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became last year the rage-thousands of copies | glance in every direction, as if he had something were sold. And what did the author get for that most popular production? Here the orator pauses, and looks sternly about him. Presently he raises his arm, and, shaking it in the air, shouts, with the countenance of a roused fiend, "Trois francs!" After this burst, he proceeds, in a subdued voice, to describe his struggle. How he resolved to fight his hard battle bravely; and how, at last, stung by the neglect of publishers, he resolved to place himself in the streets, face to face with the Paris public. He knew that they reverenced poets. He believed that, while his muse was pure, he might appeal to them with confidence. They may judge by his language that he is no common impostor; and he confidently believes that the time will come when it will be a popular wonder that the known man once in that way sought a public in the streets of Paris. To that time he looks courageously forward; and only asks his audience to buy a number of his works which he has under his arm, and which may be had for three sous each, in confirmation of all he has said. And, forthwith, the poet bows to the crowd, who press about him to buy his works.

This last exhibition behind the Louvre sent me away, thinking seriously of the strange things to be seen in the by-ways of Paris, where few strangers penetrate. Indeed, these licensed street performers form a class peculiar to the French capital. Their ingenuity is as extraordinary as their knowledge of French taste and sentiment is truthful. From the prosperous pencil manufacturer down to the old man who carries a magic-lantern about the neighborhood of the Luxembourg every night, for hire, all the people who get their living in the streets of this giddy place are worth loitering in a by-way to see and to bear.

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Two gentlemen paced to and fro in the long aisle which skirts the north side of the building; they were conversing in subdued tones, and seemed to regard the cool, shady church as being well adapted for the purposes of a public promenade. One of them, who might be of the age of about fifty, was of robust frame, tall, and strongly built, with a countenance thoughtful and somewhat stern, but in which no single passion seemed to have left a trace. The other, of slender figure, and in the first bloom of manhood, whose handsome features were characterized by an expression the most intellectual and refined, turned his dark and almost feminine eyes with an earnest

of especial interest to communicate. It was the architect who had designed and superintended the decorations for the fête of the ensuing day. He had but recently completed his studies at Rome. His name was Giulio Balzetti. On a sudden the younger man stood still. "Marquis," he said, in that confidential tone which is used in addressing a person with whom one is in habits of daily intercourse—“I will impart to you-half in jest—a secret which, I believe, is known to no human being except myself. You have perhaps heard of the strange tricks which are sometimes played upon builders by that law of nature which regulates the transmission of sounds, and which modern science has denominated Acoustics'— played upon us, indeed, when we have the least reason to expect or deserve them. Through an every-day occurrence-by the merest accidentI was lately made acquainted with the singular fact that from this spot, on the very slab of white marble on which we are standing, the slightest whisper at the other extremity of the aisle-I mean in the last of the confessional boxes which you see is distinctly audible, though a person stationed on any other part of the intervening ground-how near soever to the place whence the sounds proceeded—would not be able to catch a single word. Remain where you are for a few minutes, while I proceed to the confessional which I have indicated—and you will indeed be wonder-struck by this extraordinary freak of Nature."

The architect hastened away; but he had not proceeded many paces, when the Marquis heard a significant whisper-the purport of which sufficed in an instant to agitate his whole frame with the most fearful emotions. He stood transfixed to the ground, as though he had been touched by a wand of enchantment-his features pale and rigid as the marble; while the extreme of attentiveness portrayed in his ordinarily tranquil visage betokened that some tidings of awful import were falling upon his ears. He moved not a limb; he scarcely breathed-he was like one standing on the brink of a precipice, in all the horror of an impending fall into the abyss-and his rolling eyeballs and visibly throbbing heart were the only signs of existence.

"The ex

Balzetti was now seen returning. periment can not be tried at present," he said, with a smile, before he had rejoined his companion. "The confessional is at this moment occupied, and as far as I could observe, by a lady closely vailed;-but, gracious heavens-Marquis what has come over you on a sudden?"

The Marquis pressed one finger upon his lips, in the manner usual with Italians, and continued in the same unmovable position. At the end of a few minutes he drew a deep sigh-the statue then became instinct with life, and stepped forth from the magic circle.

"It is nothing, my dear Giulio," he said, in his usual familiar tone. 66 Above all things do not imagine that I am superstitious; but, to speak candidly, the surprising and mysterious nature

of your communication has affected me in a way | taken up and then carefully spread out, while I can not explain. Let us be gone. I shall soon underneath he could discern the contour of a recover myself in the open air." As he spoke, human figure, which, to be as little observable he took the arm of Balzetti familiarly, and accom- as possible, was stretched at full length. panied him beyond the city gate to the public walk, when, after a few turns, the two gentlemen separated.

"We shall see you to-morrow, after the mony, at the villa," said the nobleman. well."

"I will sit down for a short time," said the Marquis, in a tone the most gentle and composed, "and feast my eyes at my leisure on this cere-master-piece of genius."

"Fare

At an early hour on the following morning the Marquis opened the door of the ante-chamber of his wife's apartment. At the same moment the femme-de-chambre, her looks betraying the utmost astonishment and alarm, entered the room by a door on the opposite side.

"Has your lady rung the bell?" asked the Marquis.

"Not yet, your Excellency," answered the girl, curtseying and blushing deeply.

As he uttered these words he took the large white pillow, profusely trimmed with Brussels lace, and deliberately placed it on the part of the bed on which he judged that the head of the intruder must be resting-then flung himself upon it with the whole weight of his stalwart frame, pressing at the same time with his right hand and with his utmost strength on the breast of the concealed author of his dishonor. Without seeming to be in the least degree aware of the convulsive death-struggles of his victim, the Marquis proceeded in unfaltering tones:

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How absolutely perfect is this work of art! "Then wait here until you are summoned," With what a chaste and dignified reserve the returned the Marquis, opening the door which led lovely penitent is striving to conceal her bosom from the dressing-room into the bedchamber. and snowy neck with her finely-moulded arms He was on the point of stepping within the latter, and long auburn tresses; while, with a tearful when his young and beautiful wife stood before glance of pious remorse, she gazes upward to him in a morning robe, hastily thrown on, as she the throne of mercy and forgiveness! One alhad risen from her bed. The Marquis paused- most becomes a poet in the contemplation of it might be in a momentary resistless transport such a master-piece! Alas! that I am without of admiration of her charms; but without betok- the gift of the Improvisatore! Lauretta, as I ening the least observation of her uneasiness-know not how to poetize on this inspiring theme, of the inward tempest which had already chased I will relate to you an incident which occurred the color from her cheek, and was yet more sen-yesterday. Our young friend, Giulio Balzetti, sibly manifested as her bosom began to heave accompanied me to the Church of La Maddalena, tumultuously beneath the snowy night-dress.

"You are up unusually early this morning, Antonio," she said, in a voice scarcely audible, and with a faint smile, blushing significantly at the same moment.

and as we were promenading in one of the aisles he made me remark a particular point of the floor, on which he requested that I would stand still, for from that spot, he said, I should distinctly hear a whisper uttered at the remotest part of the building. And, indeed, so it was! At the other point stands the confessional box, Number

I had scarcely stationed myself on the slab of marble which he had indicated to me, when I heard a whisper of angelic sweetness-whose whispered voice is known to Heaven above!— heard the fair penitent unbosom herself to the father confessor of her heart's pain and her little venial sins.

"Can you wonder, Lauretta, my heart's treasure," said the Marquis, in the most endearing tones, "can you wonder that I seek your pres-6. ence early and late? And yet, my beloved, the present visit has an additional object. You are aware that this is the fête of the Holy Magdalen, and that a grand ceremony will be solemnized in honor of the day. It has occurred to me that I might prepare myself for my devotions by the contemplation of that exquisite Magdalen of Guido which hangs in your chamber. May I venture?" he continued, with the extreme of deference in his manner, approaching the door slowly but with determination, as he spoke.

"She had a husband,' she said, 'whom she loved; yes, and he loved her in return-he was so kind to her-he allowed to her the utmost liberty-in short, she was disposed to do him justice-she would requite his affection as far "All is in disorder within," said the young as lay in her power-God help her! but, the wife, casting a hurried glance through the half-truth must be declared, she loved another.' She open door: "but go in for a few moments; I did not mention his name; it would have amused will meanwhile begin to dress in this room." me to hear it-some one of our handsome young "How beautiful!" he exclaimed, in a voice of cavaliers, no doubt. Well-she loved anothersimulated rapture. How bewitching is thisIt was impossible to do less,' she said; 'but disarray! These robes carelessly scattered she had room in her heart, she believed, for her about—these tiny slippers that protect and grace the most delicate of feet! There is a balminess in the air-something celestial and ecstatic. The spirit of poetry breathes around me."

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He fixed a scrutinizing glance on the bed, the silken coverlet of which appeared to have been

husband besides. He was so noble of soulso intellectual and refined-so handsome-she meant the other-so worthy to be loved. Then, he pressed his suit with such a passionate ardor. No! it was impossible to deny him any thing. Besides, if her husband should know no

thing about the matter, what harm was done? | the arched gateway of the palace, where a troop And if he chanced to discover the secret, surely of bedizened pages, lacqueys, chasseurs, and runhe would forgive her-forgive and love her still, ning footmen awaited the arrival of the lord and if his affection was sincere,' and more to that ef- lady. fect. She further related that she had consented to meet him at an early hour the next morning (perhaps, at this very moment, his happiness is complete!) and, for his peace and her own, to grant him all! Afterward, she thought (do you hear me, Lauretta!) afterward, this affair du cœur would soon be at an end. (This is what the French ladies call 'passer les caprices!') In conclusion, she timidly begged for-absolution -beforehand! It would be so comforting!and she obtained it from the holy man! How has this little history pleased you, my love?" continued the Marquis, raising himself from his horrible seat, on which no sign of motion was discernible.

"Of a truth," he proceeded in a sportive tone, "our reverend pastors are somewhat too indulgent to the tender passion. I speak of the greater number of them. No doubt our excellent old friend and spiritual counselor, Father Gregorio, would have taken a fair lady to task in a different way; if you, for example, Lauretta, had"As he spoke, he slowly returned the pillow to its place, and dashed aside the coverlet. Before him lay the architect, Giulio Balzetti! He had ceased to breathe.

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But a short interval had elapsed when the Marquis, attired in a magnificent court-suit--the star of knighthood glittering on his breast-was seen descending the broad marble staircase. In one hand he carried his hat; with the other he led, with a ceremonious courtesy, his young, beautiful, and almost unconscious wife. face was of the hue of death-stone-cold and rigid as the statues past which she glided with a spirit-like motion. His countenance was lit up with unwonted animation; his eye sparkled with a peculiar brightness.

Her

The attendants flew to their several posts-the carriage emerged from the court-yard, and moved at a slow pace through the crowded streets and squares; while not a few passers-by, as they stood still to contemplate the passage of the noble pair, exclaimed involuntarily, "There goes a loving couple!"

The absence of Balzetti was the subject of general remark at the church.

No one suspected that on the day of the fête, to which his presiding genius had imparted the chief eclât, the artist lay cold and stiff in death, with livid and frightfully distorted visage, amid a confused heap of robes, laces, slippers, and band

'Have you been lately to confession, Laura?" boxes, on the floor of a lady's dressing-room; or asked the Marquis.

"There, you have pins in your mouth, though I have so often warned you against the practice. Tell me, is it long since you were at confession?" he proceeded, in a somewhat louder tone.

Not long," returned his wife, with almost stifled accents.

"Apropos," resumed the Marquis, again hiding the hard and frightfully distorted features with the counterpane, "we are to go together to the grand ceremony at the Church of the Holy Magdalen. Precisely at twelve the procession will commence, and I must take my place at that hour. I can delay no longer."

He stepped into the dressing-room. His wife sat reclined in a large arm-chair, her luxuriant raven locks hanging in wild disorder about her neck. A death-like paleness overspread her cheeks and forehead; and both hands rested on her knees.

"What ails thee, my child?" said the Marquis, with an air of deep concern, and with unaltered cordiality of tone. "You have risen too early this morning, and it must be fatiguing to make your toilette without assistance. Has not Rebecca been summoned ? Shall I ring for her!"

He touched the bell-string; then, approaching his wife, imprinted a kiss on her forehead, and left the room.

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that his body was transported at midnight, on the back of a mule, by a confidential servant of the Marchioness, to a neighboring gorge of the mountain, and hurled from the precipice into the torrent beneath.

A convent of the Magdalen was endowed with a considerable sum for masses for the repose of his soul.

Don Gregorio, the popular father-confessor of the aristocratic world, was missing soon afterward; but he was allowed to pine away the remainder of his days in a subterranean dungeon of a monastery of Camaldolese, whither he had been conveyed by the influence of the Marquis. As may be surmised, the confessional box, No. 6, was removed from its place.

The Marquis never once alluded to the foregoing transaction in the presence of his wife. In society, and at home, he continued to deport himself toward her with the most perfect courtesy; at times, indeed, with a tenderness altogether foreign from his character. Within her chamber he never again set foot.

MORE FACTS WORTH KNOWING. ET a man roll a little air in his mouth, and what is that? Let Napoleon twist it between his lips and all the world is at war-give it to Fénélon and he shall so manage it with his tongue that there shall be every where peace. It is but a little agitated air that sets mankind in motion. If we could live without air we could not talk, sing, or hear any sounds without it. There would be a blazing sun in a black sky— sunshine mingled with thick darkness, and there

would be every where an awful silence. There | near Paris, know every year precisely on what is less air in the upper than in the lower regions day there will be the first ripe figs in islands of of the atmosphere; the bottom crust of air is, of course, densest. Saussure fired a pistol on the summit of Mont Blanc, and the report was like the snapping of a stick. There is a well at Fulda three hundred palms deep; throw a stone down it, and the noise it makes in its descent will be like the firing of a park of cannon. It

the Southern Archipelago? He is never-no migratory bird ever is-cheated of his dues by a late season. If the season be late he arrives late. How can a bird know, hundreds of miles away, what sort of weather there will be in Greece, in Egypt, or in England? Eastern nations that observed this close agreement between the move

of fruits, observed or invented sometimes a like concord between birds and flowers. When the nightingales appear, it is said, in certain parts of India, the roses burst spontaneously into blossom.

Then there are other things that travel through the air, of man's invention, simple applications to use-or to no use-of the powers of nature, balloons. There were balloons before Mongolfier. The Father Menestrier, a historian of Lyons, relates that at the end of the reign of Charlemagne there fell in that town a balloon with several people. The skymen were surrounded by the town's-people, who took them for magicians sent to devastate the land by Grimwald, Duke of Benevento, and they were only saved from destruction by the interference of the learned and enlightened bishop Agoberd. Father Kircher also tells how, long ago, some Jesuits

goes down among dense air, and also it reverb-ments of birds and the appearance of insects or erates. When a man speaks he strikes air with his throat and mouth as a stone strikes water, and from his tongue, as from the stone, spread undulating circles with immense rapidity. Those circles may be checked and beaten back in their course, as it is with the waves of sound made by the stone tumbling down a well, beaten back and curiously multiplied. At the Castle of Simonetti, near Milan, one low note of music will beget a concert, for the note is echoed to and fro by the great wings of the building that reflect and multiply a sound just as two mirrors reflect and multiply a lighted candle. Sound is, in fact, reflected just as light is, and may be brought quite in the same way to a focus. A word spoken in the focus of one ellipse will be heard in the focus of an opposite ellipse hundreds of yards away. Such a principle was illustrated oddly in the great church of Agrigentum in Sicily. The architect-perhaps intentionally-imprisoned among Indians tried in vain by varibuilt several confessionals of an elliptic form, with corresponding opposite ellipses, in which whoever stood heard all the secrets whispered to the priest. A horrible amount of scandal sprang up in the town; nobody's sins were safe from getting into unaccountable publicity. Intriguing ladies changed their lovers and their priests. It was in vain; their misdeeds still remained town property. The church soon became such a temple of truth that nothing was left to be hidden in it, but at last by chance a discovery was made of the character of the tale-telling stones, and the walls had their ears stopped.

ous ways to recover liberty, and at last one of them, who was free, constructed a big dragon of paper. He then went to the barbarians and told them that they were menaced by the wrath of Heaven with great evils, which they could avert only by the liberation of his countrymen. The savages laughed. The priest then went to his dragon, and having suspended in the midst of it a composition of pitch, wax, and sulphur, fastened behind it a portentous tail, and sent the beast up into the clouds, where it appeared to vomit fire. There was written on it, in the language of the country, "The wrath of God is about to fall on you!" The barbarians in great terror ran to free the Jesuits. Soon afterward, the paper having caught fire, the dragon fluttered, struggled, and disappeared in flame, and the barbarians took its withdrawal for a sign of the divine approval of their conduct.

From the sounds that travel through the air, we will turn once more to the substances, the birds, and say a word or two of them: regarding them especially as travelers, by whom oceans are crossed and countries traversed. The migration of birds used to be denied, or sometimes it was asserted that they did not migrate but Let us turn our faces now to the great fire wintered with the fishes at the bottom of lakes dragon of the sky, the sun. Every one knows and rivers. Dr. Mather taught that they flew to that there are spots upon its face. Leibnitz, an undiscovered satellite, a little moon that had writing in a courtly way for the edification of escaped observation, but was at no very great an old-world Queen of Prussia, called them distance from the earth. The fact of their mi-beauty-spots, giving them out for a sublime justigration is now not only established but so very notorious in almost all its details that little need be here said about it. Only we must remark upon the marvelousness of the fact that every bird knows when to go abroad, and times its departure not to an exact date but to the exact and fit time every season. Birds arrive in their foreign haunts just when the fruits are ripe on which they go to feed, or which they are sent to protect by the suppression of any too great ravages from insects. How does the loriot, resident

fication of the use of patches. The sun is a long way off, its light is eight minutes on the road before it reaches us, although light travels with amazing speed. A cannon-ball, if it could be fired up at the sun, its speed never diminishing, would about hit its mark at the end of eighteen years. Yet, though the sun is so distant, and light travels so far in eight minutes, there are other stars so distant that their light is six years on the journey to our eyes. Let such a star be now annihilated, and for six years we shall still

see it. The light of other stars that make a mist | rapidity with which new information is now before our telescopes comes from so far away pouring in will in the end tell of our ignorance that it has been traveling even for two millions of years before it reached the point in space that this our world (as we call it) occupies.

We might see more or less with other senses. The eagle has a telescopic eye, sunk in its orbit as within a tube, and possibly the eagle sees the moons of Saturn glittering, has long since known that in our moon there are mountains and valleys, and had at a very remote period of our history discovered more stars than Herschell, or Adams, or Hind.

There are stars upon earth apart from the opera-fire-flies and luminous insects. An old traveler tells a pretty story about them. He says that on the coast of Guinea he used to see the blacks preparing to go out to fish soon after sunset. The young girls were the fishers, who pushed out to sea in boats and made long tracks of light on the phosphorescent water. They seemed to be at work in fire where they were stirring about with fish baskets, seizing fishes and detaching shells from rocks. After a time they returned singing, wet from their task, and their whole persons covered with living fire. They brought with them gigantic crabs and frightful rays, and thousands of shells all glittering with light, which they poured out upon the grass, and then often they would dance, naked savages as they were, about their huts, and look like fairies, or fire-spirits.

Now that we are by the sea, we will abide upon it. What if there were no waves nor tides, nor currents in the ocean? What if it were not salt? To take only one consideration. What if it were possible for the sea to become frozen over like the Serpentine? Put upon a short allowance of vapor, when all the summer supply had been duly condensed and discharged in rain, we should have dry winters and springs, we should want clouds, want rain, want watersprings and water. The sand islands and marshes, and the many diverging channels, naturally formed as a delta at the mouth of most great rivers, are very ugly; but they are formed naturally, and, like all things in nature, have their use. We may say that they exist where it is geographically inevitable that they should exist, but He who made alike the laws and the things under the laws, so made them, that whatever accident may arise from their working, whatever secondary or other combinations they may run into, every thing has more than one use for good. Where we see no use the fault is in our ignorance; for we have millions of years of work to do, before we can say that we have turned out all the knowledge that is locked up in this little cabinet we call our world. The marshes and low islands at a river's mouth serve, we may say, as breakwaters for the protection of the inner country.

When we feel inclined to pride ourselves on our great wisdom, let us think how very little they appeared to know of nature who lived in the world before us, and feel that the very

more tales than of our wisdom, since it will cause us also hereafter to appear marvelously shortsighted in the eyes of those by whom our places will be taken. The tides to which we have been just referring, Kepler took for the respirations of the earth, which he regarded as a living animal, and Blackmore attributed the eruptions of Mount Etna to fits of colic. We have pushed out into somewhat deeper soundings, but they still will deepen as we go, and of the sea of knowledge we may say too, as of the salt water sea, that there are parts of it which no man may ever expect to fathom.

POOR MAN'S PUDDING AND RICH MAN'S CRUMBS.

"YOU

PICTURE FIRST.

POOR MAN'S PUDDING.

OU see," said poet Blandmour, enthusiastically-as some forty years ago we walked along the road in a soft, moist snow-fall, toward the end of March—“ you see, my friend, that the blessed almoner, Nature, is in all things beneficent; and not only so, but considerate in her charities, as any discreet human philanthropist might be. This snow, now, which seems so unseasonable, is in fact just what a poor husbandman needs. Rightly is this soft March snow, falling just before seed-time, rightly is it called Poor Man's Mapure.' Distilling from kind heaven upon the soil, by a gentle penetration it nourishes every clod, ridge, and furrow. To the poor farmer it is as good as the rich farmer's farm-yard enrichments. And the poor man has no trouble to spread it, while the rich man has to spread his."

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mour.

Perhaps so," said I, without equal enthusiasm, brushing some of the damp flakes from my chest. "It may be as you say, dear BlandBut tell me, how is it that the wind drives yonder drifts of Poor Man's Manure' off poor Coulter's two-acre patch here, and piles it up yonder on rich Squire Teamster's twentyacre field?"

"Ah! to be sure-yes-well; Coulter's field, I suppose, is sufficiently moist without further moistenings. Enough is as good as a feast, you know."

"Yes," replied I, "of this sort of damp fare," shaking another shower of the damp flakes from my person. "But tell me, this warm springsnow may answer very well, as you say; but how is it with the cold snows of the long, long winters here?"

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Why, do you not remember the words of the Psalmist ?—The Lord giveth snow like wool;' meaning not only that snow is white as wool, but warm, too, as wool. For the only reason, as I take it, that wool is comfortable, is because air is entangled, and therefore warmed among its fibres. Just so, then, take the temperature of a December field when covered with this snowfleece, and you will no doubt find it several de

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