be sure there was joy and soft serenity up-
stairs in the palace bed-chambers as it was
talked over.
There were sweet tranquil
dreams. All would yet be well. We are
strong in the love of those dear French
hearts!

Four

An ugly twinge of recollection. days after, the savage fishwomen are storming the splendid palace. They are in the salons, the gardens, everywhere! And then followed the hot, dusty, weary procession to Paris. Then are brought back in triumph the baker, the baker's wife, and the baker's boy. Little Dauphin wonders why they should call him a baker's boy.

TABLEAU SECOND.

now upon the writer's shelves-appears a print of this crossing of the Carrousel; coming out within a week of the transaction, as it might be a cut in the Illustrated Paris News. The king has a round " wide-awake" hat and a lantern, the ladies have the pillow-shaped bonnets and pelisses of the time, and the fiacre is seen waiting in the archway with its letter and number conspicuous, "L 16."

one), and her governess, played by mamma, and a lady's maid, and a valet, performed by papa. At any other time we might laugh. See, papa has even a passport, with the baroness' name. (We are told that paper is to be seen to this day; that official document, with the round letters tumbling backwards, and the official writing and the seal, and Louis' own signature.)

When our little prince opens his eyes again, they are in the huge berline, rumbling and creaking over the rough stones of some highway leading from Paris. It is very dark, and the tall trees lining the road flit by like spectres. Driver's whip is heard cracking loudly, and we roll and totter forward at a great speed. No wonder; we have six postVery often he must have been back again, ing-horses attached. Are we indeed going on that hot June day- twentieth of the to act a comedy? For here, crowded tomonth-when he and his little sister no-gether inside, are the Baroness Korff and ticed that papa and mamma were whispering, her two daughters (of which you, Aglaé are and seemed agitated; and the confidential ladies flitted to and fro, and whispered secretly with their majesties. Sharp, penetrating child as he was, we may be sure he put many penetrating questions to that sub-governess of his, and lady in waiting, who took them out for their five o'clock evening walk. Then, that strange awakening at eleven o'clock, when the lamps were all lighted, and his drowsy eyes scarcely able to keep open, saw the room full of people, and faces bending over him, and his dear mamma, hurried and agitated, in a travelling-dress. The good Madame Brunier whispers that he is to get up, for they are going a journey, and he is to be very still, like a dear child, for mamma. And here is a little girl's frock of brown calico, which he is to put on-no matter why, he will be told another time. No wonder he thinks, "They are going to act a comedy." No matter, he will hear all about it in the morning; and now he is so dreadfully sleepy that he lets his head drop on Madame de Neville's knees, who has sat down on the stairs, and is dreaming in a moment.

Here is the cool night air and here are the stars, and we are in the Carrousel court. What does it all mean? Here are the sentries challenging-and here is the street. Where are we going? Hush, little Aglaé (strange rechristening that!). So he turns round, and in a moment is again asleep on the lady's shoulder.

Sleep again! Was there ever such a long night? So chilly, too—such a sense of weary protraction! Now, indeed, we are roused by roar of voices, and lanterns flashing in at the windows, and fierce, scowling faces looking so angry, and we can see, too, that mamma is very pale and frightened. It is midnight by the church clock of this little country town that looks so strange, and here we are all getting down, and enter a mean house. Soldiers, crowds, lights, guns, bells ringing, roar-what does it all mean? But we drop off to sleep again, in a corner of the room, for we are very tired, and wake up next morning back again in Paris with the sun shining, at the very gate of the Tuileries. Still in the great coach, but despair in mamma's and papa's faces! A horrid, feverish night that we must never think of!

TABLEAU THIRD.

;

Again roll away the black dungeon walls and here are lights, and flowers, and scenes, and gallery over gallery, and a whole sea of

In an inflammatory journal of the time-faces turned upwards and looking towards

when the waters recede slowly, and the palace is at peace. Close, in a disordered sequence, follow other terrible days: this rousing of him at midnight by beating of drums and tocsin, and the great bells ringing far and wide over Paris, as for fire, and the

the royal box. This night has the king and queen and little prince visited the French comedy. They are playing a piece with a strangely significant title, Unforeseen Events and from the front of this box the pretty child of six years looks down and laughs and makes his remarks. No doubt the burr and mur-woman rushing in and dressing him hurmurs abroad, the fierce insolent figures, so free with their bold speeches and deportment, who cluster in mobs at the palace gates, and speak to his mother as "the Austrian," are beginning to weigh upon his little soul and puzzle his brain. But here, tonight, was a strange scene: a house crammed from floor to ceiling, a parterre densely packed, rising to cheer their majesties. Hats and handkerchiefs waving! Half a dozen voices groan a protest, but are overpowered and driven out by the loyalists. Hark to the comic valet and the soubrette, who are at the foot-lights singing couplets in praise of their master and mistress up-stairs. "Ah!" they join in the burden :

"Surely we must make them happy!

Surely we must make them happy! and the pit is on its feet cheering and vocifeating"Yes! yes!"

Something very sweet in this night of romance-the lights, the music, that delicious rapture of our subjects-to send us home with tears of joy. Royal mamma and papa, supremely happy, dream that all may yet be well.

TABLEAU FOURTH.

The horrid day of the twentieth June, when the red-capped "breechless" poured in with pikes, and flooded the palace-he would shut that out, if possible-when there was the crash of doors broken in, and the royal lady, clutching him to her arms, is hunted from chamber to chamber-sliding panels secret passages-and a howling mob outside!-when, too, a table was drawn in front of her as a feeble barrier against the frantic human waves pouring in at the door. A roar, and the vile red cap is upon that noble lady's flowing hair: another roar, and a cry of "Little Veto!" and that decoration is upon his own head! Pikes flourish in the air, wild women come up to his mother and shake their closed fists in her face. Savage men gather round him and question him, and he gives them his quaint answers. So it rolls on, wearily, anxiously, until night,

riedly. Not without a shudder can he think of that awful daybreak. The messengers hurrying in with news that all is lost, and the king must die, and of that sad procession when he was carried in the grenadier's arms, and heard the air rent with the cries "Death to the tyrant!" As he looks back over the grenadier's shoulder, he sees the smoke from the windows, and through the smoke the scarlet coats of his father's Swiss, and cannon lumbering by him with fierce men in blouses and the eternal red cap, tugging them on with ropes. Then the interminable day, cramping in the little box in the Assembly, with myriads of hostile faces glaring on them, the stifling overpowering heat, the shots outside, the periodical eruption of savage men, all smirched and bloody, their hands full of rich gold and silver, plundered from papa's palace. But it comes to an end, think of; and then the black pall rolls its like other long weary days we shudder to dismal folds over all!

We are most of us familiar, by aid of Valet Cléry's touching narrative and M. Duchesne's researches, with the stages of that martyrdom of the little St. Louis. We know the minutest details of that frightful persecution, the degradation of mind and body, that masquerading in the red cap, that drugging of him with strong spirits, that forcing upon his innocent tongue vile strect songs and licentious ballads. Nay, there are yet to be seen those shaking trembling signatures, wrung from him by a fearful terrorism; and even the tailor's bills, for furnishing" the son of Capet" with "striped Pekin" waistcoats, and the "ells of superfine cloth" for a coat. These little records, like Mr. Filby's bills, recovered for us by Mr. Forster, touch us more than volumes of description. We may follow the steps of his sufferings, with a minuteness unparalleled in the history of jails. We have a secret yet unsubstantial trust that there has been some exaggeration. We take one glimpse at that piteous picture, which some

The end and a happy delivery came speed- find repose.

From Chambers's Journal.
SCIENCE AND ARTS FOR JULY.

many published works sufficiently testify; among which, Dr. Bruce's volume on The GLORIOUS Summer weather has been fa- Roman Wall, and the handsomely illustrated vorable to floral exhibitions; and whatever books on Roman Camps and Stations in there may be of art or of science in the cul- Northumbria, brought out at the cost of the ture of flowers, has had full exemplification, Duke of Northumberland, are especially reduring the past few weeks, in the Royal Gar-markable. We know, moreover, what has dens at Kew, the newly opened Gardens of been accomplished by Rawlinson and Laythe Horticultural Society, and the Botanic ard, and by Dr. Hincks of Dublin; and that Garden in the Regent's Park. Rhododen- the subject is not exhausted, is proved by the drons in full bloom under a tent are very broad folio volume of cuneiform inscriptions beautiful; but some people prefer the dis- just published by the Trustees of the British play of magnificent foxgloves in Kensington Museum.-The Academy of Berlin are pubGardens. A curiosity of vegetation was lishing a collection of the inscriptions of the shown at the closing meeting of the Linnæan Roman empire, going back to the first years Society-tall tassels of silica growing from a of Christianity. lump of petrified sponge. The tassels are composed of slender threadlike stalks, springing from a sheath, beautifully transparent, and so light, that they tremble like gossamer at the slightest movement. It is a remarkable instance, so to speak, of mineral vegetation.

The Royal Academy of Sciences at Munich have lately put forth a series of works on the earliest discovery of America, printed from heretofore unnoticed originals, and accompanied by large maps, which curiously exemplify the geographical knowledge of the time in question. And there has been printed in New York, a translation of a rare and re

or '95, written by Nicolo Scillacio, a Messinese, on the second voyage of Columbus to America. Little by little our knowledge of that great discovery widens.

The "Surrey side" of London is making a demonstration in favor of establishing a mu-markable tract, which first appeared in 1494, seum within its own limits, as a means of education for that division of the metropolis. Government is to be asked to give £10,000, and twice as much more to be raised by contributions. We shall be glad to hear of the success of the project; but let us remind the promoters, that something more is needed besides a proper house, and a collection of noteworthy things, natural or artificial; which is such a spirit of management as shall best accomplish the object in view the diffusion of useful knowledge.

Now that Professor Max Müller's Lectures are published as a book, readers at a distance, who had not the privilege of hearing them delivered, will be able to acquaint themselves with the present condition of the science of language, and a highly interesting branch of study. Perusal of the Lectures will discover to many a significance and importance in words which they were never before aware of.-A professorship of epigraphy and Roman antiquities has just been established at the College of France by command of the emperor. It is only of late years that the study of inscriptions has become a real science; and if as a science it can be turned to the advancement of knowledge, then the new professor may do some good. The study has now its principles, rules, and methods, as

Captain Jervois, commandant of the military convalescent establishment at Yarmouth, has delivered a lecture at the United Service Institution on Recreations as a means of health for the army, showing the deterioriation, bodily and mental, brought on by want of sufficient occupation, and the benefits arising from rational means of recreation. He advocates the introduction of recreation-rooms in all barracks, hospitals, and camps, with dominoes, draughts, chess, billiards, and other games, excepting cards, and in these rooms he would allow the men to smoke and have tea and coffee. At Hong-kong in 1851, and at Yarmouth in later years, he has found the most favorable results follow from offering to the men a resource which many were prepared to accept at once, and which many others preferred, after a little experience, to their usual dissipations. He would have recreation-marquees for troops in camp at home, or abroad on active service; and argues that though the marquees would be an additional burden, there would be a counterbalancing diminution of hospital baggage. The captain shows, moreover, that it is bad economy

to aim at producing cheap soldiers, inasmuch in so far as experiments have been carried as, like other cheap things, they soon become with a higher pressure than that of the atmosunserviceable. phere, it appears that the same law prevsils.

Certain medical men of Manchester have been studying the effect of atmospheric changes in another way,-namely, the influence of the changes on disease, and they find a marked relation between the fluctuations of health in that great town, and the rise and fall of the barometer, and increase or decrease of humidity. Fevers, and especially scarlatina, are most likely to prevail when the atmosphere is damp; represent diarrhoea by a curved line, and it immediately begins to ascend as the thermometer rises above 60°, mounting rapidly with increase of heat, and immediately sinking as the temperature falls below 60°. The reverse is shown in diseases of the lungs and throat; in these cases, the curve rises as the temperature falls. Thus far, the inquiry only confirms popular theory on the subject; but there is no doubt that if all the meteorological elements were embraced, and the inquiry carried on over large districts simultaneously by competent observers, who would compare the state of public health with the prevalent winds, the electric

Another lecture, On an Improved System of Ship-building, delivered by Mr. G. R. Tovell, at the same Institution, will commend itself to merchants and persons interested in navigation, for it shows that speed and capacity for stowage are possible, and have been accomplished. Accepting Mr. Scott Russell's proposition, that "a good ship should have the easiest form to go ahead, and the most difficult to get to leeward," Mr. Tovell takes the salmon's head and shoulders as the model for the "forebody" of his ship, and the hinder part of the swan for the "after-body;" and it is found in practice, that while the circular form gives great strength-there being little or none of that creaking noise usual in ships-a vessel built on the improved system will behave better in a gale of wind, and sail faster in any weather, than a vessel built on the ordinary system. When deeply laden, the improved vessels sail better than when light, for the reason that they are then longer at the water-line, and that below the water-line, no portion of the timbers is straight. Straight-ity of the atmosphere, and its chemical conness in the sides of a ship, says Mr. Tovell, "is a hindrance to speed." Moreover, besides firstrate sailing qualities, and ability for scudding or lying-to, and other operations appreciated by mariners, the improved vessels cost less than others to build, because "they require less curve in their timber, less labor to bend the planks into shape, and no steam for the bending." The captain of the Laughing Waters, a swift ship, reports: "I can, now I am used to her, make her do any thing but speak."

dition, and with the rain and amount of moisture generally; if this were done, results of importance to sanitary science would not fail to be arrived at. Those readers who wish for more information on this subject, may find it in a paper by Messrs. Ransome and Vernon, published in the Memoirs of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester,

At the last meeting of the Geological So[ciety, a paper was read by the Rev. R. Everest, "On the Lines of Deepest Water Dr. Frankland has been investigating the around the British Isles," in which, by traceffects of atmospheric pressure on flame, car-ing the several lines of soundings, he shows rying out a course of experiments which may be said to have been begun on the top of Mont Blanc in 1859, by observing that a candle burnt at that elevation consumed less of its substance, and was less luminous than when burnt at Chamonix. In his trials with coalgas, he finds that a quantity of gas which gives a light equal to that of one hundred candles when the barometer marks 31°, yields the light of eighty-four candles only when the barometer falls to 28°. Hence we see that ordinary atmospheric fluctuations have a noticeable effect on illumination; and,

that the Isles constitute an unequal-sided hexagonal figure, while the lines around Ireland represent a pentagonal figure; and so on, giving other examples from smaller isles. He finds, moreover, some relation between these lines and present geological phenomena, such as dip and other characteristics of strata; and is of opinion that shrinkage is the cause of the special features in question. In England, as also in some continental countries, there are appearances as of " huge polygons broken up into small ones, as if the surface of the earth had once formed part of