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in Horace,' particular in the gesture number | At the moment of the imprecations his development of number three was beautiful: and, as to number one, we applauded him in it several times during the evening. He was so satisfied with himself in it, that he repeated it several times on purpose." The next day Talma himself visited the stinging critic, and made his peace with him. Maurice, of course, was often obliged to fight, and his wife kept an alphabetical list in a book of his duels, to refer to when asked whether he had measured his sword with this or that person. He was also one of the last in Paris to wear a pigtail.

Dantan, the sculptor, was taken away very suddenly a few days ago. He leaves a name honoured amongst artists. His Wellington, Vestris, Count d'Orsay, Lord Brougham, and Adelaide Kemble are well known. He possessed a most extraordinary memory in his art, and could make the bust of a person from once seeing him. A Russian gentleman, of a certain age, very much desired to have the bust of his wife. The lady refused to sit for it. Dantan was told by the husband that his wife went every day, at such an hour, in the omnibus, to see her sister. Dantan undertook to satisfy the husband's wishes, so took his place in the omnibus opposite the lady, went home, and a


little while after he sent to inform the Russian that the bust was finished. The husband hastened to the atelier; he shook his head : "That is not my wife, who is young and beautiful. You have taken the lady that sat beside her, a middle-aged friend of hers."

Talking of sculpture, the group that has been so much criticized before the new opera-house, and on which some one threw a bottle of ink, has been cleaned by a chemist, and all the ink has disappeared.

A wit states that M. Ségur d'Aguesseau says in one of his speeches that his "hair stood up at an end on his head only to make people believe that he still had some hair on his head. and another affirms that, when a gentleman told a would-be young baroness that there was a grey hair in her head, she exclaimed that it was impossible: it must be in her false chignon !

Madame G. Sand's pretty tale, "La petite Fadette," has been reset to music, and is to be represented at the Opera Comic.

The female dressmakers are about dethroning the male ones. The last new creations in female attire, worn by two actresses noted for their great taste, were made by women. Short dresses are to reign during this winter, they say on all occasions. Au revoir, S. A.


Arrived at the Hotel Waldoborough, accordingly, I stepped out of the coupé, and helped out the ladies and the lap-dog, and was going in with them, as a matter of course. But the Spider said, 'Do not give yourself ze pain, Monsieur!' and relieved me of King Francis. And Madam said, 'Shall I order the driver to be paid? or will you retain the coupé ? You will want it to take you home. Well, good day,' offering me two fingers to shake. I am very happy to have met you; and I hope I shall see you at my next_reception. Thursday eve-ingly, ning, remember; I receive Thursday evenings. Cocher, vous emporterez ce monsieur chez lui, comprennez?'

"Bien, Madame!' says the cocher. "Bon jour, Monsieur!' says Arachne, gayly, tripping up the stairs with the king in her arms. "I was stunned. For a minute I did not know very well what I was about; indeed, I should have done very differently if I had had my wits about me. I stepped back into the coupé, weary, disheartened, hungry; my dinner hour was past long ago; it was now approaching Madam's dinner-hour, and I was sent away fasting. What was worse, the coupé was left for me to pay for. It was three hours since it had been ordered; price, two francs an hour; total, six francs. I had given the driver my


address, and we were clattering away towards the Rue des Vieux Augustins, when I remembered, with a sinking of the heart I trust you may never experience, that I had not six francs in the world-at least in this part of the worldthanks to my Todworth cousin; that I had, in fact, only fifteen paltry sous in my pocket!


'Here was a scrape! I had ridden in Madam Waldoborough's carriage with a vengeance! Six francs to pay! and how was I ever to pay it? Cocher! cocher!' I cried out, despair'attendez !'

Qu'est-il?' says the cocher, stopping promptly.

"Struck with the appalling thought that every additional rod we travelled involved an increase of expense, my first impulse was to jump out and dismiss him. But then came the more frightful nightmare fancy, that it was not possible to dismiss him unless I could pay him! I must keep him with me until I could devise some means of raising the six francs, which an hour later would be eight francs, and an hour later ten francs, and so forth. Every moment that I delayed payment swelled the debt, like a ruinous rate of interest, and diminished the possibility of ever being able to pay him at all. And of course I could not keep him with me for ever-go about the world henceforth in a

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"I had one hope-that on reaching my lodgings I might prevail upon the concierge to pay for the coach. I stepped out with alacrity, said gayly to my coachman, 'Combien est-ce que je vous dois?' and put my hand in among my fifteen sous with an air of confidence.


"The driver looked at his watch, and said, with business-like exactness, Six francs vingtcinq centimes, Monsieur.' Vingt-cinq centimes! My debt had increased 25 cents. whilst I had been thinking about it! Avec quelquechose pour la boisson,' he added with a persuasive smile. With a trifle besides for drink-money; for that every French driver expects.


"Then I appeared to discover, to my surprise, that I had not the change; so I cried out to the old woman in the porter's lodge, Give this man six francs for me, will you?' 'Six francs! echoed the ogress, with astonishment: 'Monsieur, je n'ai pas le sou!'

"I might have known it; of course she wouldn't have a sou for a poor devil like me; but the reply fell upon my heart like a death


"I then proposed to call at the driver's stand and pay him in a day or two, if he would trust me. He smiled and shook his head.


"Very well,' said I, stepping back into the coach, drive to number five, Cité Odiot.' I had an acquaintance there, of whom I thought I might possibly borrow. The coachman drove away cheerfully, seeming to be perfectly well satisfied with the situation; he was having employment; his pay was going on, and he could hold me in pledge for the money. We reached the Cité Odiot: I ran in at number five, and up stairs to my friend's room. It was locked; he was away from home.

"I had but one other acquaintance in Paris on whom I could venture to call for a loan of a few francs; and he lived far away, across the Seine, in the Rue Racine. There seemed to be no alernative; so away we posted, carrying my ever-increasing debt, dragging at each remove a lengthening chain. We reached the Rue Racine; I found my friend; I wrung his hand. For Heaven's sake,' said I, help me to get rid of this Old Man of the Sea-this elephant won in a raffle!'

"I explained. He laughed. What a funny adventure!' says he. And how curious that at this time, of all others, I haven't ten sous in the world! But I'll tell you what I can do,' says he.

"For mercy's sake, what?'

"I can get you out of the building by a private passage, take you through into the Rue de la Harpe, and let you escape. Your coach. I

man will remain waiting for you at the door until you have traversed half Paris. That will be a capital point to the joke, a splendid finale for your little comedy!'

"I confess to you that, perplexed and desperate as I was, I felt for an instant tempted to accept this infamous suggestion. Not that I would willingly have wronged the coachman; but since there was no hope of doing him justice, why not do the best thing for myself? If I could not save my honour, I might at least save my person. And I own that the picture of him which presented itself to my mind, waiting at the door so complacently, so stolidly, intent only on sticking by me at the rate of two francs an hour until paid of, without feeling a shadow of sympathy for my distress, but secretly laughing at it, doubtless-that provoked me; and I was pleased to think of him waiting there still, after I should have escaped, until at last his beaming red face would suddenly grow purple with wrath, and his placidity change to consternation, on discovering that he had been outwitted. But I knew too well what he would do. He would report me to the police! Worse than that, he would report me to Madam Waldoborough !


Already I fancied him, with his whip under his arm, smilingly taking off his hat, and extending his hand to the amazed and indignant lady, with a polite request that she would pay for that coupé ! What coupé? And he would tell his story, and the Goddess would be thunderstruck; and the eyes of the Spider would sparkle wickedly; and I should be damned for


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upon Ossa, of francs, francs, francs-despair, despair, despair!

"Eh bien?' says the driver, interrogatively, as I went out to him.

"Pas de chance!' And I ordered him to drive back to the Cité Odiot.

"Bien!' says he, polite as ever, cheery as ever; and away we went again, back across the Seine, up the Champs Elysées, into the Rue de l'Oratoire, to the Cité, my stomach faint, my head aching, my thoughts whirling, and the carriage wheels rattling, clattering, chattering all the way, 'Two francs an hour, and drinkmoney! Two francs an hour, and drink-money!' "Once more I tried my luck at number five, and was filled with exasperation and dismay to find that my friend had been home, and gone off again in great haste, with a portmanteau in his hand.

"Where had he gone? Nobody knew; but he had given his key to the house-servant, saying he would be absent several days. "Pensez-vous qu'il est allé à Londres?' I hurriedly inquired.

"Monsieur, je n'en sais rien,' was the calm, decisive response.

"I knew he often went to London; and now my only hope was to catch him at one of the railway stations. But by which route would he be likely to go? I thought of only one-that by way of Calais, by which I had come, and I ordered my coachman to drive with all speed to the Great Northern Railway Station. He looked a little glum at this, and his 'Bien!' sounded a good deal like the bang' of the coach-door, as he shut it rather sharply in my face.

"Again we were off, my head hotter than ever, my feet like ice, and the coach-wheel saying vivaciously, as before, 'Two francs an hour, and drink-money! Two francs an hour, and drink-money!' I was terribly afraid we should be too late; but on arriving at the station, I found there was no train at all. One had left in the afternoon, and another would leave late in the evening. Then I remembered there were other routes to London, by the way of Dieppe and Havre. My friend might have gone by one of those! Yes, there was a train at about that time, my driver somewhat sullenly informed me-for he was fast losing his cheerfulness: perhaps it was his supper-time, or perhaps he was in a hurry for his drink-money. Did he know where the stations were? Know, of course he did! There was but one terminus for both routes; that was in the Rue St. Lazare. Could he reach it before the train started. Possibly; but his horses were jaded. Why didn't I tell him before that I wished to stop there?

"We reached the Lazarus-street Station; the train was about starting; but, owing to the strict regulations which are enforced on French railways, I could not even force myself into the passenger-room, much less get through the gate. Nobody could enter there without a ticket. My friend was going, and I could not rush in and catch him, and borrow my-ten

francs! I laugh now at the image of myself, as I must have appeared then, pouring forth torrents of broken aud hardly intelligible French, questioning, cursing, imploring, and receiving the invarible, the inexorable reply, always polite, but always firm, 'On ne passe pas, Monsieur.' The train


His serenity

Absolutely no admittance! started, and I was ruined forever! "I went back to my hackman. had vanished as mine had arrived. "Who will pay me? he demanded, fiercely. "My friend,' said I, it is impossible.' And repeated my proposition to call and settle with him in a day or two.


"And you will not pay me now?' he vociferated.

"My friend, I cannot.'

"Then I know what I shall do ;' !' turning away in a rage.

"I have done what I could, now you shall try what you can,' I answered, mildly.


Turning once more upon me, he said, 'I go to Madam. I demand my pay of her. What do you say to that?'

"A few minutes before I should have been overwhelmed by the suggestion-I was not pleased with it now. I ought to have had the courage to say to Mrs. Waldoborough, when she had the coolness to send me off with the coupé, instead of my dinner, 'Excuse me, Madam, I have not the money to pay this man!'

"It would have been bitter, that confession; but better one pill at the beginning of a malady than a whole boxful afterwards. I had, through my folly, placed myself in an embarrassing and ludicrous position, and I mnst take the consequences.

"Very well,' said I, 'that is the best thing you can do; but say to madam that I expect my uncle by the next steamer, and that you not only refused to wait till his arrival, but also put me to a great deal of trouble. You fellows should be more accommodating.'

"True! true!' says the driver, but I must have my pay all the same. I shall tell Madam what you say.'

"He was going; and now happened one of those wonderful things which occur in real life, but which, in novels, we pronounce improbable. Whilst we were speaking a train arrived, and I noticed a withered old man coming out of the building. I looked at him earnestly, because he, although old and withered, yet seemed happy, whilst I, so young and fresh, yet so miserable; and I was wondering at his selfsatisfaction, when I saw-what think you?— something fall to the ground, out of one of the pockets of the coat he was carrying on his arm. It was-will you believe it?-a pocketbook, a well-filled pocketbook-the pocketbook of a millionaire, by Jove! I pounced upon it like an eagle upon a rabbit. He was passing on, when I ran after him, politely called his attention, and surprised him by returning that which he supposed was safe in his coat-pocket.

"Is it possible!' said he, in very poor French, which betrayed him to be a foreigner like myself. 'You are very kind, very honest, very obliging-very obliging indeed!'

"If thanks and smiles would answer my purpose I had them in profusion. He looked at the pocketbook, and, feeling satisfied it had not been opened, again and again thanked me. He seemed very anxious to do the polite thing, yet still more anxious to be passing on; but I would not allow him—I held him with my glittering eye.

"Ah!' said he, perhaps you won't feel yourself insulted by the offer' (he saw that I was well-dressed, and probably hesitated to reward me on that account), and, putting his hand in his pocket, he took it out again, with the palm covered with glittering gold pieces.

"Sir,' said I, 'I am ashamed to accept anything for so trifling a service; but I owe this man-how much is it now?'

"Ten francs and a-half,' said the driver, whom I had stopped just in time.

"Ten francs and a-half,' I repeated.


"Mais n'oubliez pas la boisson' he added, his persuasive smile returning.

"With something for his dram,' I continued: 'which, if you will have the kindness to pay him, and at the same time give me your address, I will see that the money is returned to you without fail in a day or two.'

He paid the money, with a smile, saying it was of no consequence, and neglecting to give me his address. And he went his way well satisfied; and the driver went his, also well satisfied; and I went mine, infinitely better satisfied than either of them.

"Well, I had got rid of Madam Waldoborough's carriage, and learned a lesson which I think will last me the rest of my life. But I must haste and tell you the dénouement of the affair.

"I was not so anxious to cultivate Madam's acquaintance after riding in her carriage, you may well believe. For months I did not see her. At last my Todworth cousin and her yellow-complexioned husband came to town, and I went, with my uncle, to their hotel. They were delighted to see me. A card was brought in. My cousin smiled, and directed that the visitor should be admitted. There was a rustle -a volume of flounces came sweeping in, and a well-remembered voice cried, My dear Louise!' and my Todworth cousin was clasped in the embrace of Madame Waldoborough.


But what did I behold? Following in Madam's wake, a withered old man, whose countenance was strangely familiar to me. I con

sidered for a moment, and the scene in the Rue St. Lazare flashed across my mind. I remembered him well.

"Madam released Louise from her arms, and greeted the yellow-complexioned one. Then she was introduced to my uncle. Then the bride said, 'You know my cousin Herbert, I believe?'

"Ah, yes!' says Waldoborough, I recog nize him now!' giving me a smile and two fingers. You have been to one or two of my receptions, have you not?'

66 6

I have not yet had that pleasure,' said I. "Ah, I remember now! You called one morning, didn't you? And we went somewhere together-where did we go?—or was it some other gentleman?'

"I said I thought it must have been some other gentleman; for indeed I could hardly be lieve now that I was that fool.

"Very likely,' said she; for I see so manymy receptions, you know Louis, are always so crowded! But, dear me, what am I thinking of? Where are you, my love?' and the steamer brought the skiff alongside.

"Louis, and gentleman,' then said my lady, with a magnificent courtesy, the very wind of which I feared would blow him away-but he advanced triumphantly, bowing and smiling extravagantly allow me the happiness of presenting to you Mr. John Waldoborough, my husband.'

"How I rafrained from shrieking and throwing myself on the floor, I never well knew; for I declare to you, I was never so caught by surprise and tickled through and through by any dénouement of situation on or off the stage! To think that pigmy, that wart, that ltttle grimacing monkey of a man, parchment-faced, antique -a mere money-bag on two sticks-should be the husband of the great and glorious Madam Waldoborough! His wondrous self-satisfaction was accounted for. Moreover, I saw that Heaven's justice was done: Madam's husband had paid for Madam's carriage!"

Here Herbert concluded his story. And it was time; for the day had closed, as we walked up and down, and the sudden November night had come on. Gas-light had replaced the light of the sun throughout the streets of the city. The brilliant cressets of the Place de la Concorde flamed like a constellation; and the Avenue des Champs Elysées, with its rows of lamps, and the throngs of carriages, each bearing now its lighted lantern, moving along that far extended slope, looked like a new Milky Way, fenced with lustrous stars, and swarming with meteoric fire-flies.


HABDWICK'S MANUAL: for Patrons and Members of Friendly Societies.-(Manchester: John Heywood, 141, 143, Dean-street; London: Simpkin, Marshall Co).-The importance of friendly societies in these days, both from the numbers enrolled under their various denominations, the grand sum total of their accumulated wealth, and their effect upon the habits, characters, and condition of the working men of Great Britain, can scarcely be overrated. Hence the condensed information in the small volume before us (which has already reached a second edition), is replete with interest, not only for the political economist and utilitarian, but for the philanthropist and thoughtful readers generally. Mr. Hardwick brings to his task the authority of many years practical knowledge of his subject-knowledge derived while holding the highest office in connection with one of the most popular and powerful of these societies, "the Manchester Unity of Independent Oddfellows." He has evidently gone to the fond of the matter, and is at pains, while urging the excellence of such institutions, to open the eyes of less far-seing and pains-taking members, to the weak points in the rules, and management of some of these associations on which the workman bases his hope of help in the hour of sickness and adversity. The chapter entitled, "The General History of Friendly Societies," is exceedingly interesting; in it the writer shows that such co-operative endeavours to guard against the exigencies of accident or poverty, are by no means modern. Theophrastus, the pupil of Aristotle, alludes to associations among the Athenians, and the citizens of other Greek states, "having a common chest, into which a certain monthly contribution, paid by each individual was deposited, so that a fund be raised for the' relief of such members of the society as should in any manner have experienced adverse fortune." "A species of association or college, much resembling the modern burial club," existed amongst the Romans, and the laws of the society, inscribed on marble, remain to testify the fact in our times.

The ancient guilds of the Anglo-Saxons, were, according to Sharon Turner, friendly associations "made for mutual aid and contribution to meet the pecuniary exigences which were perpetually arising from burials, legal exactions, penal mulets, and other payments or compensations." Dr. Hicks has printed several documents belonging to these guilds. "A Gilde-scipe" Exeter shews that "its objects," observes our author, "were not unlike those of the modern friendly societies, although relief during sickness does not appear to have engaged their attention." "Each family or hearth" covenanted to subscribe one penny on the death of a member, male or female. This

subscription was paid to the canons of the cathedral, who, in consideration there of, performed the necessary rites for the "Souls' Scot." The rules of several associations, which date back to the Norman Conquest, are preserved, and Mr. Ansell remarks that they were established for the express promotion of religion, charity or trade. From these fraternities the various companies and city corporations in the kingdom are derived. One is sometimes tempted to think that ideas lie in the human brain like the germs of plants in the ground, to germinate from time to time as circumstances bring them to the surface. Mr. Hardwick observes, that, by none of the associations referred to, was the article of feasting and conviviality ignored; the self-inflicted fines of the members formed a separate fund in aid of the expenses of an annual entertainment, of which the general public had a share, as they generally ended with an interlude or pageant. It is interesting to know that in 1696 Defoe published a work ("Essay on Projects.") advocating a plan for the formation of societies "formed by mutual assurance for the relief of members in seasons of distress." By way of experiment, he proposes to establish one for the support of destitute widows. "The same thought," he adds, “ might be improved into methods that should prevent the general misery and poverty of mankind, and at once secure us against beggars, parish-poor, alms-houses, and hospitals, by which not a creature so miserable or so poor but should claim subsistence as their due, and not ask it of charity." From this Mr. Hardwick infers that not only were no such societies then in existence, "but that the author of the immortal Robinson Crusoe' was the first to suggest their formation." He is careful to show, that, however Englishmen pride themselves on the Anglo-Saxon love of freedom, that the labouring classes of that period had no share of it; that two thirds of the population were slaves, and that the real emancipation of the working people may be said only to have commenced towards the end of the last century. As late as 1768, an act passed, which compelled all London tailors to work from six in the morning to seven in the evening, with the interval of an hour only for refreshment. "The said act likewise decreed that the wages of the free English fabricator of clothing should not exceed two shillings and seven pence per day, except at a period of general mourning, when, for the space of one month, he was permitted to demand the sum of five shillings and three half-pence! For paying or receiving other than the sums specified, the offender was subjected to two months' imprisonment, and hard labour!" But we must not linger over this interesting "general history," or we shall have no space for other portions of

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