The Sumter banner. (Sumterville, S.C.) 1846-1855, January 09, 1850, Image 2
- - AM~ -1 - 1 4
, .A I'M,
WILIA 3* FANISDEVOTED TO SIOUTHERN RIGHlTS, DEMCAY NES LITRATURE CEC A"1 UI~
MANUEL Al. NUI _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 2
VOL1' -0.L SIJTERVILLE,1 So Ce JANUAIRY 9pi5
Extracts from late
Publications.
TERRORS OF THE
FRENCH REVOLUTION.
We present our readers with the fol
lowing extracts from a late English
publication entitled "Tales of the First
French Revolution." The work has
not been republished in this conutry.
To the first story of the book is entitled
"P asional Visits of Le Docteur No.
i r, an d the scne of the medical ge_,n- I
tlemen's tale, as related by himself, is
principally laid in the prison of 6t.
Lazaro, at Paris; a prison, that, during
the terrible dominion of Roberspierre,
was kept crammed to sutlocation by the
members of the aristocracy and others
who had been denouncel to the Coin
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 soine of his former
elegant and high-born patients, those
whom he had been accustomed to visit
in their lordly mansions, but who, by
the turn of events. had since become
the occupants of a foul and disgusting
prison. Amongst other beaitifiul and
noble ladies confined within its wails,
was the young and love Duchess of St.
Aignan, and the Doctor thus relates the
particulars of his painful interview
with his interesting and unfortu nate
patient
A YOUNG MOTHER.
As the turnkey opejpcd the door sid
denlv, 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 wasal
ways taken by surprise with one thing,
to which I never could accustom myself,
and that was the pet feet grace and dig
nity of4 r demeanor, her calmness,
her gen Cl resigna tioni, her angelic pa
tience, and her sweet and wonauily
modesty. There was that in her, so
rare an( so exquisite, which commands
respect and submission, without ever
exacting it; and oven her downeast eyes
were of a power irriesistable. At this
moment she was, however, a little dis
Co:cerned at our sudden intrusion; but
e soon reccvered her dignity and
com11poslre. Her cell was very small,
and at this time of the year burning hot,
exposed as it was to the southern sun,
and in Ttermid->r, which I assure you,
was sultry as any July you have ever
been acquainted with. The only means
Madame de St. Aignan had to protect
herself, in some dlegree, from the fierce
rays of the stun, which fell full upon the
littlie apartment was to hang her shawl,
before the window; it was the only arti
cle of dress of that sort which she had
been allowed to k ee p. T1he driess she
ladl on was of the simpIlest; but it was
an (venling dress, and with short sleeves;
it ht have been a ball-dress. She
ro up blushing, with a slight "'E,!
m'n Dien!I" and for a moment the
tears stood in her eyes; but seeing I
wa-s alone, she recovered herself immne
diately, and throwing over her shoul
cis a sor t of shor t, white dressing-grown,
ich lay near, she sat down upon the
edge of her bed, offering me a str-aw
chair, the only other ar-ticle of furniitur-e
in her pr-ison. I perceived that one of
her feet was bare, and that she had
on ler- hand a small, delicate, open
black silk stocking, wvhich she
' ig. 'Good heav'ens !' cried
d only given mec a hint'
teen did as much !' sid
iled sadly, as slie r aised
a into one of mournful
arked upon that no
deep and solemn
a new to mre, and
o its usual mnelan
sit down I' said she
', and with a cer
ier voice, 'Since my
made known, thanks
yo'-'Enough en
iterrupting her; 'I hate
have a reprieve,' conti
lie tumbr-els will come as
onary tribunal.' Ioer
uponi the windowv, ther-o
entavy w.Udness in them.
~brels ! the dreadful tumbrels!'
'Their wheels, shako the
to thoir foundations.
kes me shudder.
olr thie arch
how slowv and
his I they are
r' tlpir, l9 ul, of
rcen. hs.2ims
iven me the intelligence. Poor Rose!
ihe has a sweet voice; it is a consola
ion to us all to hear it singing below
ur windows, even when it is to an
ounce tidings greivois such as these.
Poor little thing !' She was silent a
noment, passed her hands across her
Ves, struggled a little for composure,
1;d1 thenl resuming her own noble and
youfiding air-:-'What I wish to ask
iou,' said she, resting the ends of her
ingers upon my black coat sleeve, 'is,
o find Inc the means to preserve my
)oOr ullborn child from the influence nf
iese horrors. these sufferings. I am
i terror ihr it, poor little being. You
neii-even you, physician as you- can
lever know the p'ridc and tenierness
which fills a woman's heart at such a
noient !' She raised her eyes to
leaven. 'Good heavel ! what a divilne
:error ! what fresh and continued as.
-onishment ! Another heart beating
ivithin my own ! An innocent, angelic
spirit, in union with my own harrassed
mld agitated being ! A double myste
rioulif Ie and sympathy, known and
shared by mne alone ! But to think
Lhat iy agitation is. perhaps, intense
ilfering to this tender, invisible erea
ture-that my terrors are of this, I
-lare hardly breath !-I (are hardly
think-I am afraid to move-I am
:i'raid of my own thoughts-I reproach
myself with my love, with my hate-I
Jare not he agitated-I treasure my.
self as if I were asaint-I do not know
where to turn-this is how 1 fell.' She
looked as an angel as she thus spoke,
with a sort of divine terror and anxiety
in her large eyes. 'lleip me, doctor!
Furnish mei0 with some idea that I can
keep fixed here, in my mind,' looking
earnestlv. 'Save mefrom injuring
-hild. You are sorry for me; I see you
Ire. You know, alas ! that it is all in
vain; nothing can harden our poor
earts; they will hurry, pause: tremnble;
>I, they will! And what will be the
ate of my child ?' 'ilowever,' said
Ie, alter a pause, and letting her beau
iful head fa4ll with an air of despondein
,y upon her bosom, 'one thing is cer
ain. It is my duty to carry this poor
ittle creature to the day of its birth,
vhich will be the eve of that of my
ny death. I am only allowed to re
nain oil earth for that. I am the frail
shell whieh surrounds the precious fruit,
un1d which will he broken as soon as that
is disclosed. I am nothing else ! No.
hin1g else now, doctor ! But do you
tlink'-laying hold of, and pressing
Lily hand-do you think they will let
ne see it ?-Do you think they will let
t be with e ljust fur a few hours after
t is born ? 11 they were to take and
kill me directly it wouildii be very Cruel,
wouildi't it ?--Olh ! if they only give
ne ti:ic to hear it cry--to kiss it and
Jurse it just through one day-I think
I could forgive them all the rest; I do
si excessively long for that one hour !'
I could only press her hands; I could
rmly bend down and kiss them with a
sort of religious reverence. I could
not speak, aind was afraid to interrupt
hiet. She smiiled through her tears,
writh tire sweet radiant smile of a pretty
womfani of twoc-andtwenlty, and then she
went on.--'I always faney that you
knowv every thing-that I have only to
say wihyv! and you have an answer ready.
Now, tell me, wvhy is a womnen more a
muother thani she is any thing else i
friend1, daughter, wvife even--less vain,
less delicate, perhaps less rational, thain
is her nature ? That a child, who is
yet as nothring, is every thinig ? that
those living already are less than it ?
T'hiis is very unjust ? But so it is!
W~hy) is it so ? I am angry with my
self.' 'Gently ! gently !' said 1. 'You
have a little f'ever. You speak too
q~uick and too hurriedly. Gently.' 'Ah,
lleaven !' cried she, 'and I shall never
nourish it at my breast !' Anid, turn
ing sudde~nly away, she flung herself
npon the little bed, and, burying her
race ini the counterpane wept bitterly.
11cr heart was overflowing.
The Physician's servant, or rather,
ais they were dlenoinrated ini those lev
elling days, his asso'i<', Blaireau, was
a thorough Republican and staunch
friend to the sovereignty of the people;
le, therefore, had considerable influ
nce with the ruling authorities, and
m~anaged eleverly to purloin from a
L3ommissalry whno was readhing the (leatih
warrants of several prisoners, a list, up.
mn whieb, amunongst the names of othier
parties whom lhe knew his master was
lesirous of si.ving, was that of Madame
Deo St. Aignan. The following thrill
ing scene took place in a wretched
partment of St. Lazare. In the cen
tre of' this room was placedl a large dirs
ty woodeni table, with food of the coar
ost description thrown upon it, and
arounidthis table were. seated some~ of
the membc r', mr ad foiuale ofth
proudest families in France:
THE DEATH WARRANTS.
At this moment a heavy, lumberig
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 tumbrels. 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 -hoarse voice of lafenmme Si
mon. No morement, no answer; we all
remaindd as if fixed in the posi
tion in which we hiad first heard that fa
tal roll. We are like the families of
Pompeii and Herculaneum, surprised
by death in the very attitude they
were! 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 friendly intercommunuion of
a few hours-to have taken them from
their dreariness and their solitude to
enjoy 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 rouqes, and armed
with pikes. These last rushed in tit
tering cries of'joy, and clapping their
hands as at a paitomine. ihat they
saw struck even them----the slaughterers
'ell back abashed before their victims,
for, recovering immediately from their
first sentiment of dismay and astonish
ment, contempt gave them courage to
meet this supreme moment. They felt
themselves 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 led off the
person mentioned. IHe was gi ven in
charge to the mounted gyens d'arines
outside, and immediately placed upon
one of the tumbrels. The accusation
was, that of conspiracy in prison against I
the sovereign people, and planning the
assassination of the members of the
committee de salat public. The first
person accused was a woman of eighty
years of age, the abbess of Monmartre.
Madame de Montmoirenci. She rose
with some diffieulty, and, when she
was standing, saluted all preseit 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 thmey know not what they do!'
A mournful silence ensuedl. It was
interruptedl by the shouts and screams,
which announced that she had made
her appearance among the populace
outside, and a shower of stones struck
against the walls and windows. Ini thme
midst of the noise I could distinguish
the explosion, now and then, of fire
airms. There were moments when the
y/ens d'a(rmes8 could scarcely preserve
the prisoners from being massacred.
'The appeld continued. TJhe sec-ond
names was that of a youngi~ man of t wen
ty, M. de Coateral, if' I remember right,
who wvas accused of having a son, an
emigrant, bearing atmis against his coun
try. Thec accusedl was not eveni mar
ried, lie burst out laughing, lie
pressed the hands of' his friends, and
went out. T1he same shouts and elat
ter' of stones. A mournfmtul silence round
the tabile; all waiting thme sentence of
death at their post, ats soldiers expect
the fatal bullet. As soon as a prisoner
went out, his plate was cleared away,
and those who remained closed their
ranks, as ini a battle, smiling sadly at
their' new neighbours. Andre Chenier
was still standhing by Madame do St
Aignman, and I was near them. As in
a shipwreck thme crew gathier instinctive
ly round the .one who possesses the
highest courage and ener-gy, so the
prisoners collected gvrad ually r'ounmd
this young man, IIe stood, his arms
crossed, and his eyes raised to H eaven,
as if' in apostrophemI. 'Did 1Ueaven look
on, and would niot take their part ?'
Mademoisello de Coig'ny, standing at
the other enud of the room, saw, at eye
ry successive appel, the circle of her
Itrotector-s diminish, till at length she
was left alhmost alone. Then shte slowly
advanced, suppor ting herself upon the
edge of bthe noew empty table, till she
came to where we were sitting, anrd
p laced hierself at a little distance, ,tp
king shelter, poor forlorn chidIa it
-wero, undnr thn shndoae urw. ..
tier noble 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 sobbing upon her bosom. The
rude and pitiless voice of the commissa
ry contidued the appel. , The ian I
ecemed to take pleasure in prolonging
iuspcnso and suffering. lie proiounc
Dd the baptismal names in a slow, af.
Fected, drawling manner, dropping out
iyllable after syllable; then suddenly
flosing with the family name. It was
ike the fail of the axe. Ile swore rude
ly at the prisoners as they passed him,
i preface to the cries and hiuses outside.
lie was heated with wine, and could
hardly keep his lege. While the m.an
was reading, I observed close behind,
and crouching down almost under tis
arm, a women's white cap, and above
this white cap, with its large tri-coloured
-ockade, the long thin face of a man,
who was tall euough to read the list
over the commissary's shoulders. It
was Rose and my artillery man Blaireau
Rose appeared gay and curious, like
her friends of the 1Hlle, by whom she
was surrounded. I felt that I detest
ed her. As for Blaireau, he had his
usual hair-sleepy, indifferent air; but his
uniform, I saw, gave him much consid
Dration among the bonnets-rougea and
oana-eulottea, with their pikes, whosur
rounded him. The list which the com.
missary was reading was scrawled up
on several different sheets of paper, and
the worthy commissarv seemed to have
some difficulty in deciphering them.
Blaircau advanced his head officiously,
as if to help him; taking off, at the same
time, his hat, which seemed to be in his
way. At that moment I saw, as I
thought, Rose stcop suddenly down, and
pick up a Folded parer 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
XVI. and his Queen were confined in
the prison of the temple. During the
Republican days of Ilobespierre, St.
Just, and the other celebrities of that
momentous era, there lived in Paris a
young and gay Frenchman, named, or
rather he had assumed the name of
Seneca Taitbout; for there was nothing
aristocratic in its sound. Although lie
contined to live in the same apartments,
and kept up the same style as during
the Mo:mareby, and had obtained the
nickname of ''hie 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 intimmate
friend of Robespierre. A rumour was
abroadl that a Royalis t conspiracy was
to break out, and forthwith a decree
was issued that at a certauin hour every
onle was to be withini dhoors, theiir paer
of civism were to be exaimiined, and
suspetedC~ aristocrats wereC to be senit t''
prison. Opposite to Seneca's house
resided a beautiful younug girl, whom he
knew to be a Royalis t by the crucifix
hung upon01 her waulh; and immediately
after- the puiblicationi of the decree lie
witnessed an agonizinig scene of gtief
between the girl arid an elderly had y
whom lie supposed to be her mother.
Ini a imomnent lie understood their posi
tions-conicealed Royvalists without pa
per -lhe de temiined to sa ve them, and
rushed across to their abode. i s con
jectures wer-e corr-ect, for- thec disguised
ladies wcire the C'ountess Meltucaux
and her daughter; they had flied from
their splendid maunsion. and~ hid them
selve-s in a humble lodging. Seneen
saves them in the following courageous
imanne r: -
TIIE. SEA RCII FOR ROVA LISTS.
An hour passed in conversation.
They aill noticed the dead stillness of the
Btreets. Not a soul was out, save scat
tcired senties guariniug theo houses.
And still the lugubriious dri-us heat.
Ne'ver wats such a scene hboire in tihe
capJital of a gr-eat country, Thell barri
oi's of the towun had been closed at 12
o'clock, and guar-ded by the agents of
the terrible Santerre. Pr-esently a
movqwcnt was hicard in the street.
Sondo~Aooked out. A dozen sana.eu-.
ofatee were going by, guarding haif as
many prisoners, f'our men andI two wo
men, whom, by the talk of tie soldiers,
twas clear had been corresponding
with emigrants. One of the pike-men
earried a bundle of lettim-s in his hand.
The Aristocrat' felt the blood chilled
-ound his heart, and turning back to
)is now friends he began to talk. He
iescribed the state of France, the tre
iendous position of the Republic,~ and
ound excuses not for the bloodshed,
>ut for the severity in other ways, and
le precautions taken. He told them
low desperate and calculating, men, by
ipending money, incited the ignorant
:o insurrection, and caused the death of
housands. le pictured the Comite do
Salut Public battling againsti half Eu
-ope without, and three parts of France
,vithin, and was continuing to speak to
3ager and wondering listenet, when a
inock came to the door, and the clat,
ering of swords was heard. The whole
)arty rose to their feet annihilated with
ear-Seneca for them, they for all.
But to keep the visitors waiting was
langcrous, and -The Aristocrat' rushed
o open. H1alf-a-dozen men entered,
eoaded by a sergeant. It was Simon,
ie cordon n ier, a name which good men
)f every party will always vow to infa
ny, for he was the murderer of the poor
>oy whom the history of France desig.
ates at Louis XVII. 'Good day,
-itoyen,' said he surlily, for there was
io sympathy between the Cordelier
md the Jacobin. 'I search thi- rooms
>ut as a matter of form. 'Lhou art
iaid to be civic.' 'Known to be almost
is civic as thyself,' replied Seneca,
unothering his ire for the sake of the
awo trembling women. 'And these two
,vomen thou can'st, of course answer for!
:ontinued Simon, c 'eing them suspi
yiously-' they look ferement like aris
orats.' 'Take care, citoyen Simon,'
laid the officer, 'my friends are not in
multed with impunity. Thou wilt ask
ne next for my carte do civiaere.'
And why not, citizen?' 'sneered the
:obbler. 'Because thou could'st not
ead it,' replied the lieutenant. The
W1a-culotte roared with laughter, while
the cobbler looked furious. 'Arrest
them,' lie cried, foaming at the mouth.
The trans-culottes laughed again. Sen.
ea was their commander, and despite
his aristocratic reputation, much beov
ud. 'Nay, not this time, continued the
Secretary of the Scoevola 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. (itoyens, I call yO 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 bily sans-culotte behind. 'The ci
foqen Seneca is a good Republican, and
can afford to pity even our enemies.
lie has given his proofs.' 'We shall
see,' said Simon. turning away, )ale
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 he hid not
fromz them that the danger was but
half over. TIhe vindictive character
of Simon was well-known, lie would
surely denounce them, anid to be de
Inounlced' in those days was almost to
be c'ond~emnled. The young man mov
ed atbout for- some time in Considerable
a gi tartion. 'I see but one remedy,' lhe
exclaimned, sundenly turning to the
young girl: 'we are all here in peril of
our live's. R3ecomec my wife, and neone
will hiave a word to say, the spouse of
Seneca Taithout will be above suspi
ein.,'1'The mother and child looked
wonde~'rstrck. The Countess stamn
mnered something about their povorty
and miserr. Not a wor-d was saidl
about shortness of acquaintance, for
the acts of the young man had shown
his whole char-acter. 'The young girl
bent her head and blushed. "'Sit yec
both dlowni," said Seneca, gently, while
his eye rested aff'ectinately on the girl,
"andl understand me. I do0 not ask you
to bec my wife merely to save urs all, int
because I am sure so good a child and
gentle a being must make any man hap
py. if ye are poor, I am rich, and arc
wenot equally obliged? I offer you a
comnfortabile home, and~ obtain a lovely
wife." "Arnd my daughter a noble
husband," exclaimed the poor woman,
fervently, forgetting tire pride of hir'th
and rank, arnd the undying hopes of her
ca.ste, in the bright picture before her.
The resat of the (lay wae passed in con
versation, and before night the new
friends had beocomie as well acquainted
as if they had known one another for
months. A t a lato hour, Seneca loft
them to the char-ge of his ofticeur, warn
ing them heo should not return, having
to make preparations for his *cedding.
The young man spent the night in cal
ling on four men whom -he desired to be
present at his nwo. He tol4"them the
exact truth, anid as he added "that
though-of an old arnd arisoaiolyhD
they had livedh without abi~fi6Wef
ivith abroad. on what thou had naved,
and the labour of 4loit htihde.'-athey all
agreed to come. AVV. th' next -morn
ling, six men tied tk w Ott .werd, sea
ted at then otakdtialedSeneca.
Thithout. Tha bouhii 4 his
wife, was neaty . otted, an doked
calmly hWppy, whil As 1rjoked
with wonder and es" , ite ctrioity, on
thivisitorS. er0 the- WQ Ube.
spierres, LebsA, t. ust, and the Mag".
istrate who had united them. .-he
could not understand these terrible men
coming there to oblige a friend, and
save them from destruction, nor' could
she coinirehend- how they- could sit.
there and talk so coolly of the political
affirs of the-day, whil 'desolation and
death was around--desolation and death
which- she believed they could have
stayed. T'iemarriage was of course
by civil contract, and the acue lay upon
the table. Every iow. and then the
ox-countess would take it up and then
put it down again, for the signatuires to
it almost made her doubt her own sani
ty. Presently a rude knock came to
the door. The officz hastened to op
en. A commissary of police, Simon,
and some dozeii ans-culottes entered,
grave and nearly angry. "A pretty
batch," cried Simon, laughing, "the
warrant says arrest ISeneca Taitbout
and all whom we find in hisapartments."
The guests were seated with their backs
to the window, which was open, nd in
honour of tle' day, filled with flowers.
None of those who had just entered
could distinguish their faces. "Goodi
day, Simon, 'said Setieca, rising and
advancing towards him; "what pro
cures me the satisfaction.of thy visit?"
"6Cioyen," replied Simon, maliciously,
"I warned thee yesterday. . Our friend
the Commisary here, has an order from
Fonquier-Tinville to arrest thee and all
who are fotind in thy hibitation.
"Citoyen Conatnissary," said peneca,
calmly, "this fellow eiioindes me
because Itold him le Could oad."
"It will teach thee. .toW oe civil,"
sneered the cobbler. .'Citoyec Seie
ca,' pipt in the commissary, 'I na.sorry
to arrest one who has always borne so
good a character for 'civisin, but my
orders are peremptory? 'Citym Coim
missary,' said Seneca, with a laugh,
'I ain sorry to disappoint thee, but the
only arrest that thou wilt make here, is
that of the citoyen Simon, denounced
as having falsely acused a goad citoyen
to secure his private revenge.' 'I?'
thundered Simon, furious at the other's
coolness. 'Ay,' exclaimed St. Just,
rising with. his threo colleagues of the
Conite de 8alut Public, and speaking
in his soft, cold, thrilling voice; 'and let
it teach others not to desecrate a duty
from vile motives. The country is in
danger, and denunciation is necessary.
The more 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
tial members of the executive power,
was truly ludicrous. 'The sanS-cullt
tes, it is true, smiled, for they were
now sure of their favourite officer's ci.
vism; but Simon stood as if annihilated,
with opent mouthg and pallid cheek,
while the comamssary felt liis legs
quniver under which he and his compan
ions signed, while on a white sheet they
wrote the committal of Simon. This
done, they waved the party away. The
commissary, glad to get off so cheaply,
pushed Simon out by the shoulders, to
the delighmt of the eane-cullottes, who
screamed with laughter as soon as the
door was shut, and the marriage party
remained alone. "Many than 's, citi
zens," said Seneca, adrancing to hin,
"count on one devoted friend to ye all,
and the chose publique." "May thy
marriage be happy," said Lebas, with
a sigh, "and now good-bye. We niust
go to the Tiuilleones, our committee
meets at 11." TIhe four principal
rulers of France bowed to the ladies
after a few words of comfort, and then
went ont to their terrible work, to drive
back Europe, to create armies-to
crush insurrection-to keep down civil
wrar---to struggle---to triumrth-.-to fall
to perish, and t< dic.
THE CIIOLERA.
The~ ravages of the Cholera at Siamn.ii
the Eamst Indies, necording to the last Eu
ropean papersaere beyond mecasure dead
(ul. A bout 20,000 spersons have falle
victims to it. So great Was th6 flumher
oIf deaths that they ihudr itfmnptibbl(
to burn them alI,.and ninniy gre hurled,
and mnuhitudes were tlrmn into the river
just as they hanu1dled. They werm ropplt
and laid in piles and fuel spplietlinwhefr
they were consumed like bepgot'it~
in three diaya not leaurttm frem 200
3900,dled ,dailyg antt 1
dasit i&k inh
but has,b .ee otg
ths th ave died weredw hefg
est classes. y moreb w
prisonnt with hrd laborf stesa
&Th&I ant
n-"eEk inimot VO
r too jollyl he -iall Smiles
the hyena .thii th6 or
Iuj s h
ters. 'er vorel
titws nota a
gfair, No one, ti
ihouldtlhink of going a
less than two pocket' het d
wd, even then a e
idapted to the 'joyfil oc '
take wives as they do
)f water exceptinginde e
'little things' a're well gdt. Ed
>f matritmonial barotnetsi we
ach fatily, and ail*i
is to the state of the teathaeki6"
ire-side.accurately regiateoed ha
io, doubt that on the average
m the following re-duwllt d
d nt:
BEFoRE b'MAGU1AV
Drkixo 1161tiG .
AFBR MIARIAE -
,eteorologial.spea g. oa
iighly interesting t9uldWs arr it
cnowledge of the exact amotutt Pf'Ao
revailing during .courtship Robod
.an feel more truly wretched 'that, ot
he happiest day of lis life. A Wed'
ling is even more melat41nholytiiWP
U neral. The bride w 11 'for .
:ing and bothing "At
>roken liecausle she jii' e~ebt
SIa and i; theibeue she
wd trusts Charles "dl alway
ier; and, when n other e *xcs *35la
ie bursts into tears becauseihe'sOiJ
io will not bring the tAng with
Nlamma, too, is determlinettt t fo
the leait thitig, 4ei des?; d e I
gong-away, and she 'is 404W
thing dioeidful Is abtito
oones iaeota iho'9 ra e to.
ok the dinprooi r ' i'
wine and pat* op
gtrange tr mioziie tl tios
church thewater is lsid on
vice ; indeed the whole pat
wretched, no one would imamine the
was a 'happy pair' auf t6t: '
When Papa ives awy :
child, he does it with sIiinfy,
if he were hatiding hei q44k t
cest polygamist sinedI. r
Eighth.-instead of
one who loves his *atib, teg.rd v
the 'mint' sauce that.aooop h
The bridegroom shivels#,eite
crying's catching,-orbecaUei lie W
he ought, fo decency's sa1k to
deeply moved; * and thu half.4e-on
bridesmaids are sure to be all ep
because every body else weePs.> k
the party return home, hI
thoughts of the breakfas e
up a little; and the brides-aids
particular, feels quite resignad to'th
fate. As if tbeybadgito.A
by crying, or the tears; had
their appetites-they didkn lieira
for a while in th white soapfferueot,.t
The chtnipagno gds of~ and
round. *** Then thettt*
gets up, and hiftc~ sl Uhrl an at
eulogium upon the' irtues? f
'sweet girl,' whom he 'loves ashd
flesh and blood,' thumps the tabled' a.d
tells the company that 'any .on1O trIIdI
would not treat her, properly wnuld be
a scoundrel.' Upon tis every olin
p'resent turns round -to look at had
at the wretched villain-of a
and then they all fall to weepmg ak
But so strongly has the felm set t
against the new sdn-in~la ,Ab . 4
only by a speech full of the doet
pathos, that he cain persuade tle-~o
pany that lie has not thaesast~ gt
of murdering, or indeed even
ing his wife. At lost, the 1bt
bride, and bridesmaids retire te a~
'Good-bye,' and have a good 6r~ Mh
gether up stairs. Then Die l~
and the treeping in ~ ~ d
seem to keep the, gadest v~
the. last. The hrdesiaid~
noses are quit i~aed h f a
straightansif they had be
Arid hen' 't 9 es fN
pypahiito lev, in rde~ ~~t'
trainigt , (*tfie
h 'ns Si alIey'-eOe
ble~J iwb kao vr siere
trataned~f4 inte6~
)ws e. wed narpa