Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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I r WY j.F4 A.. 7, 1 fii 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