-had most probably that morning performed the select duty of rubbing the stove and fire-irons of their proprietor-this gentleman, I say, advanced towards us, and offered us two tickets for sale. At that moment a magnificent carriage stopped at the side-gate, and a number of well-dressed ladies descended from the vehicle and repaired to the entrance of the Chamber. This determined us to purchase the proffered tickets for the gratifying compensation of three francs each; and when we arrived at the door, we were not a little surprised and pleased at being told that a most important discussion was actually taking place at that instant between Messieurs Thiers and Guizot. We immediately presented our tickets: the porter looked at them for a moment, and politely assured us that they were three weeks old. Stung by disappointment, we hastened to remonstrate with the worthy gentleman in his shirt-sleeves, who had sold us the useless billets; but, as the reader will have doubtless already imagined, he had carefully disappeared.

Duclin burst forth into a violent fit of laughter, and I presently followed his example. We then pursued our walk along the Quai, passed the barracks of the Waggon-train and Cuirassiers, the mag. nificent hotel shortly to be inhabited by the Minister of the Interior, the College of Four Nations, and the Mint, and crossed that portion of the Pont-Neuf which leads to the Island of the City.

"Let us ascend the towers of Nôtre Dame," suggested Duclin; we shall thence have a beautiful view of the whole of Paris."

66

Agreed," said I, and accordingly we hastened along the Quai des Orfevres to put our project into immediate execution.

But we were destined to meet with a short interruption under circumstances peculiarly affecting. A crowd opposite the Morgue attracted our attention as we drew nigh to that receptacle for unclaimed bodies; and we mingled with the curious group to ascertain the cause of attraction. By dint of pushing with our elbows, Duclin and myself managed to force a passage through the crowd, and obtained an entrance into the Morgue. There a most distressing spectacle met our eyes. One corse alone was stretched upon a bench-and over that dead cold form hung as lovely a creature as ever the sun shone upon. She was a prey to all the wildest excesses of distress and despair. Her bonnet had fallen off, and in her agony she had unwittingly detached the comb from her hair, which now fell wildly but luxuriantly over her back and shoulders. Those locks were of the darkest jet-corresponding with her eyes that were dimmed in torrents of scalding tears. Oh! never, never shall I forget the acuteness of that young girl's distress! Burning drops of the bitterest agony ran down her cheeks, her hands were clasped together as she leant over the remains of him she had apparently loved with so much devotion, and her bosom gave but difficult vent to half-suffocated sighs.

The history of that couple-as I learnt it from a by-stander-was as follows. Alfred d'Estival was the only son of a rich nobleman, whose avarice barely allowed the young heir to all his wealth a competency to live upon. Alfred had recourse to the gaming-table to increase his income. Alas! fond and unfounded hope! He lost

immense sums night after night, and gave bills for the amount. A lovely girl-Athalie was her name-the daughter of poor but respectable parents, had won his heart, and loved him in return; and in a moment of tenderness and ardent passion, her ruin was accomplished. She left parents, home, every thing, to live with Alfred, who could not espouse her against his father's wish. She became preg nant-Alfred daily grew melancholy-his losses increased-his funds were dissipated at Frascati the moment they were received-and ruin stared him and his fond mistress in the face. Athalie sate up the better portion of the night, while Alfred pursued his disastrous course at the gaming-table, and exerted herself, during those wretched vigils, to obtain a few francs by needle-work. This money she carefully treasured to meet the expenses incidental to her approaching confinement. But her embroidery was washed with many bitterbitter tears; her eyes were often dimmed with weeping; and the cold inauspicious morning surprised her at her labours.

In the meantime, Alfred's habits gradually became more dissipated; he gave way to drinking to drown his cares; and under the influence of intoxication not unfrequently struck the beautiful and unoffending girl, who had thus been made his unhappy victim. Then, how acute was her agony! She could have borne up against poverty, privation, and wretchedness; but ingratitude, scorn, and contempt,-and blows, -on the part of hin for whom she had dared the opinion of the world, were too much to support.

What could be the termination of that horrible state of existence, save the one already anticipated by the reader? Alfred-we must suppose-had been rendered desperate by a rapid succession of losses, as well as by the total indifference of his father concerning his lot-and had ended a wretched life as an impenitent suicide!

Duclin and myself wept aloud, and neither of us spoke during our short walk from the Morgue to the cathedral of Nôtre Dame. - We ascended the steep stair-case, and felt our spirits, that had been affected by the gloomy scene we had ere now witnessed, gradually rise as we drew nearer the summit of the southern tower. Arrived on the top, the sudden current of air refreshed us, and imparted a cheering influence to our minds. We stationed ourselves in a convenient spot, and thence surveyed the mighty Babylon stretched far over the plains around. To the north-east we perceived the sepulchres of Pere La-Chaise, interspersed amidst the green shrubs and plants that appear to weep over the remains of the mighty dead, and cast their shades on tombs whither it would be profane to suffer the rays of a joyous sun to penetrate. What food for contemplation is the vast burial-ground of a splendid city-the cemetry of decayed magnificence and grandeur! There mingle the ashes of the prince and the merchant-the warrior and the statesman-the heroes of July, and the victims of Fieschi. On many a humble, as on many a richly sculptured monument, are hung those garlands which a sweet and amiable superstition-the only instance where blind credulity presents aught save an aspect meriting contempt-has placed to commemorate the dead, and assure the hovering spirits of the deceased that their good deeds are still remembered on earth. Proud

man! what a lesson does that cemetery teach thee-a lesson expressive of thine insignificance! Of what avail are thy riches, thy rank, and thine honours? to that cold sod, mortal ephemeron, worm of a little day, must thy putrid remains eventually be borne!

"Turn we from a contemplation of the charnel-house of the human race," said I to Duclin; "and let us direct our view to a more pleasurable prospect."

"Willingly," answered my companion, whose disposition loved not the inspiration of melancholy ideas; "look at the Hotel de Ville, that ancient and venerable building, and the Place de Grêve, on which it stands, and which has witnessed the death of many a malefactor"

"And why not of many an innocent person?" said I. "Poor Esmeralda!" I added, as the recollection of that admirable creation of Victor Hugo's imagination passed across my mind; "one could almost be induced to believe that the spectacle, as it is painted in Notre Dame de Paris, were present to our view!-But, speaking of the Grêve, Duclin," said I, after a momentary pause, "do you chance to recollect having read of the singular fete that annually took place in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, on the Place de Grêve ?-No!-well, then, I will refresh your memory, and afford you a quarter of an hour's amusement at the same time."

"Proceed," said Duclin, seating himself upon the leads, an example which I deemed expedient to follow; "I am all attention."

"It was on the eve of St. John the Baptist," said I, "that this remarkable, ridiculous, but cruel féte took place; and the most celebrated on record is that which King Henry the Second honoured by his presence. On that occasion it had been rumoured that the poet Jodelle, author of the Orphée (Orpheus), had composed a play or Mystery' to be performed in the Salle Saint Jean of the Hotel-deVille after the usual ceremony on the Place. This circumstance alone gave a considerable addition of interest to a scene that was ever fraught with amusement and diversion. The auspicious morning dawned, and the bells of this Cathedral rang loud peals as a signal for the celebration of the annual sports. All the curious portion of the inhabitants of the three wards, into which Paris was then divided, viz. the University, the City, and the Town-all the menial idlers of the court, the convents, and the military depóts,--and many of the young students of the University itself, were to be seen at day-break rushing in disordered crowds to the Place de Grêve. Already were there assembled two hundred archers, a hundred arblast-bearers, and fifty musketeers or hack-but men, with an ample supply of am munition. The soldiers, composing these three bodies, wore glittering morions, steel corselets, and short swords at their sides. Those men-at-arms were stationed immediately round a tall pole, and about twenty mounted guards, headed by the handsome Chavigny, guaranteed a perfect discretion on the part of the spectators. At the top of the pole, which might be about forty feet in height, was suspended a large cage of strong iron-work; and in this barred prison were six

cats-"

"Six cats!" exclaimed Duclin in unfeigned astonishment.

"Yes-six cats, two fierce mastiff dogs, and three foxes-the dogs and foxes being muzzled to prevent their vengeful teeth from interfering with the tranquillity of the cats. Round the cage were fastened garlands of flowers, ornamented with party-coloured ribands that waved to the air as if in mockery of the misery prepared for the poor animals near which they fluttered. At the foot of the pole was a high heap of faggots, arranged around like the accursed wood of the Spanish auto-de-fé. Three little barrels, each containing about five pounds of gunpowder, were placed on these faggots; but the circle of guards was so extensive, that the effects of the explosion were not dreaded by the spectators. Before the Hotel-de-Ville was erected a scaffolding, on which were a number of seats intended for the king and the royal family; and in front of the basement of this scaffolding, a large amphitheatre had been prepared for the reception of the dependants of the court. It was not till about eight o'clock that a martial band announced the coming of the king; and then the Captain Montgomeri, of high repute, led the way at the head of a gallant troop of guards. With white plumes waving from his helmet, he rode on a stalworth charger gaily caparisoned, and took his station on the right side of the scaffolding, his men ranging themselves in two lines, thus forming a guarded avenue, up which the king must pass. Then appeared a number of the members of the royal household, and after them, surrounded by his peers and nobles, was Henry the Second. He was about forty years of age at that period, well proportioned, with a good-humoured countenance and a laughing eye-the mirthful glances of which were partially suppressed by the austere deference the monarch paid to religion and all its ceremonies. At his right hand rode a blooming girl, with dark black eyes and raven hair-but on whose fcharms I shall not dwell, because historians have been faithful in their records of her beauties, her actions, her inexperience, her misfortunes, and her failings. That lovely creature, to whom each gaze was directedthat fairy form, single amidst many-that attractive person was Mary Stuart, afterwards wife of the Dauphin Francis, and—”

"But you wander from your tale," interrupted Duclin.

"True," cried I. "Well, to proceed. The Dauphin rode at the left of his father; his age was fifteen, and he gazed around him with puerile, nay, almost infantine wonder on the various preparations for the day's amusement. Two cardinals were next, remarkable for the splendour of their attire, and the wealth displayed in their equipages. These were the Cardinals Lorraine and Chattillon. With these came the duke of Guise; and as the admiring crowds recognised the gallant warrior, they joined in a simultaneous shout of Long live the Saviour of Metz! Hurrah for the captor of Calais! Vive the champion of France! The duke graciously waved his plumed hat as a meet response to these loyal greetings; and the cavalcade passed quickly on. The procession was closed by the Duke d'Aumal at the head of a large party of knights and gentlemen, amongst whom were Siméon de Chantly, Edouard de Gaston, Guillaume de Nevers, Le Comte d'Effleurey, and Paul Godért. As this vast cavalcade extended itself like a moving sea of people' upon

the Place de Grêve, a band, resembling a troop of morris-dancers, issued from the gates of the Hotel-de-Ville. This was no other than the respectable corporations of the University, the City, and the Town. The Prévots, the magistrates, and the clerks of each district, formed the procession. They all bore lighted wax candles of dif ferent colours, and shaped in fantastic fashions. This ridiculous pageantry stopped opposite the king, and graciously desired to be informed if his majesty's self would illume the faggots. A refusal was given in a courteous manner, and the prévots des marchands for the Town headed the magisterial body, and proceeded solemnly towards the centre of the Place de Grêve. Presently the pile was in flames-the three corporations retired to a distance-and the terrific screams of the poor tortured animals, whom the devouring element soon reached, were only deafened by the shouts of the mob and the din of the music. In a few minutes the little barrels of gunpowder burst one after another in rapid succession; and for a moment all was silent, save the cries of the cats and-by way of contrast-the loud ringing of the bells of these towers. But that sudden cessation of clamour was renewed in a few moments; the multitude shouted with joy-the martial music rang out a merry air-and the fearful screams of the tormented animals redoubled."

"Mon Dieu !" exclaimed my friend Duclin, as I hesitated a moment to gather breath; "how terrible! and what barbarians must our ancestors have been! Your description, my dear —, is so vivid, that I almost fancy I perceive the enactment of the whole spectacle-the pageantry-the guards-and the cavalcade of illustrious personages, assembled on the Place."

"

"Let me bring my short narrative to a conclusion," said I with a smile. When the cats, the dogs, and the foxes, were no more, and when the base of the pole was nearly burnt away, the royal party withdrew to the Hotel-de-Ville, to partake of the repast there provided by the liege subjects of his majesty. But first the Poet Jodelle's piece was to be performed on a stage erected at the end of the grand Salle Saint Jean. Thither presently arrived Catherine of Medicis, who would not be present at the former disgusting ceremonial, attended by the wives and daughters of the principal burghers of the Town-district. She passed up the avenue which the respectful multitude formed for her, and proceeded to a seat at the side of her royal consort, who seemed not particularly overjoyed at her presence; for he would willingly, had he dared, have introduced his lovely mistress, Diane de Poictiers, to the festival. All were silentall were attentive, when the screen before the stage was drawn aside, and Jodelle's play commenced. It was a 'Mystery' founded on the story of Jael and Sisera; but however excellent in itself, it was murdered by the actors chosen to enact it. The one, who represented Sisera, was a fat burly man, about forty years of age, with a peculiar rubicundity of nose, and a most tremendous belly. Add to which the dreadful state of intoxication in which he was all the time, and the terrible huskiness of his voice, which, never melodious, a cough rendered unusually discordant, and you have the leading character to perfection. He rolled about the stage, uttering the most