But on the following day, too, the king's door was closed against him. He appeared to yield to his fate, and the report was soon spread that the duke was ill. A court gentleman called twice a day to inquire into his health, and at last the king expressed a wish to see him. On the next day the duke had quite recovered, and when he appeared at Versailles the pages hastened to open the doors of the royal apartments to him. "Well, what is the matter with you?" Louis XV. cried to him, as he entered. "Well, what is the matter with you, sire?" Richelieu asked, as he gazed at the king in amazement. Louis was seated in an arm-chair in a costly dressing-gown of Oriental fabric, with thick silk handkerchiefs bound round his neck and head. It produced the impression of an old woman rather than of a king of France, the ally of the great Frederick. “There—there,” the king said, in a sort of hoarse chant-"it strikes there." And he pointed to his head, neck, and chest. all the victims of the fire-engines. In the halls of Versailles, on guard, on the parade ground, everybody is coughing. Everybody is hoarse, and the young gentlemen call the illness the Russian cough." "But "Not bad," said Louis XV. what good is it to me? I am utterly destroyed for several weeks; I must keep, my room, and I am ennuyé. I did not wish to see you. Kaunitz is ill, the marquise is ill; and do you know why, Richelieu? She wishes to punish me for my adventure. My condition betrayed Now she believes more than did happen, or was intended to happen. She behaves as if she had detected me in an infidelity." me. "You were not very far from it either." The king had a tremendous fit of coughing, and wrung his hands with a glance at Heaven. "Mon Dieu! I unfaithful!" he cried, as loudly as if he knew the marquise was listening at the door. "But the scandalous cold. I tremble with fury when I think that millions are going about who have no cold, and that all the trouble was in vain. Oh! the world is growing worse daily; the men are suffering from colds in the head, and the women from virtue." The adventure, however, was fated to cost France more than a royal cold. The Russian lady was an agent of her empress, and, recommended in this strange way, she carried through, with Kaunitz's assistance, the alliance of the three "petticoats" against Frederick the Great. POETRY. Stands on the summit of the mountain, Here the god Heimdall dwells, the White, t To keep the way unto the Fountain. Heimdall, whose piercing eye can see A hundred miles, the gods' wise Warder, The gateway opens instantly; He bids them pass the Bridge in order. +"Heimdall, the White God," "is the warder of the gods, and is placed on the borders of heaven, to prevent the giants from forcing their way over the bridge. He requires less sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day, a hundred miles around him. So acute is his ear that he can hear the grass growing on the earth, and the wool on a sheep's back."-Ibid. Black grew his brow at Heimdall's word; Shut out from life? left sad and lonely?" "Nay," then replied wise Heimdall; "nay; Now gazed great Thor, first on the black To the fair Bridge the rest are treading. -For this has thou been made the stronger. -Good Words. C. P. THE OLD LETTER. SINCE you have asked, I needs but tell the history I BURNED the others, one by one; but my cour- Twas thus I found it,-through the city's bustle age failed at last, I wandered one still autumn eve, alone: A tall slight form brushed by with silken rustle, One glance I had, in that I caught the gleaming ing, As perfect in its shadowy loveliness. And so she passed, a glorious light about her Clothed, like a summer-dawn, in silver-gray, And left the crowded street as dark without her As winter skies whose moon has passed away. This little gauntlet which her hand was clasping, Fell from her as she reached the carriage door, And floated down, as flutters from the aspen Some trembling leaflet whose brief day is o'er. And I,-I found it on the pavement lying, Pale as the marble Venus-missing hand, Or some small flake of foam which Ocean, flying, Leaves in a furrow of the moistened sand. She was so like some queen of the ideal— With that bright bow, those soft eyes' shadowy gleam I fain would keep this pledge to prove her real, To mark her difference from an airy-dream. And though her glove has unto me been donor Of much sweet thought, yet I can think it well That she should know as little of its owner As I of her from whose fair hand it fell. Why should I drag her from her high position, Her niche above this work-day world's long reach? Hardly a fact, nor wholly yet a vision, She joins for me the better parts of each. A WOMAN'S NO. I said my love was deep and true; She only answered with a jest, A mocking word, a smile at best, As one who nought of passion knew. How earnestly I tried to plead ! Her eyes roved idly here and there, Her fingers toyed with chain or hair, She scarcely seemed my words to heed. At last I said, "then is it so? My darling, must I go away? I turned to go and leave her free; PASSING AWAY. O River of Time! how ceaselessly Thou flowest on the boundless sea! Whether upon the sunny tide The sweet Spring blossoms drop and glide, Or whether the dreary snow-flakes only Fall in the winter cold and lonelyWhether we wake or whether we sleep, Thou hastest on to Eternity's deep. Twas long ago, in my life's sweet May, So often, so sadly, the people say, For what is the transient? and what will last? Our time is flying. The years sweep by As our seas are spanned by arching skies, Eternity's deep is not ebbing away. MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. 'My mother's grave, my mother's grave! Oh! dreamless is her slumber there, And drowsily the banners wave O'er her that was so chaste and fair: Yea! love is dead, and memory faded! But when the dew is on the brake, And silence sleeps on earth and sea, And mourners weep, and ghosts awake, Oh! then she cometh back to me, In her cold beauty darkly shaded! 'I cannot guess her face or form; But what to me is form or face? I do not ask the weary worm To give me back each buired grace Of glistening eyes, or trailing tresses! I only feel that she is here, And that we meet, and that we part; And that I drink within mine ear, And that I clasp around my heart, Her sweet still voice, and soft carresses! 'Not in the waking thought by day, But in some twilight of calm weather And all the passion of a dream, ENIGMA. 'A Templar kneeled at a friars knee; Or called for a contribution, "O Father! in the dim twilight I have sinned a grievous sin to-night; And I feel hot pain e'en now begun For the fearful murder I have done. "I rent my victim's coat of green, I grasped him, Father, all the while, "Though he was rich, and very old, "My son! my son! for this thou hast done, Though the sands of thy life for aye should run," The merry Monk did say, "Though thine eye be bright, and thine heart be light, Hot spirits shall haunt thee all the night, The thunders of the Church were ended; SONNET. MUTABILITY. The earth itself is mobile: through the vast The tropic flamed where now the icy poles And generations rest in sightless urns In cities where the great Atlantic rolls: WHEN IN OUR NURSERY GARDEN. When in our nursery garden falls a blossom, And as we kiss the hand and fold the feet, We can not see the lamb in Abraham's bosom, Nor hear the footfall in the golden street. When all is silent, neither moan nor cheering, The hush of hope, the end of all our caresAll but that harp above, beyond our hearing, Then most we need to trouble Him with prayers. Then most we need the thoughts of Resurrection, Not the life here, 'mid pain, and sin and woe, But ever in the fullness of perfection To walk with Him in robes as white as snow. GRIEF IS SHORT, AND JOY IS LONG. "Joy was never made to last, To death's stillness shall have passed." Deep is calling unto deep, Says, "It is perpetual sorrow, Only grief from time shall borrow." Rise, my dove, and mourn not so; Hide thee underneath my shield, In summer's sun and harvest field; Where the loving shall not sever, BRIEF LITERARY NOTICES. 777 In this the fourth chapter of the first book. MR. KAYE, the author of the "History of the chapter Mr. Kaye shows, or at any rate endeavors to show, that the cardinal error of English policy War in Afghanistan," has issued the first volume of a "History of the Sepoy War in India. "* To lay in the application of a theory, sound in the abstract, but unsuited to the genius and disposius he appears admirably qualified for the task-tion of the people of India. This policy consisted qualified by experience and knowledge-qualified in the systematic obliteration of the landed arisby sobriety of judgment and enlightened impartiality qualified, finally, by ample command of tocracy. There were two processes by which the depression of the native gentry was effected-the material and ability to shape it into narrative vigorof settlement and the process of resumpprocess ously written, clearly arranged, sustainedly inter- tion. First, the great besom of the settlement reesting. Of the value of the resources at his dis- duced the proprietary class to ruin, and converted posal an adequate idea may be formed from the into bitter enemies those whom a different policy fact, that the executors of Lord Canning have would have made the friends of the State. Unplaced in Mr. Kaye's hands the private and demi- der the name of Resumption Mr. Kaye includes official correspondence of the deceased statesman, all those operations which ensued on the failure of extending over the whole of his Indian administra- freeholders required after undisturbed possession tion; that Sir John Lawrence and Sir Herbert for forty years to establish their title by genuine Edwardes have furnished documents for the de- documentary evidence to make good, in this way, scription of the rising in the Punjab; while the their right of proprietorship. These operations are family of the late Colonel Baird Smith, Sir James characterized by Mr. Kaye as wholesale confiscaOutram, Sir Robert Hamilton, Mr. E. A. Reade, tion, involving the fraudulent usurper and the rightand the Secretary of State for India, have all aided ful possessor in one common ruin. Thus, in all good Mr. Kaye in his arduous labors, by furnishing pa- faith and with the most benevolent intentions, we pers, giving personal information, or affording ac- made enemies of a large number of influential percess to official records. Thus a trustworthy and even authoritative account of the Sepoy War is sons-nobles of royal descent, military chiefs with large bodies of retainers, ancient landholders with presumably before us, or rather will be before us their feudally attached dependents; and lastly, when the work shall be completed. The first of Brahmins or priests, "who had been supported by the three volumes, in which the entire narrative the alienated revenue which we resumed, and will be comprised, relates the antecedents of the who turned the power which we exercised over mutiny of the Bengal army, touches on the prin- the minds of others to fatal account in fomenting cipal political events, and describes the social and popular discontent and instilling into the minds of material progress of the previous ten years; and the people the poison of religious fear." after tracing the history of the Bengal army its formation till the retirement of Lord Dalhousie, details the incidents of the first year of Lord Canning's government, and of the commencement of the mutiny up to the period of the outbreak at Meerut and the seizure of Delhi. The first book or division of the volume, which is introductory, relates the conquest of the Punjab and Pegu, discusses the administration of Lord Dalhousie with special reference to the right of lapse, the annexation of Oude, and what the author calls the progress of Englishism. The rise, progress, and decline of the Sepoy army are the topics of the second book; the early life and the beginning of Lord Canning's Indian administration, the Oude commission, the Persian war, and the growth of the mutiny till the final bursting of the storm, form the subject-matter of the third and last book. Of the spirit in which the work is conceived we are not long kept in doubt. from "It was," says Mr. Kaye in his preface, "in the over-eager pursuit of humanity any civilization that Indian statesmen of the new school were betrayed into the excesses which have been so grievously visited upon the nation. It was the vehement self-assertion of the Englishman that produced this conflagration; it was the same vehement self-assertion that enabled And him, by God's blessing, to trample it out. he adds, "If I have any predominant theory, it is this: Because we were too English the great crisis arose; but it was only because we were English that when it arose it did not utterly overwhelm This theory is excellently illustrated in us. "A History of the Sepoy War in India, 1857-1858."' By John William Kaye, Author of the "History of the War in Afghanistan." In Three Vols. Vol I. London: W. H. Allen and Co. 1864. The an tagonism of social reform and positive science to |