can make out to reach maturity amidst so many dangers, is to me a puzzle.

About eight in the evening, we entered the mouth of the Choo-keang, ('Pearl River') more commonly called the Canton river. The entrance is termed Hoo-moon (Tiger's gate) by the Chinese; Boca Tigris by the Portuguese; and Bogue by the English-the river itself being often erroneously named Tigris from the Portuguese name of the entrance. The wind having died away, we anchored for the night between Ananghoy and Tiger Island, and next morning we had a complete view of all the Bogue forts, rendered so famous by having been thrice battered down by the English-first by the Alceste in 1816; then by the Hector and Andromache in 1831; taken by Sir Gordon Bremer, and 459 guns captured, in February 1841, and in September of the same year, destroyed. They had all been rebuilt and extended since then, and certainly looked very formidable, although, I dare say, not really more efficient than ever. I counted ten batteries altogether: two on Chuenpee, a small hill on the right hand side of the river mouth; one on Tae-cok-tow, an eminence on the left side; three at Ananghoy, heights on the right side farther up; in one of these which ran along the water's edge, I counted no fewer than one hundred and forty embrasures. In the middle of the river there were two islands, called Wang-tongs, fortified all round; opposite to these islands on the west shore, there was a battery or two; and lastly, a neat fort with about thirty guns on Tiger Island. In the morning, while we were lying at anchor, waiting the flood-tide, a boat from one of the war-junks at Chuenpee came alongside with a message to the effect that we must send back and get a chop, or pass, from the Mandarin before we could pass on. The third mate was accordingly sent down in a fishing-boat, and I bore him company. We started at nine o'clock, and, by the aid of a strong ebb-tide and a fair wind, arrived at Chuenpee in half-an-hour. We found there a fleet of five or six war-junks, together with some trading vessels, and a great many boats. One of the war-vessels was an old American opium-ship, which they had bought, and there was another built at Canton after the same model. These had each two tiers of guns, ten on each side of the lower deck, and eight small carronades on each side of the upper, thirty-six guns in all. The remaining junks were fitted up in the native style, with three long masts without any shrouds, and an immense sail to hoist upon each, not forgetting the staring eyes in the bows. The admiral's junk that we were on board of mounted twenty-four guns of various kinds; some were of brass, others were long iron pieces, and others short carronades. Most of them were covered with Chinese inscriptions, with the exception of four long guns, two at each gangway amidships, which bore the names of English makers. The carriages were all very clumsy, and had no tackle about them. The cables and larger ropes in this vessel were made of twisted rattans, and there was a windlass and rattan rope for heaving up the rudder out of the water when not used. The cabin into which we were ushered to get the necessary document was a pretty large apartment, decorated with a good deal of carving and gilding, and at one end with a screen painted over with grotesque figures. A few sleeping-berths opened into this main cabin, and in one of them we got a peep of the great man himself. After leaving the junk, we made the boatmen land us at the nearest fort, which we got permission to walk through. The battery mounted fourteen guns, some of them the largest I ever saw. By a rough measurement we found one to be thirteen feet long, eight feet in circumference at the breech, and the diameter of the bore ten or twelve inches. Stone troughs with water stood near, for the purpose of cooling them when in use. As we were admiring these huge machines, our conductor, who had a few words of English, shook his head, and said, Ah, Chinaman gun no good; Englis gun mo' betta,' as, no doubt, they had found to their cost. After inspecting the fort, we ascended the small hill behind it. Its sides were covered with young firs, together with some castor-oil bushes, and

many flowering plants. On the top there was a small watch-tower with a few guns, and from this we had a good view of the river and surrounding country. On returning, we pulled up through Anson's Bay, the margin of which is occupied by rice-grounds and a village; then we passed along close to the Ananghoy forts, and saw the ruins of the old ramparts, and many of the dismantled guns; passed also an opium smuggling boat, or smoke pigeon' boat, as it is termed in the barbarous jargon which passes here for English; and we arrived at the ship a little after noon, just as she was getting under weigh for the flood-tide.

Making sail and proceeding up the river, we passed the two Tiger Islands: the banks then became low and flat, and the adjacent land was covered with rice, with a village appearing occasionally. The navigation of the river is, upon the whole, pretty open, but in one place we had to pass a sand-bar, which required two lines of fishingboats stationed to mark the limits of the narrow channel. Continuing our course, we passed, on the left hand, a hill with a nine-storied pagoda on the top, and the appearance of basaltic columns at the base. As we approached Whampoa, the country became more hilly, and the cultivation more varied; large villages peeped out here and there from their embowering trees; and many of the hills had terraces rising up their sides, like broad steps of a stair, for the growth of various crops. The tide and the daylight failing us, we had to drop anchor for the night, and next day the ship was moored in Whampoa Reach, close to a small village on Dane's Island. For the next ten weeks I lived in a world of wonders. The novelties were indeed bewildering, and so much time was occupied in seeing, that little remained for describing; and the very abundance of materials prevented me from using them, until familiarity made many things insignificant which at first seemed characteristic, and much that I intended to describe at leisure went out of mind. Hence my notes of this period are rather scanty, and I can do little more than simply indicate my movements and a few of the interesting objects that came in my way.

WILD FLOWERS OF THE MONTHS AND THEIR ASSOCIATIONS.-SEPTEMBER.

BY H. G. ADAMS.

All the flashing, gleaming glory, of a proud host, onward pressing
With splendour of spread banners, that woo the sun's caressing,
To the deadly field of conflict, or in triumphing return,

And trumpet's blare, and trampling of hot steeds the ground that spurn.

All the wealth of olden story, the up-piled heaps of treasure,
The gorgeous pageantry described in tales of eastern land,
Are as nothing to the richness, the plenty without measure,
Which brown September scatters profusely o'er the land.

Here on this breezy upland we'll stand awhile, down-gazing
Upor. the quiet valley which spreadeth far beneath,
To watch the flying shadows of the clouds each other chasing,
And to twine of Autumu flowers, all golden-hued, a wreath.
Look! through the hazy distance how the sheen of silver waters
Chequers the leafy umbrage of the woodlands waving wide,
Like a sea that meets the Orient with the dye of many slaughters,
Up-flushing through the amber of its ever-changing tide.
Look! how the sunlight catches the tints that are the rarest,
O'er stately oak, and elm-tree clump, and copse, and orchard flung;
And sleeps upon the stubble-lands, and banks that are the fairest,
Above which rise the hedgerows, with Clematis-tassels hung.
See! what a restless shimmer the basking landscape veileth,
Where Gos'mers- tiny aeronants-their silken meshes weave!
What a hum of happy insect-life on every side prevaileth!
Oh, golden-bright September, who can look on thee and grieve?
SEPTEMBER is rather the month of fruit than of flowers-
of performance than of promise; the boughs of the orchard-
trees now are most richly and heavily laden with the rus-
set and red-streaked apples and the mellow pears-the for-
mer meet for winter store, the latter for present use and
enjoyment; and the plums, purple and yellow, hang ripe
and tempting amid the green leaves, and drop heavy and
frequent to earth, as the autumnal gale sweeps whistling
through the stubble-fields, and around the thickly-planted

corn-ricks, and by the huge barn-door, flung wide open to admit the laden wain; and the Vine, whose slender limbs creep up the southern wall, hangs out her juicy clusters to the sun-here clear and glistening like globes of crystal, there dark and glossy as the violet leaf; and the downy Peach, so delicately tinged, so finely flavoured; and the ruddy Nectarine, are now in full perfection. But not alone for man is there a feast spread by the bountiful Giver of all good gifts; for the feathered tribes, too, there is an abundant supply, and at every hedgerow they may revel and take their fill, all heedless as they are of the coming season of gloom and scarcity. Happy creatures! feasting, and frolicking, and enjoying the pleasures of to-day, without a thought or care for to-morrow; having no forebodings of sorrow, no prescience of approaching evil

For them the dewy splendours of the morn,
With its pure joys and finer ecstacies,
That thrill the living fraune, as with a sense
Of renovated youth; for them the bright
Unclouded radiance of the noonday, rife
With hum of insect life, and sounds that lull
The spirit to repose; for them the cool
Fresh breeze of eventide, that bears upon
Its winnowing wings the rich and rare perfume
Of all the sweet flowers it has stray'd among.
Clear streams are theirs. that murmur as they go
An undersong of joy-and leafy boughs,
That rustle to the passing gale, and seem
To whisper words of love-and azure skies,
With roseate flushings of the dawn, and all

The glorious tints which mark the sunset hour.
And now for them the green-leaved Elder spreads
Its purple clusters, and the scarlet Hips,

And Haws, and Berries coralline

Of Honeysuckle, wreathing Bryony,
Viburnum, Service-tree, and Mountain Ash

Are plentiful, and easy of access,

Decking the hedgerow, and the wayside copseThe brightest jewelry which nature wears. And the frolicsome squirrel, too, as he shakes the rattling nuts to earth, and sits up on his hinder legs to crack them, and enjoy their fine mellow flavour, or leaps from bough to bough with plenty wherefrom to pick and choose, is not he keeping high festival? But the flowers-what about the flowers of the month? We have undertaken to twine a wreath for September, and we must do it, if we go to Covent Garden market for the necessary materials. However, we shall not be put to such a shift now, and we question if we shall be at all, even during the most inclement and sterile period of the year--now, when the Flos Adonis, or Pheasant's eye, is blooming in the rich loamy valleys, and on the chalky uplands of our own country, and throughout Europe, the southern parts especially. This is one of those classical flowers, about which we hope to write more anon; at present it must suffice us to observe, that it is the flower which, according to ancient fable, sprung up where sank into the earth the blood of Adonis, the beautiful youth, beloved by Venus, who was slain by the tusks of a boar which he was hunting:

'Short time ensued, till where the blood was shed A flower began to rear its purple head,' as Eusden's translation of Ovid runs. It is a plant which sometimes reaches a foot in height, but more often eight or ten inches only, having a compact feathery foliage of a dark green hue, and small blossoms sprinkled over it but sparely, of a rich crimson, which have been compared to the beautiful iris of the pheasant, hence its popular name. The French term it Gouttee de sang (drops of blood), no doubt on account of its sanguine colour, which agrees so well with the fable of its origin. There can be little question that it is indigenous to this country, as Gerard, who wrote two hundred and fifty years since, spoke of it as growing wild in his time; the country people then called it Red Camomile, and great quantities of it appear to have been taken every year to London, and sold under the name of Red Morocco and Rosearubie; and, in truth, the blossoms do somewhat resemble little ruby roses. In Ire land, we are informed, it is to be found about Dublin, and in Scotland in the neighburhood of Glasgow. It is a pretty plant for a pot, but its blossoms are very short-lived. Like the young Adonis whom they symbolise, their end is premature, as Wiffen sings

And far and wide is seen Adonis' flower,

Stain'd from his ancient wound, and born to die.

Now, too, we have the Autumnal Crocus, purpling the moist meadows where it grows-and that is in but few localities-with its violet-tinged cups, in which are found the orange-coloured stigma, which forms the saffron of commerce, used for dyeing and medicinal purposes; hence the plant is sometimes called the Meadow Saffron, and the poets when they describe the glories of the dawn, speak of | saffron-tints; as Drummond, for instance— Who hath not seen, within her saffron bed, The morning's goddess?'

And again

The winds all silent are, And Phoebus in his chair, Ensaffroning sea and air, Makes vanish every star.'

This, too, is a classical flower, and has a fable attached to its name, as must be well known to the readers of Ovid, whose version of the story is not, however, followed by the old chronicler Hollinshed. Which is the most veracious authority we cannot tell, and shall quote neither at present. According to Martyn's translation, which we have ventured to paraphrase, Virgil tells us that

'The bees at large on hoary willows feed,
Arbutes, and glowing Saffron of the mead.'

What a place, then, for the bees must Saffron Walden in Essex be, where the plant is said to have been first introduced from the East, and where it is still extensively cul- | tivated!

In the above lines allusion is made to the Arbutus, a plant frequently mentioned by Virgil, and one, too, which may well claim a passing notice here, because at this period of the year it puts forth its purely white blossoms, which contrast beautifully with its dark green foliage and crimson berries; for, like the Orange, the Strawberry-tree, as it is sometimes called, bears on the same branch, and at the same time, both flower and fruit. With us it is seldom seen, except in the enclosed shrubbery; but in the west of Ireland, especially amid the beautiful scenery near the Lake of Killarney, it is found growing wild, although it seems scarcely probable that it is a native of that or any country so far north. In Greece, Palestine, and other parts of Asia, as well as in the south of Europe, it is plentiful enough, in some places so much so that its berries serve as a common article of food. Phillips tells us that the Irish, on its first introduction, likened its berries to clots of Abel's blood, and called it Cain-apple; and thus the Romans, when they had plenty of oil and wine, and richer fare, termed the fruit unedo, being a contraction of unum edo, you will eat but one; and this, we imagine, would be quite sufficient for most epicures of the present day. Mant, in his 'British Months,' says of this plant

If where the mountain bngle wakes
The echoes of Killarney's lakes,
And Glena's waving crags incline
O'er sainted Mucrus abbey-shrine,
The Arbute opes its purple bells;
All beautiful itself, it tells

In concert with the fading woods,
Of winds and equinoctial floods,

Which soon their gather'd rage shall pour;
And beauty, on that distant shore,
Forsaken, left to bloom alone,
Unnoticed on her desert throne.'

Now, too, we have the tall and handsome Golden Rod,' : as Miss Pratt calls it, a plant formerly so highly esteemed for its supposed medicinal virtues, that Gerard says-I have known the drie herbe, which comes from beyond the seas, sold in Bucklersburie, in London, for half-a-crown an ounce.' But at about the time of which he writes—that is, at the conclusion of the sixteenth century-it was discovered that the credulous believers in its virtue need not have sent so far for their favourite remedy, for, lo! it grew wild close at hand, in Hampstead woods, and then, as the old herbalist continues, 'No man would give halfe-a-crowne for a hundred weight of it, which plainly setteth foorth our inconstancie and sudden mutabilitie, esteeming no longer of

anything (how precious soever it be) than whilst it is strange and rare.' In this respect we do not know that society has much improved; rarities and exotics now are as great favourites as they were two hundred years ago, and anything which is native and common, however beautiful, and useful, and meritorious, is comparatively but little regarded. Fuller, also, in his Worthies of England,' takes occasion to moralise, in his quaint way, upon this glaring inconsistency of, shall we say, our common nature, which disdains and rejects that which is easily attainable, and longs and strives rather for that which is rare and costly, and difficult of attainment. But we must now leave the Golden Rod, or Aaron's Rod, as it is sometimes called, and say a few words about the Mallow, not that which, according to Crabbe

'Hardy and high above the slender sheaf

-Weaves her silky leaf,'

and is found by every roadside and on every piece of waste land, blossoming profusely, from May to October-but that kind known as the Marsh-Mallow, celebrated for its healing properties, whose delicate rose-coloured blossoms, mingled with the thick velvety leaves, beautify the salt marshes and margins of the sea at this period of the year. These leaves, according to Pliny, were used by the Romans as a remedy for the poison of all venomous creatures, from the wasp to the serpent; and there is no doubt that their emollient properties might do much towards allaying the external inflammation caused by the bites or stings of noxious insects or reptiles; but they could have little or no effect in arresting the deadly operation of powerful animal poison absorbed into the system; therefore, with all due respect for the authority of the old natural historian, we would rather decline trusting to his remedy; neither should we feel disposed to place confidence in the juice of this herb, given warm to any of our friends who might be afflicted with a settled melancholy or derangement of mind; nor would we even sow Mallows in our fields for the purpose of enriching the ground, as he reports his countrymen used to do. Such a practice must rather have bothered Cincinnatus, and rendered nugatory much of his ploughing; at all events, modern agriculturists find that they spring up quite fast enough without sowing. However, there can be no doubt that the Mallow well deserves its Greek name, Athea, signifying to cure; it is one of the few herbs or simples which are retained as useful by the medical practitioners of the present day. Another maritime plant, the Sea-Wormwood, is also now in blossom; this must not be confounded with the more common species of Wormwood generally known as Mugwort, so called from its frequent use in imparting a bitter flavour and tonic property to beer. Both these plants were highly esteemed by the ancients, and Phillips enumerates a great variety of uses to which they were put. The generic name of the family to which they belong is Artemesia; hence Crabbe, alluding to the growing disuse of the old familiar names of plants, and the application of more refined, scientific terms, sarcastically writes:

Nor weeds are now; from whence arose the weed
Scarce plants, fair herbs, and curious flowers proceed;
Where Cuckoo-pints and Dandelions sprung.
(Gross names had they our plainer sires among),
There Drums, there Leontodons we view,
And Artemesia grows where Wormwood grew.'

We must not forget to gather for our September wreath a few of the bright yellow blossoms of the common Fleabane, as it was called by our forefathers, and still continues to be termed, although it is not now held in repute as a destroyer of those active and insatiable little insects, for which it is exceedingly desirable to find some sort of bane' against which there shall be no antidote.' This flower is sometimes called the Wild Marigold; it grows plentifully in Arabia, where it has received the appellation of Job's tears,' because, according to tradition, with its bruised stems and leaves the afflicted patriarch dressed his grievous sores. We have now to notice but one more flower before concluding our gossip for this month, which is the Cudweed or Everlasting-flower, in France termed Immortelle, and much used to deck the graves of the departed, as it is in Spain and Italy to adorn the shrines and figures of the

saints, and as it was in ancient Greece and Rome to crown the statues of the gods. We possess five native species of this plant, which have been variously called Cudweed, Chafe weed, Cottonweed; two or three kinds have been likewise introduced into the country, and to them old writers have applied the terms Gold-flower, God's-flower, Goldilocks, &c., also Live-long, Live-for-ever, and Golden Mother-wort, which latter term was applied more particularly to the eastern Everlasting, mentioned by Parkman and Gerard, from whom we learn that it was an inmate of our gardens prior to 1628. Professor Henslow, writing of the Everlasting-flower, observes-Some plants force us, as it were, to read their meaning, and one of these is that which we have chosen for our present subject. For who can look upon the Everlasting without seeing in it a type of the immortal nature of our spirits. Its enduring property has occasioned its use as a token of remembrance by the friends of the departed;' and he concludes with these lines:

And can a name like this belong
Where all is changing fast?
Surely we dream alone in song

Of tints that ever last.

I deem'd that earth's were fading flowers,
Existing but a few short hours.

Ah! 'tis indeed a dream to give
Frail plants so high a name;
They may a space their friends outlive,
But fade at last the same;

Yet is the name with warning fraught,
With many a deep and holy thought!

When the bright heavens consume in smoke,
And worlds in ashes lie,

The soul shall break death's fearful yoke,
And live eternally!

In realms of joy, happy and free,

Or bound in chains of misery!

So let us live, that when we die
To us it may be given

That angels shout our welcome high,
And ope the gates of heaven!

No more to tread earth's paths of gloom,

But dwell where flowers eternal bloom."

NAPOLEON AND HIS SISTER.

THE emperor had reached the zenith of his prosperity. He was making kings with as much ease as he was making marshals. Murat had just been transfered from the Grand Duchy of Berg to the throne of Naples, when one morning a carriage drove into my court-yard and a lady alighted from it. Ah, Misericorde! I exclaimed, it is her imperial highness the Princess de Guastalla (Madame Borghese, the beautiful Pauline Bonaparte). I was hastening down stairs to receive her with all due ceremony, when happening to pass a window which looked out to the garden, I beheld advancing towards the house-who, but the emperor himself. He rang at a back door, usually appropriated to the servants, and entered. was, I think, accompanied by Berthier. Here was a rencontre! It was Scylla and Charybdis! I might perhaps have feigned not to recognise the emperor, but with a most imperative gesture, he beckoned me to him. I therefore turned to the right about, and leaving the princess to find her way to the drawing-room unattended, I hurried to the emperor.

He

'Prince,' said he, as soon as I was in his presence, 'I know that my sister wishes to speak with you. Show me into an adjoining room, where I may hear her break her thunderbolts. Say what you can to appease her, but do not pledge me for anything. Go to her quickly--she will never forgive you for keeping her waiting.'

I thought of the fatal position of Germanicus with Nero, in Racine's tragedy, in the scene in which Junie complains to the former of the cruelty of the latter. I had prepared myself for a most violent reception, but all my expectations fell short of the reality. The princess, as soon as she saw me, taxed me with my want of respect, and complained of not having found me waiting to receive her at the door of my hotel. This first ebullition of ill humour being exhausted, I said—

'Madam, if your imperial highness had been pleased to give me notice of your intention to confer on me this ho

nour, I should undoubtedly have observed the due etiquette. But as I am not endowed with prescience, it was only a few minutes ago that I learned from my servants that the sister of our august monarch was in my house.' 'His sister, sir! rather say an unfortunate, a forsaken, a miserable slave!'

'Is it possible, madam, that enjoying as you do the favour of his imperial majesty, you can have any cause of complaint?'

'His favour! What a mockery! Does he show his favour by degrading me?'

'No, madam, but by having elevated you to the dignity of an imperial princess, by having conferred on you the Duchy of Guastalla, and united you to a Roman prince!' 'A brilliant marriage, truly! An illustrious rank! I have indeed reason to congratulate myself when I see Caroline a queen, my sister-in-law a queen, and then Josephine's daughter a queen, or on the point of becoming one: and I suppose there is a kingdom in store for Jerome's wife! Eliza, too, will be crowned by and by; whilst I am nothing-hear me, Prince Cambaceres. Go immediately to Bonaparte, and tell him, that if he does not raise me to the dignity of queen, I have a terrible vengeance in reserve for him.'

But which your sisterly affection will not permit you to inflict. My affection! I hate him-he is a monster.' Hush! princess!' I exclaimed, with some alarm. Know that in France walls have ears.'

·

'I care not-1 defy his police—and I would tell him all I have said to his face. I will seek refuge in England, or he shall perish by my hand.'

1 became more and more alarmed, and I was about to reply, when the emperor saved me the trouble. He opened the door, and presented himself to the princess. Maniac!' he exclaimed, 'you shall not go to England, but to Clarenton.'

Ah! so you have followed me,' she said. 'Then you thought I really intended to throw myself into the Seine, as I threatened! I have come here to request Prince Cambaceres to intercede for me. Now, my dear Napoleon, I must have a crown. I don't care where it is. Make me queen of Portugal-or Denmark, what you will-I would even reign in Switzerland or in Corfu-no matter where-but a crown I must have. Am I to be the only one of the family who does not wear one? Oh, Napoleon! your unkindness will kill me!'

With these words, she burst into a flood of tears. The capricious beauty had changed her imperious tone to one of supplication and tender reproach. The Princess Pauline was certainly a most fascinating woman; but at that moment she appeared to be more charming than ever. I could not wonder at the ascendancy she gained over the emperor. He was at first in a violent rage; but his anger was gradually soothed, and when Pauline stopped short in her appeal to him and burst into tears, he advanced to her and said affectionately

My dear sister, why are you not satisfied? I am doing all I can for you. Kingdoms cannot be created at my will. Besides, your husband is not a Frenchman.'

I

'Let me have a divorce, then.'-' Heaven forbid will be a queen, or I will go to London.'-'You shall go to Vincennes.'I defy you! I will strangle myself as I enter.' I know not what circumstance was recalled to Napoleon's mind by this threat; but his brow lowered, his eyes flashed, and he bit his lips till he almost drew blood; and then in a voice faltering with emotion, he exclaimed: 'So much the better Madame. You will rid me of a termagant, whom I find it more difficult to govern than all Europe together! I see that you are only to be ruled with a rod of iron. I therefore command you to go immediately to Madame Mère, and there await the orders which the Prince Arch-Chancellor shall deliver to you from me.'

Then will you make me a queen? I must be crowned.' 'Really, Pauline, to hear you, one would imagine that I had wronged you of your right of succession to the late king our father.'

I had never before known the emperor to have recourse

to this sort of pleasantry, but I often afterwards heard him employ similar language. On the occasion which I have first been describing, this good-humoured touch of satire had an excellent effect. Pauline blushed, and a rapid glance at the past reminded her of her humble origin, contrasted as it was with the high rank to which her brother had raised her. A sudden change was effected in her feelings; she hung down her head, and was evidently mortified and ashamed. Napoleon asked her whether she had come alone. She named one of her ladies, I do not recollect whom, and said she was waiting in another apartment.

'Let her come in,' said the emperor.

I rang the order was given, and the lady appeared The emperor directed her not to lose sight of the PrincessBorghese, and then, turning to me, he added: 'Let us retire to your cabinet.'

'I am at your majesty's disposal,' replied I; but per- | mit me first to observe the ceremony due to the princess." 'Well, well! only be quick!'

He proceeded to my cabinet, and Fescorted the princess. to her carriage. As soon as I had got rid of her, I flew to wait on the emperor. I found him walking about the room with hurried steps.

"Well, prince!' said he, as soon as I entered, this is one of the thousand disagreeable scenes which, tyrant as they say I am, I am compelled to endure. This morning Pauline came to me, commenced an altercation, assumed an imperative tone, and ended by threatening to drown herself. Seeing the excited state she was in, and knowing her violent temper, I became alarmed. She left me; I followed her, and as soon as she stepped into her carriage, I took possession of the first cabriolet I saw standing in the court-yard of the Tuileries. She drove across the bridges; I suspected she was coming to you-L entered by your back door; and you know the rest. A│ crown for a Borghese! Such a proposition would excite an insurrection in the army! The Borghese are of pure blood-royal, I know; but the kings of my creation must be of my own blood, and must have received the baptism of the sword. However, I am anxious to soothe Pauline. Her husband shall be made governor of Piedmont. Tell her this from me; and, moreover, that I will give her a million francs to clear off her debts and re-set her diamonds. A million francs! What a sum. How much happiness it would diffuse if distributed! Ah, prince! What a cross is a numerous family to a man like me! I have always envied the happiness of Melchisedech, who never knew father, mother, brother, and, above all, sisters.’—Evenings with Cambaceres.

THE STAFF OF ELDER-WOOD.

A HUNTER wandered with his son over a field, and a deep stream flowed between them. The boy then wished to cross over to his father, but he could not, for the stream was very wide. He straightway cut a branch from the bushes, placed one end of it in the water, supported himself boldly upon it, and leaped with all his strength. But, behold!!! it was the branch of an elder-tree; and, as the boy hovered over the stream, the staff broke in twain, and he fell headlong into the water, and the waves foamed and || dashed over him. A herdsman at a distance saw this, and ran thither, and uttered a loud cry. But the boy blew the water from his lips and swam laughing to the shore. Then the herdsman spoke to the hunter, and said: You seem to have instructed your son in many things, but one thing you have forgotten. Wherefore have you not taught him to search beneath the surface, before he opens his heart to confidence? Had he viewed the soft pith of the elderwood, he would not have trusted to the deceitful bark." 'Friend,' replied the huntsman, 'I have sharpened his eye and exercised his strength. I can leave him, there fore, to experience. Time may teach him distrust, but even in temptation he will remain upright, for his eye is clear and his powers are strengthened by use.'-Krum

macher.