themselves, she is free to change her engagement; and if fortune smiles on her family, and relieves her from her position of dependence, she is no serf to be controlled by a tyrant. Servants who are ill used "better themselves " the first opportunity, occasioning a discomfort to unreasonable mistresses, which is satisfactory to contemplate. And when poverty and misfortunes, or even prudential motives, induce near relatives to separate, they part with a hope of reunion; with a belief in achieving some future good that shall compensate for present sufferings; with a plan for correspondence laid down; or if not thus, it is because though "near" they are not "dear," and the separation is no pang at all. In those cases, on the other hand, where affections are strong and fortitude wanting, the rude wrench is avoided, and natures too weak perhaps to struggle bravely with the world, at least sigh and suffer together. With the wretched slave

there is no natural adjustment of this kind. A people proverbially affectionate and attached are ruthlessly separated, their fondest ties sundered at the will of another; their whole human nature corrupted by the laws of the country, and themselves taunted for a degradation that is inevitable, from the wrongs to which for centuries they have been condemned. Even the knowledge of a Redeemer, and the ineffable consolations of Religion, are in the majority of instances denied them; and secular learning is kept far away, lest knowledge should indeed prove to be power. But, though the arguments which might be brought forward-to show in what the sufferings of the negroes differ from any misery to be found in England—are well nigh inexhaustible, they are familiar to every thoughtful mind, and rise up in all their convincing truth, at the mere mention and contrast of the two words Freedom and Slavery! C. C.

MY DEAR C,

The enthusiasm exhibited on the entry of His Imperial Highness was by no means what had been expected; the weather also was very dull, damp, and dreary; the sun, perhaps from a feeling of modesty, or in fear of his brightness being eclipsed by that of the new Emperor, did not show himself during all the day. To give you an idea of the effect of the whole thing, I will quote the words of a gentleman who had been over to London to see the Duke of Wellington's funeral: he says that the entry of Louis Napoleon was much less magnificent, but far more melancholy.

And now that we have the Empire, people seem tolerably resigned; how long their resignation may last is a question I cannot pretend to

answer.

The marriage of the Princesse de Wasa is announced as going to take place immediately, but with Prince Albert of Saxony instead of with His Majesty Napoleon III. I hear, from good authority, that the latter is desperately smitten with a certain beautiful young Spanish lady: from motives of discretion I forbear giving the name, but the chasse at Compeigne was put off owing to this lady's illness: some say that it is by no means impossible that she may wear the imperial diadem.

A few years ago-when the Napoleon III. of to-day was only Louis Bonaparte, looked on as a wild adventurer without a prospect of success, except by himself, and some few who always believed in the triumph of the Bonaparte cause -Louis Napoleon desired nothing more than to marry an English girl; he did not aspire to an heiress even: he wished for some fortune, but he showed no undue ambition. So you see

France might have had an English woman for her Empress, always providing that the Emperor did not divorce her on his accession to the throne; not considering the wife of Louis Bonaparte worthy of being the Imperatrice of Napoleon III. The last person I have heard mentioned as a wife for him is the Princess Charlotte, daughter of the King of the Belgians. I have heard this spoken of, but I do not at all vouch for the truth of the report. What would the Orleans say to the marriage of their niece with the enemy of their house? I dare say he will find great difficulty in marrying according to his ideas; he wishes to ally himself with some royal house, and spite of his brilliant position but little confidence is placed in its duration.

The Palais of the Elysée is being prepared for the reception of the Pope, though I believe there are some doubts as to his coming; immense expenses are being incurred in repairing the royal palaces, and already the people are murmuring that notwithstanding the sums granted for the civil list, it is the country and not Louis Napoleon that must pay.

The rage for speculations is calmed: a little while ago nothing else was heard of, fortunes were made in them, and lost also; a first success tempted the fortunate or unfortunate winner to try again and again till they tried once too often. In such times there are always a number of stories, more or less true, related: among others, I heard one the other day which I will tell you. Monsieur et Madame N.'s ménage was what is called a ménage modèle, till in an unlucky hour Monsieur N. was attacked by the prevalent malady, speculation, in its most aggravated form. Madame remonstrated; but for the first time her gentle warnings were unheeded. A woman's advice, says a clever French writer, is only followed when it is bad, and when she

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Madame N., on beholding the immense acquisitions of fortune made by her husband, thought that now was the moment to separate from him with advantage; but how was this to be done-how effect a séparation de biens was the question; her husband would never consent, and on what pretence could she bring the matter before a tribunal. "It is difficult but not impossible," said Madame N. to her avocat. "There is," said that worthy individual, "the separation de corps, which includes the separation de biens, and which is much more easily

obtained."

From this day a change was to be observed in the establishment of Monsieur et Madame N.: the harmony which had hitherto existed between them vanished. To do the poor husband justice, the fault was not his; his financial occupations never altered his kind, affectionate manner towards his wife; but she, alas! her disposition seemed to change completely; she had become susceptible, sullen, irritable, and jealous, seeking on all occasions to irritate her husband; and when she had succeeded in this laudable design, her noisy lamentations and even cries for assistance might be heard through the house. Poor Monsieur N. was utterly at a loss to understand the meaning of these scenes, and sought consolation in his speculations. One day, however, his patience being completely exhausted, he raised his hand; which means that after raising it he let it descend, and on the fair cheek of Madame! Immediately two witnesses, who had been posted in the adjoining room, came forth; the poor husband was in an attitude of the deepest humility, entreating forgiveness for his deplorable violence; whilst his wife exclaimed, "All is now at an end between us, after this last insult, which puts the finishing stroke to your odious conduct. I leave you, and demand a separation." So saying, she left the house escorted by her two witnesses. In vain the husband begged for pardon; he received for answer that proceedings had commenced. As he did not defend the action, a séparation de corps et de biens was soon pronounced, and the wife, who had brought twenty thousand écus at her marriage, found herself after the separation in possession of six hundred thousand francs, with which comfortable sum she settled down to live in retirement.

Monsieur N. remaining in Paris continued to speculate, and in the end, as his prudent spouse had foreseen, ruined himself. Too proud to address himself to her, in his now altered position, he determined to embark for the United

favours of that fortune which had first smiled on and then forsaken him in the old. Just as he was about to set out, his wife appeared-" As you would not seek me, it is I who must come to you," said she; forgive as I forgive, and fear nothing more from my temper; believe me, I am not the violent, impracticable woman I shewed myself during the latter part of our union; what I did was to attain an object: I wanted to receive the blow you gave me; and I was right; that blow was worth six hundred thousand francs; thanks to it I saved the half of your fortune, which would otherwise have perished with the rest. We are still rich; you will share with me what belongs as much to you as to me." The husband yielded, as he ought always to have done; he had always remained attached to his wife, and he forgave her the ruse which assured him a happy and peaceful future.

Verdi's opera, "Louisa Miller," has great success at the Italiens; the subject is taken from a piece of Schiller's called "L'Intrigue et l'Amour." Mademoiselle Cruvelli enacts the part of the heroine to perfection; in the scenery, dresses, and decoration, expense has not been spared; and what is quite as necessary, everything is in good taste; so I hope the Italiens may succeed better than they have hitherto done.

The Theatre Lyrique gives "Guillery le 'Trompette, ou les Charlatans." The trumpeter Guillery and his friend Sergeant Taillefer having lost themselves in a sierra, come upon the baggage of a quack doctor, or charlatan: what has become of the owner of this valuable possession they do not trouble themselves with inquiring, but determine that it shall serve them in their present difficulty, being unable to rejoin their quartier géneral for want of money; they accordingly attire themselves in the accoutrements of the magicien; they make their way to a town in Estremadura, where they announce a most wonderful exhibition, and even engage to restore the dead to life. The corrégidor to whom they address themselves summons them to fulfil their promise, by restoring to life his ward, who in a fit of despair (caused of course by the tender passion) has killed herself, and has left all her fortune to her betrothed Fabrice, who in concert with the false magicians places Lina in a subterranean passage, which has an entrance to the corregidor's house by a door, of which he knows the secret.

Hardly has the conjuration commencedhardly are the first circles traced by the magic wand-when the door of the subterranean passage opens with a loud noise, and Lina appears. The two lovers take advantage of the stupefaction of the old guardian to obtain at once his consent and the money. He consoles himself for the loss of his Lina and her money by marrying his servant, Dame Leonarde, who had formerly married Taillefer; but as the union had not made his happiness, Taillefer takes good care not to make himself known,

and leaves his spouse to commit bigamy, since such is her wish.

The new cirque is opened; the Emperor went there for the opening, with his suite; the decorations are very fine indeed, and the performances most amusing.

But this is not a good moment for theatres; after the Jour de l'An they will, no doubt, be more numerously attended. Apropos of theatres, here is an anecdote, which if it be not true, ought to be so: A young poet became a prey to the profoundest melancholy; in vain did his friends weary themselves in endeavours to distract him from his sadness, or to induce him to confide to them its cause. At last, yielding to their solicitations, he owned to them that he loved a young lady, whose father refused to give his consent to their marriage. The rejection of his suit was extraordinary, as the pretendant was a good parti-young, agreeable, steady; his conduct exemplary, of an excellent family, and in the possession of a fortune which assured him an independent position; there was also the probability of his acquiring considerable literary fame; all these advantages surely ought to have ensured him a favourable reception, more especially as he did not seek alliance with the aristocracy, the cruel father being merely an old Notaire. But unfortunately prejudice is not confined to any one rank in life, and the old Notaire particularly piqued himself on his invincible aversion to literature, and declared that he never would accept as his son-in-law a poet"more particularly," he added, "a dramatic poet." In vain did the young man offer to abandon literature; he was told that those promises were never adhered to, and besides, the past was too well known to be overlooked.

"A man who has published poetry, and whose pieces have been performed at the theatre, shall never enter my family," said the inexorable old man.

"What is the stern tyrant's name?" asked the friends of the disconsolate lover.

On its being repeated, one of them who was deeply versed in all that related to the dramatic world, and who was possessed of great influence in the theatre, appeared struck by it.

Perhaps all hope is not lost," said he; "and at any rate we hold the means of securing ample revenge. Only give me time to make certain researches, and if they succeed-as I hope they will-the Director of the -Theatre, who is a friend of mine, will lend us his aid."

The enemy of poetry and the drama, who during the greater part of the year inhabited one of the principal provincial towns, on opening his newspaper one morning, read the following announcement:

was hurrying off to the editor of the newspaper, when a letter from Paris was handed to him. This letter was from the Director of the Theatre, stating that the piece, the title of which he mentioned, was in preparation; he begged the author to excuse him for not having informed him of the fact earlier, alleging ignorance of his address, and begged that he would immediately come and direct the rehearsals.

The Notaire had not always had a horror of theatres. Some five-and-twenty years ago, a young man in Paris, he frequented them, wrote poetry, and even some plays; one of which had been received-a subject of great pride and great delight to him then; but the matter had rested there. Other and graver occupations had subsequently engaged his time, and though poetry was abandoned, the play he had written was forgotten as completely by the author as it had been by the theatre; and it was now, after this long interval, so full of changes, so various, that the errors of his youth were to be brought to light to disturb the gravity of his riper years!

In calling to mind these errors, the renegade recollected perfectly all the circumstances of his literary escapades, and shuddered at thinking that not only had he written a play, but that the subject of this play was-to say the least-very light, and contained certain details terrible even to think of.

Hoping still to ward off the danger which threatened him, he wrote secretly to the director, begging that the preparations for the performance of the piece might be stopped, and the manuscript sent him. The answer came by return of post that his request was imposible to grant. Our Notaire started for Paris; his personal reclamation was not more successful.

"You gave your piece to my theatre," said the Director; "its reception constitutes mutual rights, which cannot be withdrawn. You can force me to have your play acted, or make me pay you an indemnity; and I can oblige you to allow your play to be acted. Considerable expense has been gone to for the decorations for your work."

"I am willing to pay," said the unfortunate Notaire."

"But I cannot accept your proposition," said the Director.

"Then I make an opposition."

"So much the better. We will go to law: I am sure of gaining: the procès will make a noise in the world, which will have the best effect, and my Avocat shall read to the audience different passages of the play, which will pique the public curiosity, and when it is played, we

shall have a crowded house."

After this interview, which filled him with despair, our Notaire returned home to try to devise some means to avoid this publicity, which he so much dreaded. In the midst of his dark meditations, the young poet arrived: "Excuse me, my dear confrère," said he, "but I cannot resist telling you the pleasure it gives me to see that you have renounced the opinions you