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DEOE OSOUTHIERN RIGHTS, DEMOCRACY, NE~WS, LITERATUR, SINEA1 lE 1T
WILLIAM 3.FRANCIS, PUB[ISHE - neount- ht or wrong-our teut
MANUV L . NOAI[, UADITOR 9, 8 .W
VOL. IV. SIJMTERVILLE, So C. JANUARY 9,915.* j :j~
Extracts from late
Publications.
TERRORS OF THE
FRENCH REVOLUTION.
We preseit our readers with the fol.
lowing extracts from a late English
publication entitled "Tales of the First
French Revolution." Tho work has
not been republished in this conutry.
To the first story of tho book is entitled
"P asional Visits or Le Doeteur No
ir, and the scene of the medical gen
tlemen's talc, as related by himself, is
principally laid in the prisom of St.
Lazaro, at Paris; a prison, that, dluring
the terrible dominion of Roberspierre,
was kept crammed to suffoeation by the
members of the aristocracy and others
who had been denounced to the Com
mittee of Public Safety. The Doctor,
being a personal friend and the pro
fessional adviser of the Dictator, was,
by his authority, permitted to attend in
a healing capacity some of his former
elegant and high-born patients, those
whom he had been accustomed to visit
in their lordly mansions3, but who, by
the turn of events. had since become
the occupants of a foul and disgusting
prison. Anongstother beaititil and
noble ladies confined within its walls,
was the young and love Duchess of St.
Aignan, and the Doctor thus relates the
particulars of his painful interview
with his interesting and unfortunate
patient -
A YOUNG MOTHER.
As the turnkey opeied the door sud
denir, I heard a little shriek, and I
perceived that Madame de St. Aignan
was taken by surprise, and was a little
startled so to be. As for me, I was al
ways taken by surprise with one thing,
to which I never could acecustom; inyself,
and that was the petfeet grace and dig
nity oft r demeanor, her calimess,
hue gen le~ resignation, her angelic pa
tience, and her sweet and wommily
rtmdesty. There was that in her, so
rare and so exquisite, whieb commands
respect and submission, without ever
exacting it; and even her downeast eyes
were of a power lrresistable. At this
moment she was, however, a little dis
cncwerned at our slden intrusion; but
. e soon recavored her dignity and
comiposuire. Her cell was very small,
and at this time of the year burning hot,
exposed as it was to the southern sun,
amid in Thermid-r, which I assure you,
was sultry as any July you have ever
been acquainted with. The only mneans
Madame d St. Aignan had to protect
hierself, in some degree, from the tieree
rays of the sun, which fell full upon the
little apartment was to hang her shawl,
before thes window; it was the only arti
cle of dress of that sort which she had
been allowed to keep. The dress she
indh on was of the simpldest; but it was
anT <(rening dress, and with short sleeves;
it*;lht have beent a ball-dress. She
r' up blushiig, with a slight ''Eli,
ua .Dieu !" and for a moment the
tears stood ini her eyes; but seeing I
wvas alone, she recovered herself imume
diately, and throwing over her should
ers a sort of shor t, white dressing-gown,
iich lay near, she sat dlown upon the
'edge of her- bed(, offering me a strawv
chair, the only other article of furniture
in hier prison. I perceived that one of
her feet was bare, and that she had
>on ber- hand a small, delicnte, open
black silk stocking, which she
' eg. 'GoolI heavens !' cried
4 only given me a hint'
teen did as nmucht !' said
iled sadly, as she r aised
s into one of mournful
arked upon that no
deep [and( solemn
s new to mae, anid
o its nsual mnelan
sit down !' said she
n, and with a cer
icr voice, 'Since my
made known, thanks
yo '-- 'nougrh, en
iterrupting her; 'I hate
have a reprieve,' contip
he tumbrels will come as
will not dlepart empjty
onary tribunal.' Iher
upon the window, there
entary w~idness in them.
~bretls ! the dlredlful tumbrels!'
'Thcir wheels shako the
ttheir foundiiions.
kos mo shudder.
i 4er the arch
how stow and
A las ! they are
etr thevir. loid. of
given me the intelligence. Poor Rose!
she has a sweet voice; it is a consola
ti'n to us all to hear it singing below
our windows, even when it is to an
nouince tidings greivotis such as these.
Poor little thing !' She was silent a
miomient, passed her hands across her
eves, struggled a little for composure,
and then resuming her own noble and
confiding air: -'What I wish to ask
you,' said sie, resting the ends of her
fingers 111011 my black coat sleeve, 'is,
to find me the means to preserve my
poor unborn child from tie influence of
these horrors, these sufferings. I am
ill terror (-Ifor it, poor little being. You
men-even you, physician as you- can
never know the pride and tenderness
which fills a woman's heart at such a
imonent !' She raisedI her eyes to
heaven. 'Good heaven ! what a divine
terror ! what fresh and continued as
tonishment ! Another heart beating
within my own ! An innocent, angelic
spirit, in union with my own harrussed
and agitated being ! A double myste
rious lifle and sympathy, known and
shared by mc alone ! lit to think
that ly agitation is. perhaps, intense
sufferinlg to this tender, invisible crea
ture-that my terrors are of this, I
dare hardly breath !-I dare hardly
think-I am afraid to move-I am
afraid of my113 own thoughts-I reproach
myself with my love, with my hate--I
dare not be agitated-- treasure my
sell' as if I were asaint-I do not know
where to turn-this is how I fell.' She
looked as an angel as she thus spoke,
with a sort of divine terror and anxiety
in her large eyes. 'lie!p mne, doctor!
furnish IC withi some idea that I can
keep fixed here, in my mind,' looking
earnestly. 'Save me from injuring my
child. You are sorry for me; I see you
are. You know, alas ! that it is all in
vain; nothing can harden our poor
hearts; they will hurry, pause; tremble;
oh, they will! Aid what will he the
Cate of imiy child ?' 'hlowever,' sail
she, aftera pause, and letting her beau
tiful head fIlil with an air of desponden
cy upon her bosom, 'one thing is cer
tain. It is my duty to carry this poor
little creature to the day of its birth,
which will lie the eve of that of my
imyi death. I am only allowed to re
main on earth for that. I am the frail
shell wlieh surrounds the precious fruit,
aMd which will he broken as soon as that
is diselosed. I am nothing else ! No.
tling else now, doctor ! lhit do von
think'-laying hold of, and pressinig
my hand--do you think they will let
me see it ?-Do you think they will let
it be with me jit for a few hours after
it is born ? If thev were to take anid
kill me directly it would be very cruel,
woulin't it ?--Olh ! if they only give
me ti:.ic to hear it. cry--to kiss it and
nuris it just through one day-1 think
I could frgive them all tile rest; 1 do
S1 excessively loIg 1or- that one hour !'
I could only press her ihands; I could
only bend down and kiss thlem with a
sort of religious reverence. I could
not speak, and was afraid to interrupt
hI. She smiiled thirough lhner tears,
with the sweet r'adiant smile of a pretty
woman of two-and-twenty, and then she
went On.-'1 always fancy that y'ou
kinw every thing--that I have onily to
say why and y-ou have an answer- i-cady'.
N~ow, tell me, why is a women more a
imiothier than she is any thing else ?
friend, daughter, wife ev-en--less vain,
less delicate, perhaps less rational, than
is her natur-e ? 'That a child, who is
y'et as nothing, is every thing ? that
those living alr-eady arec less than it ?
T11his is very unijust ? Bunt so it is!
Why is it so ? 1 am angry with my.
self.' 'Gently ! gently !' said 1. 'You
have a little fever. You speak too
(ick and too hurriedly. Gently.' 'Al,
I leaven !' criedl she, 'and I shall never
nlourishI it at my hi-east !' An~d, turn
ing" suddenl aay3, she flhung herself
uponl the little bed, and, bury3inlg hecr
face in the counterpane wept bitter-ly.
Iler- hleart was overflowing.
The Phlysician's servant, or rather-,
as they werne dlenomtinatedI in those lev
elling (days, his aionocie, lilaireau, was
a thorough Republican and staunchl
f'riend~ to the sovereignty of the people;
lie, therefore, had considerable influ
ence withi tile ruling aulthorities, and
managed eleverly to purloin from a
commiissary who was r'ed~ing the death
warrnts of' several prison..rs, a list, iup
on whichl, amongst the names of other
parties whom lhe knew his master was
desirous of sa. vinlg, was that of Madame
Do St. Aignan. Tihe following thrill
ing scene took p~lace in a wretched
apartmnent of St. Lazar-o. Th the cen
tro of this room was placed a largo dir's
ty wvoodlen table, with food of the coar
est doecriptioni thrown upon it, and
around this table wcro, septed some1 of
the members, male and female, of the
proudest families in France:
TIE DEATH WARRANTS.
At this iument a heavy, lumbering
noise was heard, which shook the win
dows, and made every one start and
shudder. There was a sudden silence.
It was the noise of the tumbrols. A
sound but too well known; it was like
thunder once heard, and never forgot.
ten. It was not like the sound of com
mon wheels; there was a sort of screech
ing, grinding noise like that of rusty
chains, or the rattling of the earth up
on our biers: I turned sick, 'and the
hair of my skin arose.' 'Ha! make
haste ! Eat and have done with it,'
said the -ioarse voice of lafemme Si
mon. No movement, no answer; we all
rcmaindd as if fixed in the posi
tion in which we had first hcard that fa
tal roll. We are like the families of
Pompeii and I lerculaneum, surprised
by death in the very attitude they
wcre in. La Simon charged plates,
knives, and forks in vain; all remained
fixed, no one stirred, the astonishment
at this unheard-of cruelty seemed to
have petrified us. To have allowed
them to meet once more-to have per
mitted this fiendly intercommunion of
a few hours-to have taken them from
their dreariness and their solitude to
eijoy once again society, friendship,
even love! and all to render this' sud
den parting more inexpressibly bitters.
'The door was flung open, and three
commissaries entered. They were
clothed in long-skirted, dirty coats, top
boots, and wore red scarfs; and they
were followed by a fresh company of
the rabble in bonnets rouges, and armed
"ith pikes. These last rushed in ut
tering cries of joy, and clapping their
hands as at a pantomine. What they
saw struck even thein--the slaughterers
fell back abashed before their victims,
for, recovering immediately from their
first sentiment or dismay and astonish
inent, contempt gave them courage to
meet this supreme moment. They fclt
thenselves s: far above their enemies,
that it almost filled them with a mo
mentary satisfaction, and they turned
their eyes, with composure, upon one
of the commissaries who advanced, a
paper in his hand, and prepared to
read. It was the appel nominal. As
soon as a name was pronounced, two
men stepped forward, and lcd off the
person inentioned. le was givenl in
charge to the mounted Yens d'armes
outside, and immediately placed upon
one of the tumbrels. The accusation
was, that of conspiracy in prison against
the sovereign people, and planning the
assassination of the members of the
committeu le salat public. The first
person accused was a woman of eighty
years ofage, the abbess of Monmartre.
Madame de Moutmorenei. She rose
with some dilliculty, and, whena she
was stauding, saluted all presenit with
a tranquil smile. Those who were near
kissed her hands. Not a tear was shed:
the sight of blood seemed to have dried
up such vain demonstrations of sorrow.
She went out, saying, 'Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do!'
A mourniful silence ensued. It was
interrupted by the shouts and screams,
which announced that she had made
her appearance amo:ng the populace
outsidle, and a shower of stones struck
against the walls and windows. In thme
midst of the noise I could distinguish
the explosion, now and then, of fir
arms. There wer e mnomenits when the
ye'n d t'armes could scarcely prteterv
thme prisoners from being massac red.
Th'le appewl continued. T1he second
names was that of a young man of twen
ty, M. do Coateral, if I renmember right,
who wvas accusedl of ha ving ason, ani
emigrant, hearitng at ins against his coun
try. The accused was not even mat
ried. lie burst out laugini~g. lie
pressed the hands of his friends, and
went out. The same shouts and clat
ter of stones. A muourful silence rounda~
the table; all waiting the sentence of
death at their post, as soldiers expect
the fatal bulet. As soon as a pa-isonter
went omit, his plate was clear-od away,
and those who remaained closed their
r-anks, as ini a battle, smiling sadly at
thieir- new neighbours. A ndrec Chienier
was still standing by Madame de 3t,
Aignan, and I was near- them. As in
a shipwreck the crew gather instinctive
ly round the .one wvho pos5ssse the
highest courage and energy, so the
prisoner-s c-ohllected gradually round
this young man, Ie stood, his arms
crossed, and his eyes raised to H eaven,
as if in apostirophe. 'Did Ijeaveni look
on, anid would not take their pairt ?'
Mademoiselle de Coigny, stanidinig at
the other end of the room, saw, at eve
ry successive appel, the circle of her
protectors diminish, till at length she
was loft lmost alone. Then she slowly
advanced, suppor ting herself upon the
edge of 6the nlow empty table, till she
canme to where we were sitting, anrd
lhaced herelf at a little distance, tai
king shelter, poor forlorn child'j 41 it
AwerO. under ihn shindo. ofr ... ..:
Her noblo countenance preserved its
dignity, but nature was giving way:
her limbs trembled, and her knees were
knocking together. The good Madame
de St. Aignan held out her hand. The
poor young creature burst into tears,
and fell so bbing upon her bosom. The
rude and pitiless voice of the coinmissa
ry contlitued the appel. , The man
seemed to take pleasure in prolonging
suspense arid suffering. Ile pronounc
ed the baptismal names in a slow, af
fected, drawling manner, dropping out
syllable after syllable; then suddenly
closing with the family name. It was
like the fall of the axe. Ile swore rude
ly at the prisoners as they passed him,
a preface to the cries and hiuses outside.
lie was heated with wine, and could
hardly keep his legs. While the u.an
was reading, 1 observed close behind,
and crouching down almost under 'iis
arm, a women's white cap, and above
this white cap, with its large tri-coloured
cockade, the long thin face of a man,
who was tall enough to read the list
over the commissary's shoulders. It
was Rose and my artillery man Blaireau
Rose appeared gay an curious, like
her friends of the Halle, by whom she
was surrounded. I felt that I detest
ed her. As for Blaireau, lie had his
usual hair-sleepy, indifferent air; but his
uniform, I saw, gave him much consid
eration among the boinets-roiues and
eans-eilottes, with their pikes, whosur
rounded him. The list which the com.
mssary was reading was scrawled up
on several different sheets of paper, and
the worthy comnissary seemed to have
some difficulty in deciphering them.
Blaireau advanced his hend officiously,
as if to help him; taking ofl, at the same
time, his hat, which seemed to be in his
way. At that moment I saw, as I
thought, Rose steop suddenly down, and
pick up a folded pal er from the ground;
but the part of the refectory in which
she stood was so dark, that I could not
feel sure of that fact.
There is also another work on the
same subject, by Mr. St. John, enti
tled the 'Aristocrat.' The tale is
founded upon the terrors of the French
Revolution, at the time when Louis
XVL. and his Queen were confined in
the prison of the temple. iuritig tihe
Republican days of Robespierre, St.
Just, and the other celebrities of that
momentous era, there lived in Paris a
young and gay Frenchman, named, or
rather lie had assumed the name of
Seneca Taitbout; for there was nothing
aristocratic inl its sound. Although he
contined to live in the same apartments,
and kept up the same style as during
the Mo;iarchy, and had obtained the
nickname of ''lie Aristocrat,' still, no
one dared suspect the patriotism of one
who had fought at the Bastille, at pres
ent commanded a section of Saus-culot
tes, and was moreover an intimate
friend of Rubespierre. A rumour was
abroad that a Royalist conspiracy was
to break (out, amid forth with a decree
was issued that at a certain hour every
one was to he within doors, their papecrs
of civisum were to lhe examinimed, and
suspected aristocrats were to be sent to
prison. Opposite to Seneca's hiouse
resided a beamutiful young girl, whom11 he
knew to be a Royali st by the crucifix
hung upon her wall; aind immediately
after the piublication of the decree lie
itnssdan agoizing scene of gilef
between thme girl and all elderly lady
whom he supposed to be her mother.
In a mnomenit he unmderstoodl their posi.
tions-conicealed Ro~yalists with out pa
pers -he determuined to save them, and
rushed across to their abode. lis con
jectuores were correct, for the disguised
ladies were the Countess Meltanmeaux
and lier- (laughter; they had fled fr'onm
their splendid mnsioni. arid hid them
selves in a humble lodging. Seneen
saves them in the following coulrageous
nmner: -
TIIE SEARCH FOR ROYALISTS.
An hour passed1 in conversation.
They all noticed the decad stillness of the
streets. iNot a soul was out, save scat
tered senitries guarding the houses.
Amd still the lugubrious driums beat.
Never was such a scene before in the
capital oft a great country. The barri
em's of' the towvn had beenr closed at 12
o'clock, arnd gqardedl by thec agents of
the terrible Santerre. Presently a
movginent was heard ini the street.
Seneglooked out, A dvzen sana8.cu?.
loftes were going by, guarding half as
many prisoners, four men and two wo
men, whom, by the talk of the soldiers,
it was clear had been corresponding
with emigrants. One of thme pike-men
carried a hundle of lcntqes in his 1and
'The Aristocrat'. felt the blood chilled
round his heart, and turning back to
his new friends he began to talk. lie
described the state of France, the tre
mendous position of the Republic, and
found excuses not for the bloodshed,
but for the severity in other ways, and
the precautions taken. He told them
how desperate and calculating men, by
spending money, incited the ignorant
to insurrection, and caused the death of
thousands. lie pictured the C'omite de
Salut Public battling against half Eu
rope without, and three parts of France
within, and was continuing to speak to
eager and wondering listenefs, when a
knock came to the door, and the clat
tering of swords was heard. The whole
party rose to their feet annihilated with
fear-Seneca fhr them, they for all.
But to keep the visitors waiting was
dangerous, and 'The Aristocrat' rushed
to open. I1alf-a-dozen men entered,
headed by a sergeant. It was Simon,
the cordonnier, a name which good men
of every party will always vow to infa.
my, for he was the murderer of the poor
boy whom the history of France desig.
nates at Louis XVII. 'Good day,
citoyen,' said he surlily, for there was
no sympathy between the Cordelier
and the Jacobin. 'I search thy rooms
but as a matter of form. Thou art
said to bd civic.' 'Known to be almost
as civic as thyself,' repli,,d Seneca,
smothering his ire for the sake of the
two trembling women. 'And these two
women thou can'st, of course answer for!
continued Simon, eyeing thom suspi.
ciously-'they look ferrement like ars
tocrats.' 'Take care, citoyen Simon,'
said the officer, 'my friends are not in
sulted with impunity. Thou wilt ask
me next for my carte de civisme.'
'And why not, citizen?' sneered the
cobbler. 'Because thou could'st not
read it,' replied the lieutenant. The
8anit-culottes roared with laughter, while
the cobbler looked furious. 'Arrest
them,' lie cried, foaming at the mouth.
The sans-culottes laughed again. - Sen
eca was their commander, and despite
his aristocratic reputation, much belov
ed. 'Nay, not this time, continued the
Secretary of the Sceovola club; 'but do
not hurt thy digestion, thou wilt find in
Paris plenty of poor women and hepless
children of whom thou wilt not be
afraid.' 'Thou speakest of little Ca.
pet.' said the cobbler-'thou shalt see.
This night at the Cordelier thou shalt
be denounced. (toyens, I call ye to
witness lie has called Madame Veto 'a
poor woman,' and little Capet a 'help
less child.' 'Dost expect every body to
be as great a brute as thyself?' cried
a bully sans-culotte behind. 'The ci
t'oglcna Seneca is a good Republican, and
can afford to pity even our enemies.
Ile has given his proofs.' 'We shall
sec,' said Simon. turning away, pale
and furious; 'let thy aristocrates look
to it. I denounce the whole fournee
this evening.' And the Sergeant went
out, followed by his men, leaving the
three friends alone. The women would
have thanked Seneca, but lie hid not
from them that the danger was but
half over. 'The vindictive character
of Simon was well-known. ie would
surely denoiunce them, anid to be do.
nounce'l in those days wvas ahnest to
be condemned. Thme young mnain mov
edi abouit for some tine im considerable
ugitaition. '1 see hut one remedy,' hie
exclaimedl, sundenly turning to the
young, girl; 'we are all here in peril of
our lives. Recome my wife, anid no~ne
will have a word to say, the spouse of
Seneca Taithout will be above suspi
eion.' The mother anad child looked
wond~erstrucek. The Countess stain
meiredl somiething about their poverty
and1( misery. Not a word was said
about shortness of acquaintance, for
the acts of the young man had shown
his whole character. The young girl
bent her head and blushed. "Sit ye
both downm," said Seneca, g'ently, wvhiile
his~ (ye restedl ahfectonately on the girl,
"and liuderstand ime. I (10 not ask vou
to be my wife merely to save us all, but
because F am sure so good a child and
gentle a being must make any man hap
py. If ye are poor, I am rich, and are
we not cequally obligzed? I offer you a
comnfortabile honme, and obtain a lovely
wife." "And my daughter a noble
husband," exclaimed the poor woman,
fervently, forgetting the pride of birth
and rank, arid the undying hopes of her
caste', in the bright picture betore her.
T'he rest of the day was passed in con
versation, and before might the new
friends had beecomeo as well, acquainted
as if they had known one another for1
months. A t a late hour, 1:eneea left
them to the charge of his offceur, warn
ing them lIt should not return, having
to mnake pt-oparations for his weddin'g,
'The young man spent the night in cal
hing Otn four men whom he desired to bo
present at his noce. He tokd tho~rn the
exact truth, and~ as he- added "that'
though of an old and arIsfotlamily
they had livod' without i6%iialf6f
with abroad. on what they had sared. I
ind the labour of theih hatids-they all T
agreed to come. At 9 the next morn
ing, six men oitd tWbrWdri6n ere sea
ted at the-brakfabtt.t gbiodf8Sneca.
ailtbout.- 'The yh4 9i -W his
avife was nqatl eloe4,' and looked
sahmly hepg, whilet mo rnrooked
theisitor. rlh obe
1pierres, Leias" S. Just, And th4ig
strate who bad. united. them. She
sould not understand these terrible men
moming there to oblige a friend, and
iavo theia from destruction, norI could
she comprehend how they , could- sit lei
there and talk so doolly of the political a
Nifuirs of the day, while'desolation and ad
death was around--desolation and death ta
which she believed they could have of
stayed. The.marriage was of course
by civil contract, and the acte lay upon of
the table. Every now and then the ea
ax-countess woul take it up and then as
put it down again, for the signatures to
It almost made her doubt her own sani. n
ty. Presently a rude knock came to n
the door. 'Ile offiecux. hastened to ope
in. A commissary of olice, Simon,
md some dozei *ans-culottes entered,
grave and nearl angry. ."A pretty
batch," cried Simon, :laughing, "the
iarrant says. arrest Seneca Taithout
und all whom we find in his apartments."
ihe guests were seatedwith their backs pr
to the window, which was open, and in c
honour of the day, filled 4ith flowers th
None of those who had just entered di
could distinguish their faes. "Good f
say, Siimon," said Seneca, rising and t
br
idvancing towards him; "what pro.
cures me the satisfaction of thy visit?"
Citoyen,.' replied Simon, maliciously ax
"I warned thee yesterday. ; Our friend
the Commisary here, has an order from s
Fonquier-Tinville to arrest thee and all
who are found in thy habitation. tl
"CLitoyen Comissary," said Seneca,
calmly, "this fo1l6w deactinas ine V
because Ijtold 1im he' coul'd obtiead.". th
"It will teach thee to be'in siviI,"
sneered the cobbler.. 'Citoppene
ca,' put in the commissary, 'I a msorry
to arrest one who has always borne cso
good a character for civisi, but' my
orders are peremptory.' 'Citoyeni Cora
missary,' said, eneca, with a laug, W
I am sorry to disappoint thee, but the
only arrest that thou wilt make here, is ci
that of the citoyen. Simon, denounced if
as having falsely iiused a good ditoyen i
to secure his private revenge.' 'I?, F
thundered Simon, furious at the other's
coolness. 'Ay,' exclaimed St. Just, o
ising with his three colleagues of the T'
Comite ie Salut Public, and speakingT
in his soft, cold, thrilling voice; 'and let e
it teach others not to desecrate a duty
from vile motives. The country is in b
danger, and denunciation is necessary. b(
The moro need that knaves should not
abuse the right." The aspect of the
whole official party on finding them
selves in presence of the most influen- P
tial members of the executive power,
'fl
was truly ludicrous. The sane-cullot- b
tes, it is true, smiled, for they were
now sure of their favourite officer's ci
vism; but Simon stood as if annihilated,4
with open mouth and pallid cheek,
while the commissary felt his legvs
quiver under which lhe and his compan. g'
ions signed, while on a white sheet they ?"
wrote the committal of Simon. This
dlone, they waved the party away. The
commissary, glad to get off' so cheaply,
pushed Simon out by the shoulders, to
the delight of the eans-cullottes, whoa
screamed with laughter as soon as the E
door was shut, and the marriage party a
remained alone. "Many thanks, citi.
zens," said Seneca, advancing to him, n
"count on one devoted friend to ye all, a
and the chose pubilique." "May thy
marriage be happy," said Lebas, with ~
a sigh, "and now good-bye. We niust
g'o to theo Tuillornes, our committee.
meets at 11." The- four principal h
rulers of France bowed to the ladies
after a fe w words of comfort, and then
went ont to their terrible work, to drive
back Europe, to create armies---to ai
crush insurrection-to keep down civiln
wrar---to strug 'Ie---to triumrsh-to fall-- S
to perish, ancitc die.
THE CHOLERA. a
The ravnigen of' the Chlr tSiam.f
lhe East Indies, according to the last Eu. P3
ropeun papera, are beyond mnessuro dread. tri
ul. A bout 20,000 persons have fallen thm
kictimR to it. So great was the number gt
fdeathsu that they foundl it inipraditicable th
o burn them all, and mnbmy were buried, oh
md multitudes wecre thrown bito the rivor sh
ust un they had! died.. They were hrouglht
ipd laid in piles and funl applied,'-whwiV
hey were consumed liko benpyofde
n three days not heis-thrnm frem9
300 died dail etmd att~
maysi Faigk> nii
The vnciente
'tateiniiosli'
too jolly) ho is tli mismt
e.hyena thtt 0',
lAbe Is Jasi s s d
Ire, 'herenev yq t
it was not a p
air. No noW, gsulQ
gqta percha, o ihf
Duld think of geing t a
e than two pocket hand
d, even then a si.g . . .
apted to the, 'joyful occabed
e wives sthey do p1i 'J
water, exceptingr-in dr
tle things' are well gilt.
matrimonial barometer wer,.)4
ah family, and. a daly ai t
to the state of the weathen o
e-side accurately registe'ed, *0 lia
doubt that on the average b Sel
the following results would bief
at:
BEFoRE MAiRAON
AFii NR kilAR:AG
eteorologically - a i: g. Is
hly interesting could )o arrm"
owledge of the exactiamount Oft
evailing during courtuhip. W,.
n feel more truly wretched than 0eU
a happiest day of-his life. * Wed
ag is even nio melancholy t
neral. -lie bride w~iepe for
ing and nothing At
oken because j W,
a and Thai tjien .because . p
td trusts Charles 'dl al .w -
tr; and, when no otherc.e eft
o bursts into tears becasobeO's aa
will not. bring the tAng WlshITFn
amma, ttoo,isdetermined f
e leait tliitig 4 Iedelq d
oing'ray, and-he-is a
ing dreadifulIs about, 0
.onesgracin hfr t
ok the dnSgr.oo
ne and' plafw Owli
range tr.esnenius he
urch the water islaid on an
pe ; indeed the whold VaIQty tV
retched, no one would imagine th
is a- 'happy pair' amontiwt'.
hen Papa gives aaW a I
zid, he does it with na
he were hatiding hei' ori,4t4
St polygainist 1since or
ighth-instead of besto~ln, A
e who loves his lab I
e 'mint' sauce thatone auie
lie bridegroom stihvels,he W'"
ying's catching, or b6eaited
i ought, for decency'sa'ti
-eply moved; ' and t Q
idesniaids are sure to be all weepIPg,
.cause every bodY else weeps. W
C party return bome, Iot
oughts .of the l&eakfast
a little; and the brides-ma -A
irticular, feels quite resignedno
te. As:if they had growu g
r crying, or the tears- had
cir appetites-they,,dir' Aheiren
r a while in the'w~hite dopiturce.''
he chamipagne~ goes 'off1 and 6s
und. * Then tb~hi '
ts up, and cafte li sort anid Iwdo
ilogium .uyon the virtues of .thpt
weet girl' whomn ho d!oves as bis n t
~sh and blood,''thumps the tablentxa
ils the company that 'any estrI*
ould not treat hlereproperly would
'esent turns r'onid to lookc arid frw~
the wretched villainof a iri6~
id then they all fall to ie~~~4Ih
ut so strongly has the fcoen st I'
;ninst the new eon-in4y,. s'Ii
ily by a speech full of thQ -deepes
Lthos, that lhe cnn porsuadethe em
my that he has not the leasta thuh
murdering, or indeod oendasaW
his wife.. At- lat, the 1b~e~(
'ide, anid bridesmaids -retire ato .r
ood-bye,' and have a goodf 10-fl~
ther up stairs. Then the ~J~
d the weeping kegidgRn
wed vigor. As at Vanbd l tbA
em to keep the grandest s4~~' '%
e last. 'The bridesmaids ~l~
ses are quito'red4 and their
iaight as if thiey had been 14hI
pair to leve, in orde t2
or, sisters, brothor'e '
6om, brides-man 94 ~
a house, all ect ~-ov
I cpokwo.u
o1e~ ine