranquil existence had been spent. Deprived of the slender stipend attached to his functions, persecuted by some agents of the Republican Government, and suspected by all, the poor priest had rambled for a considerable time from village to village, sometimes to avoid captivity, sometimes to avail himself of the friendship of the many kind hearts whose gratitude he had earned in happier times. Lastly, for a year he had lived at Dijon. There he had rejoined his sister, Madeleine Perrin, the supreme mistress of his establishment, and also his sole support in the world.

Madeleine, on leaving the manse, had betaken herself direct to Dijon, where she hoped to renew some old friendships, and to support herself by needlework. She had fully succeeded in utilising her talents for sewing to the extent of providing for her own wants; but when the good pastor, yielding to her earnest entreaties, had come to occupy one of the two little garret-rooms which constituted her residence, Madeleine soon became aware that a man, still in vigorous health and of good appetite, is more difficult to be fed than to be lodged.

She nevertheless completely refrained from discovering to her dear Michel the slightest shadow of her uneasiness regarding the future of them both. Anyone who heard her singing whilst plying her needle, or who had witnessed how, after having placed upon the table a savory repast, she cried, "Michel, your dinner is ready," would pronounce her to be a happy lass. However, at night, Madeleine was no sooner on her bed, and aware, by his loud snoring, that her brother was soundly sleeping, than a crowd of sad thoughts would arise to besiege her mind. When a delay in the payment of her earnings produced some difficulties, eight days of sickness brought a fearful aggravation of her misery. Moreover, she was becoming aged, being only two years younger than Michel, who was entering on his fiftieth year. Already her sight was weakened, and soon she might be unable to sew, even withthe aid of glasses. In vain did poor Madeleine strive to dispel thoughts so dark, so afflicting. More than once did the rising sun irradiate her chamber, and recall her to work without her eyes having been closed by sleep.

On his part, Michel Perrin, notwithstanding the efforts of his sister to conceal the result of his residence with her, was not slow in discovering the sad truth. From that time he had not ceased to form plans to effect the earning on his own part of even a few pence; but Madeleine repelled every suggestion which appeared to her as tending to lessen the dignity of the reverend pastor. Only one project had received her assent. She agreed to see her brother, whose studies had been refined and extensive, giving lessons in Greek and Latin, so that no person could have a son or nephew without being besought by her to make the boy learn the dead languages, and to choose Michel Perrin as his master; but whether the people of Dijon made little of those old acquirements, or that the learning of a village pastor did not inspire them with sufficient confidence, Madeleine addressed herself in vain to her friends or employers to give the smallest pupil to her brother, at even the smallest price. "He is still very clever," the poor woman would say, when she tried one of her vain efforts; "I wish you would come and see us. He never reads anything but Latin or Greek, except when he is at his breviary. If that does not convince you of his capability, I can say no more." She derived from all her applications only deep sighs without even shallow hopes.

It was true that the worthy pastor had no other amusement whatsoever than repeated perusals of Homer and Tacitus, which he had managed to save from the wreck of his scanty chattels. They constituted his whole library. Leading a life completely retired, when the weather precluded him from taking a solitary ramble, he passed his time in reading, praying, or chatting with his sister, whose voice was almost the only one by which he had been accosted during the past twelve months; consequently, although his affection for Madeleine had been always verygreat, it had become so intense as to make him regard another separation from her as the most deplorable of all his misfortunes. It was therefore in a miserable state of mind that he awaited Madeleine's return, each time that she left home in a renewed hope of procuring him pupils. For a considerable time he had refrained from asking her the question too often followed by the reply of disappointment. It was enough for her to give him a silent embrace, and that after she had thrown her shawl upon the bed, she betook herself at once to her work, for him to form the determination of leaving; and the sale of her watch, to which she attached peculiar value, confirmed his resolution.

He had decided on the following week as the time for a separation too afflicting, when one morning Madeleine returned, her countenance indicating that her mind was engrossed by some recent and unusual subject. Michel Perrin, absorbed in his reflections, did not at first observe her serious features. She was seated and working near the window, whilst the pastor, with an open book lying on his knees, was racking his mind as to how he could obtain the means of sustaining life when he would quit his sole remaining asylum.

"What a misfortune that Paris is so far off," said Madeleine several times, without perceiving perhaps that she was speaking aloud.

At the fourth or fifth repetition of this expression, Michel raised his head—"Why so, my dear sister?" said he; "wherefore do you wish Paris to be nearer?"

"Ah! wherefore? It would take too much of your time to listen to me, my dear brother, and you are reading your breviary, I believe."

"Tell me fully the reasons for your wish," replied the pastor, laying his book upon the table.

"It is because I have chanced to hear a matter so astonishing, so surprising. It must be admitted that some people are extremely lucky."

"We cannot be considered so," said Michel, as he breathed a heavy sigh.

"No; but your old class-fellow, Eugene Camus. Are you aware that he went to Paris in quest of employment? Well, he has come back for a few days, after having obtained a situation of two thousand francs a-year in the consolidated taxes."

"A place of two thousand francs!" exclaimed the good pastor. "You are right in saying that some are very lucky, Madeleine, for I would adduce this poor Eugene Camus as the most thorough blockhead and dunce that ever came from the college of Juilly."

"Well, he was dying of hunger at Paris for nearly two years; but his good fortune brought it about that another pupil of the Oratorians, Joseph Fouché, of whom you have frequently spoken to me——"

"Oh! Joseph Fouché should be a very different kind of man. I am very glad to hear that he is still living. A cunning fellow without any doubt, and always amongst the first. He and I acted together, as they said in the college; he helped me in my tasks, and in return I fought for him; for I was a stout, healthy youth, and Joseph Fouché was by no means strong."

"That has not hindered him from getting forward in the world, I must say that for him. He is minister—minister of, what shall I term it? It is all the same; it appears that when one becomes minister he may do whatever he wishes, and as his greatest pleasure consists in making the fortunes of his old class-fellows"——

"If I was sure of that," interrupted the poor pastor, with great emotion.

"I think he gave you a sufficient proof in placing Camus as I have described," replied Madeleine; "but Camus, being in Paris, could see him, could speak to him."

"And why should not I go to Paris, Madeleine?" exclaimed Michel Perrin, with an air of determination. "I shall go, sister; I shall see Fouché; I shall speak with him; since he has recognised Camus, who was not more than two years at Juilly, I am certain that he will recognise me also."

"Would you wish to undertake so long a journey,Michel?" said the kind sister, in great dismay; "no, no, my dear brother."

"Hear me, Madeleine," replied the pastor, moving his seat close to her, "whether I go to Paris or elsewhere, I shall leave this place."

"You are going away! You wish to leave me!"

"Your earnings are merely sufficient for your own support, my dear Madeleine. I do not wish any longer to eat the half of them; and all that you can say to induce me to remain will only annoy me, without making me abandon my resolution. Departing from this place, is it not the better course for me to go to Paris than any other place, inasmuch as you give me the hope of finding a friend there?"

"But Paris is so far," said Madeleine, bursting into tears.

"Bah! sixty or eighty leagues, what is that distance to a good walker? What annoys me the most, is having to take from you two or three crowns to support me on the road and at the commencement of my sojourn. Can you make out so much?"

"I shall not let you depart for Paris with two or three crowns, Michel, you may be assured of that," said poor Madeleine, sobbing.

"That would be beyond my requirements, sister. Something tells that once I arrive there, I shall find resources, and that my first letter from Paris will bring you good news."

The poor clergyman appeared so full of hope from the success of his journey, that he finished by imparting it to Madeleine. Without being fully consoled, she smiled sometimes at the agreeable perspective which her brother offered to her imagination. He perhaps did not indulge in very sanguine expectations, but having decided on being no longer a burden to her, he felt that he could act as a messenger or woodcutter when the good Madeleine was not at hand to prevent him.

The preparations for such a journey not being of a nature to delay it, in two days after that of which we havebeen speaking, Madeleine carefully made up a bundle for her beloved brother, which he was to carry on the end of a stick, and gave him a sealed rouleau in which, she said, there were forty francs; and when the brother and sister had embraced each other again and again, in tearful affliction, they separated.

The pastor accomplished ten leagues in his first day's journey, impelled by the double anxiety for a speedy arrival, and an avoidance of expense on the road. He was far richer than he supposed; for on the second day, his purse being empty, although he had lived on bread and cheese, he opened the rouleau, and his surprise equalled his grateful affection when he found three pieces of gold besides the forty francs. Feeling certain that Madeleine had not been able to provide such a sum without contracting debts, he resolved not to spend this gold, and to send it back by the first opportunity; but he was not the less thankful for her sisterly love.

As soon as he had taken up his abode at the most moderately furnished hotel of the capital, he did not lose a moment in acquiring information on various subjects which he considered conducive to his chances of obtaining an industrial livelihood. From his landlord he learned that Joseph Fouché was the minister of the general police, and that all the ministers gave a public audience once in each week, but that in order to obtain a special interview, it was necessary to request it by letter. Accordingly he penned the following note:—

"Citizen Minister,"Michel Perrin implores his former class-fellow, Joseph Fouché, to receive him as soon as possible. He is lodging at the hoteldu Soleil, rue Mouffetard.""Vale et me ama.""Health and respect."

"Citizen Minister,

"Michel Perrin implores his former class-fellow, Joseph Fouché, to receive him as soon as possible. He is lodging at the hoteldu Soleil, rue Mouffetard."

"Vale et me ama.""Health and respect."

Michel supposed that prefixing a Latin adieu to "Health and Respect," would remind Joseph of the time when, seated on the same bench, they were studying Cicero. Almost an entire week elapsed without any reply from the minister; and when Michel asked hislandlord if it ever happened that such notes were left unanswered, the latter mentioned about fifty instances of such neglect, almost without drawing breath.

His hopes were thus completely annihilated; and already he was only thinking of earning his bread by the sweat of his brow, when one evening the porter brought him a letter. After breaking the seal with a trembling hand, he read these words which seemed to him to be written in letters of gold:—

"The minister of the general police will receive the citizen, Michael Perrin, on Thursday the 24th inst., at one o'clock."

A person should, like our hero, have returned after having, in a state of utter despondency, traversed the streets of Paris, those streets so populous, but in which he would seek in vain for even an individual inclined to extend the hand of succour, to be able to form an idea of his joyful hope that he had at last found a protector—a powerful protector. Accordingly, he wrote, before retiring to rest, to Madeleine,that he was to be with the minister of the general police on the ensuing Thursday.

On the appointed day, Michel Perrin was in the ante-chamber of the minister before noon. Seated on the edge of a bench, he endeavoured to banish the timidity natural to those who have continuously lived apart from the world, and which the sight of a mansion in which everything indicated power and opulence tended to augment. To embolden himself, he recurred to his college days, and he was repeating for perhaps the hundredth time that Joseph Fouché had been his class-fellow, when he was called in.

Fouché was alone in his cabinet, seated before a desk covered with papers. He had hardly raised his head and fixed his small reddish eyes on the person entering, than assuming a cheerful manner—"There was no necessity," he said, "to announce you, for on my faith, I could not have met you in the street without recognising you."[13]

At this friendly reception the poor pastor fully resumed his courage.

"And you, too, citizen minister," he answered, cordially grasping the hand which Fouché extended to him, "you have so slightly changed that I believe myself recurring to the time when old Vieil allotted us our tasks."

The figure of the minister assumed an appearance of cheerfulness which was by no means habitual. Perhaps the sight of an old college comrade served to relieve him of some disagreeable reflections, perhaps it recalled to a deputy of the convention the recollection of the time when his life was simple and innocent.

"Sit down there," he said in a gay tone, "and tell me how you have got on in this world, since we lost sight of each other."

"I have lived for many years as happily as possible," replied Michel with a sigh; "for shortly after my ordination, I obtained a living in the most agreeable village of Burgundy."

"A poor position at present that of a pastor must be!" replied the minister, shaking his head.

"So poor in fact that after having been thrust out of the door of my manse, ruined, persecuted, I have lived during the last seven years on the benefactions of some charitable, kind souls."

"And why the devil did you not try to get out of your difficulties? You should bestir yourself."

"Bestir, bestir! That is easy said. At first I was obliged to hide myself in the farms, in the cottages, because I was suspected, or they pretended so; and I would ask you of what should I be suspected? But in short, matters proceeded thus in the department of the Cote-d'Or."

"And in many other departments," said Fouché; "but when you no longer feared for your head, you should have thought of your purse."

"If thinking of it would have filled it, it would never have become empty," replied Michel with a sorrowful smile. "I believe more ideas pass through the mind of apoor fellow who is trying to gain a crown than passed through the mind of Homer when writing the Iliad or Odyssey."

"And that did not lead you to any decided course?"

"To nothing but to come to Paris." Michel paused, but not without directing on his college friend a look more expressive than any words.

Fouché smiled. "Did you know that I was minister?" said he.

"Certainly."

"And you have counted on me," replied Fouché, with a kindness inspired by the thorough frankness of this man.

"Counted on you so much," replied the poor pastor, "that after God you are my only hope. Employ me where you wish, at whatever you choose, my destitution has absorbed all other difficulties. I shall not recoil from any description of employment. I am resolved to do anything by which I can earn my subsistence."

"To do anything!" repeated Fouché, with some surprise, "then you would not refuse to be employed in my department."

"Oh! that is all that I ask!" cried Michel Perrin, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"Undoubtedly you would acquire more money than your parish ever produced."

"Is it possible?"

"Certainly; men who resemble you are rather scarce." And Fouché fixed his eyes on the becoming figure of the pastor. "I know that you are very intelligent, and you can express yourself clearly and explicitly."

"It is certainly advantageous to have received a classical education," said Michel, with a modest air, although he was in fact highly gratified by the compliment.

"Besides, I can put complete confidence in you, whilst with the generality"——

The door of the cabinet opened, and an usher informed the minister that the first consul required his presence at the Tuileries immediately.

Fouché bundled a number of papers into a portfolio with all the haste of a man who fears to lose a minute.

"As to me, as to me?" said the poor pastor, who with terror beheld him preparing to leave without any definite promise.

"Hold," said the minister, writing hastily two lines on a scrap of paper, "take this to Desmarest, chief of division." He then hurried to his carriage and drove away.

The pastor had barely read these words, "Desmarest is to employ Michel Perrin, and to pay him liberally," when in the utmost delight, he proceeded to the office of the functionary mentioned, and the order which he brought procured his immediate admission.

The citizen Desmarest, who appeared to him to assume more importance than the minister himself, inasmuch as he had not been his class-fellow, took the paper, read it, and without offering him a seat, asked him if he was the person named Michel Perrin.

"The same, citizen."

"You have just left the minister?"

"Only this moment; for we had chatted together a full half-hour, as two good friends would do who had not met for a considerable time."

"Be seated, Citizen Perrin. Is it the minister's intention that you are to correspond directly with him or with me?"

"It would seem that in referring me to you, citizen."

"As he has said nothing positive in this respect, it is with me you will have to do."

"And when shall I commence?"

"Without delay; for the minister, in directing me to pay you liberally, undoubtedly believed that there was need of your ability and zeal."

"For my zeal I can fully answer," replied Michel. "I hope that, with some little experience in the discharge of actual duty, my ability shall equal it."

"I have no doubt of it, no doubt whatever. You have been sent to me by a man who is never mistaken in his estimate of individual capability. I shall enter your name on the list of those employed here. You shall have twenty francs per day, and your payment shall commence from this morning."

At these words, the poor pastor had great difficulty in restraining an enthusiastic expression of gratitude for such treatment. He said that he longed to render himself sufficiently useful to justify the good opinion entertained of him, and he asked the chief of the division to designate at once the duty he was eager to commence.

"For to-day, I have no particular directions to give you; but you will come to me in two or three days. Meanwhile, go through the city, traverse the promenades and other public places, dine in the restaurateurs, especially in the good restaurateurs."

"Ah! as for the prime restaurateurs," said Michel smiling, "they shall not see me at all. I believe them to be far too costly for my purse."

"I understand," replied Desmarest; "perhaps you are short of cash; but I am going to pay you a fortnight in advance. Will that suffice?"

"For a long time, I assure you," answered the good pastor, full of gratitude, "although I have really a scruple not having done any duty yet."

"Bah! it is almost always the usage here; the intentions of the minister were certainly not to have you sent to the mean eating-houses."

"What good angel has led me to these worthy people?" said Michel Perrin to himself; and whilst he was expressing reiterated thanks, the chief of division, having no time to lose, wrote an order for the cashier, and handed it to him, telling him to go and get his payment, and not to return before the following Monday, unless he had something pressing to say.

If the first thought of the pastor, when he found himself the possessor of three hundred francs, tended towards God, the second was for Madeleine, and he could not dream of dining before he had written four pages to that good sister, and made his letter the bearer of half his treasure to Dijon. Then, with a light heart and mind at ease, he resolved to follow the advice of the Citizen Desmarest, and to enjoy a little portion of the Parisian pleasures. "I have four good days before me up to Monday," he said, "and indeed I shall take some amusement."

In consequence, he betook himself to walk about the city. Paris, which up to this time had appeared sad, muddy, smoky, took all at once a cheerful appearance in his eyes, for a man whose mind is at ease, sees matters very differently from the aspect they present to an afflicted person. He was not fatigued by visiting the beautiful monuments, public buildings, bridges, gardens, and parks, and he imagined himself transported to fairyland. The Boulevards soon became his favorite promenade. Owing to the variety of amusements which he found there, the good pastor could pass his entire day without experiencing one moment of ennui. The shops, equipages, puppet-shows attracting and occupying his attention; not until night did he direct his steps to the Rue Mouffetard, delighted with the sights of the day, and greatly pleased at having been able to provide himself with two plentiful meals, an indulgence which he had for a long time previous been unable to procure.

When Monday arrived, Michel Perrin presented himself at the ministry of police rather anxious to ascertain whether the employment about to be assigned to him might not be beyond his capacity.

"Ah! 'tis you," said Desmarest, who appeared busily searching for a paper which he could not find on his desk. "Well! where the devil have I thrust it? What have you done these four days past?"

"I have run about the city as if I was only twenty years old," replied the pastor gaily.

"Something infernal must have happened to it," said the chief of division, opening a drawer that he had not tried before. "All was quiet, I suppose."

"Ah! perfectly quiet! Every one I saw appeared, like myself, to be bent on amusements."

"The malcontents are not giving up their designs for all that. (Could I have taken it home with me by mistake?)"

"Yes; the discontented people. That is what a poor fellow told me yesterday in a chat which we had at the Boulevard du Temple, and, in faith, I think he was one of them himself."

The pastor stopped speaking for a few moments after these words.

"Speak on; go on," said Desmarest, who continued to rummage his papers; "I am listening to you whilst I am looking for this cursed letter. What sort of man was this fellow?"

"He is a former garde du corps of the Comte d'Artois."

"Is he young? (This is enough to set one mad!)"

"About my age."

"(Ah! I have found it at last.) Well, your former garde du corps?"

"He told me his entire history."

"What a confiding man! Well?"

"It was a simple, plain story, and indeed I told him that I was a clergyman, that"——

"You told him that you had been a clergyman?" exclaimed Desmarest, laughing immoderately.

"Undoubtedly," replied Michel, rather disconcerted.

"All right, all right," said the chief of division in a tone of approval. "What makes me laugh is, that if you had told me the same thing when you first came here, you would not have surprised me, and I should have believed you at once: I observe in you so much of the air of a man who has worn a priestly habit."

"I have never been able to divest myself of that air, although it has often proved almost fatal to me," said Michel, with a sigh.

"At present, on the contrary, it is most favorable; your figure, your entire appearance inspires confidence."

The pastor bowed to express his thanks.

"And without doubt," continued Desmarest, "the good Royalist of the Boulevard is living on hope like all his friends. He has some lively expectations of a happy change of his circumstances."

"He has indeed, many."

"What do they depend on?"

"Ah! I do not know. The first time that he saw me this man could not tell me all his affairs."

"This is very natural," said the chief of division. "Have you arranged to see him again?"

"We have settled to have a game of chess one of these days, provided I may be free to return to the Café Turc."

"And what prevents you?"

"If the business which you will appoint for me to-day requires my entire time."

"I have no business to appoint for you," answered Desmarest, "but as I am greatly burdened myself at present, you may return to this matter or to any other until Thursday; come to me on that day."

Michel Perrin, not wishing to be troublesome, hastened to salute his chief and to leave the office, but not without being greatly surprised that they paid him so liberally for doing nothing. Nevertheless, feeling certain that ultimately he would be set to work, he laughed as he walked on the quay. "Three more holidays," he said, "and in faith we'll enjoy them!" And he resumed the life of a Parisian cockney.[14]

The following Thursday, after having waited near two hours in the ante-chamber with some men of very sinister aspect, the pastor was admitted to citizen Desmarest, who smiled graciously, saying—

"Well, what news?"

"News!" exclaimed Michel quite astonished.

"Yes; when you come here undoubtedly you must have something to tell me."

"In fact, citizen, as this is Thursday, I have come to know if it is to-day that you desire to commence employing me."

"No, a hundred times no! I have already told you to take your own course, to go through Paris like a man who thinks only of amusing himself and seeing everything."

"I do nothing else through the length of the day," said the pastor laughing.

"Well, that is the minister's intention and mine; have you settled your game of chess? Have you again met your garde du corps?"

"No."

"The devil!" said Desmarest, who at that time was specially looking after the Royalists; "but at least you know his name?"

"He never told it to me."

The chief of division shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

"You have let him see that you were too knowing for him."

"Quite the contrary," replied Michel, "for I told him at once that my ideas were very simple."

"I am beginning to think so too," muttered Desmarest; then to terminate the interview, he bowed and added, "let me see you on Monday."

"Certainly," said the pastor to himself, as he took the direction of the Palais-Royal with the intention of dining at the café de Foi; "certainly if this continues I can congratulate myself on having obtained a most agreeable position. As long as my business consists in waiting on my chief twice in the week, I run no risk of losing my employment through incapacity."

When he entered on the following Monday, he had waited a very long time until a number of persons passed, who stated that they were ordered to attend.

"The usher says that you have been waiting for six or seven hours," said the citizen Desmarest. "I had some important business to transact, or you should have been admitted sooner; for I suppose that you have something pressing to tell me."

"Nothing whatever, citizen," quietly replied the pastor, "I always come very early, that you may have me at hand, if you wish to have me called."

"It is certain that you are admirably punctual, citizen Perrin; I said so yesterday to the minister."

"I hope that in this respect you shall never have to reproach me," replied the pastor, bowing.

"You pass your days in your chamber," said Desmarest.

"Me! I run like a mountaineer; yesterday I did more than two leagues on the flagways of Paris."

"And you have seen nothing, heard nothing worthy of your attention and mine?"

"Ah!" said the pastor laughing; "it requires so little to attract my attention and to enable me to pass the time, that you would not wish to lose your time listening to such trifles."

"Well! be it so," said the citizen Desmarest, whose astonishment had reached its acme; "Good day, return to-morrow, I request of you."

Michel Perrin had scarcely closed the door of the cabinet, when the chief of division rang and obtained the immediate attendance of one of themouchardsor detectives who were in the ante-chamber.

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