and scrupled not to enliven the dulness of the evening circle by drawing her out; while she, poor soul, too happy to occupy his attention even for an instant, consented willingly to become his butt; and thus it often happened that the Princess T- daughter, widow, and sister of princes and heroes, was employed to divert the ennui of many a little gentilhomme campagnard, or hobereau de province, who might as matter of form and neighbourly feeling chance to be invited to dine at the château. But, as I tell you, although perfectly aware of this, for she was by no means wanting in penetration, she cared not so that 'ce cher prince' found amusement; indeed, I think she even felt honoured by the preference accorded to her above the other guests.

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"However, she failed not upon other occasions to avenge herself these witnesses of her discomfiture, and in her turn crushed without pity every one around her who was not 'the prince,' or allied in some way with him, or one whom he delighted to honour. With others, never was there a more rogue et fière Allemande, and in spite of her good nature and generosity she had more enemies than many who sought less applause.

"She was the most eccentric person I ever met with; the last of a race of which it will be impossible from the change in human ideas ever to behold another specimen. In her youth she had been most beautiful, and still retained, saving the loss of an eye, traces of loveliness even in advanced age. She could not be called either clever or witty, but was the cause of such interminable wit in others, of such endless good sayings on the part of the prince, that Valençay, to those who were accustomed to her society, seemed dull à perir when she was not there. She had the greatest fund of originality and natural vivacity that could be possessed by any human being. Her ideas could not be made by any force of reasoning or persuasion to follow the tide of improvement of the times, and she could never be taught to believe that the revolution had wrought any change in the relative positions of the aristocracy and the people, but continued to the latest years of her life to treat all plebeians and roturiers as though they had still been serfs and vassals, subject at her will and pleasure to détresse and corvée. She was an invaluable specimen of the old insolent noblesse; and after a day spent in her company you might retire to rest, no longer wondering at the horrors of the great revolution, nor yet of the hatred by which they had been instigated.

Upon one occasion she had nearly set the whole province in an uproar by an unseasonable display of what the prince was wont to call her impertinence Regence. A large party had been invited to dinner at the château, a party in honour of the arrival of some high and illustrious visitor at Valençay; I think there were even scions of royalty among the guests. In short, it was one of the gaudy days of the castle, when the flaming yellow liveries, and the antique silver, and the royal gifts were all displayed. Of course the préfet of the department, the maire of Valençay, the curé, and in short, all the authorities of the place had been invited, and with true provincial punctuality had arrived at the exact hour named in the invitation, which, as usual in modern times, was long before the princely host expected to receive his guests; and when they were ushered into the drawing-room, they found that none of the family had as yet appeared, and that they would be consequently compelled to amuse themselves as

best they the might until the sounding of the bell, which would gather together the stray members of the household.

"In a short time, however, the great doors of the drawing-room were thrown back with a loud fracas, and in sailed, in all the majesty of stiffened silks and fluttering plumes, her highness the Princess TThe troubled provincials immediately with one accord turned from the chimney, where they had been talking in mysterious murmurs concerning the mighty individuals whom they were to meet at dinner, and moved in a body with sundry low bows, and great display of gymnastic prostrations, towards the fair princess. The latter stood for a moment, and gazed as they advanced, then turned suddenly round to the grinning domestic who had remained standing at the door:

"Fool!' exclaimed she, indignantly, did I not bid you ascertain if any body had arrived, before I troubled myself to come down to the

salon ?'

"Yes, princesse, and I came myself to see,' answered the servant, looking rather puzzled and embarrassed, first at his mistress, then at the guests, who stood wondering where the questioning would lead to, and when I found these gentlemen here, I'

"Idiot!' interrupted the princess, 'not to know your business better; remember that such as these are not any body, but NOBODY!'

"With these words she tossed out of the room, pointing with her fan over her shoulder at the poor stupified provincials, whose rage and mortification defy description, and who were not slow to spread the tale of her insolence and haughtiness throughout the country round, and the circumstance caused the princess to be viewed with no very friendly eye, as you may well imagine.

"Soon after this occurrence, having occasion to visit Paris, she left Valençay in her carriage, drawn by four horses, and driven by the postmaster himself. Her highness was always in a most tremendous hurry, and loved to be driven at a tremendous rate. This the postmaster knew well, as he had been in the habit of driving her for years. He accordingly took much pains upon the occasion to which I refer, to go as slowly as possible, in order to vex and worry the princess, whose temper was not long in breaking forth, and she presently began by calling after the driver in the most imperious manner to hasten his speed. This injunction not being attended to with as much alacrity as she could have wished, she began to pour forth volleys of abuse, seasoned with sundry fierce sounding exclamations and oaths in the Polish language, to which, upon great occasions like the present, she was wont to give utterance (according to her own account quite unconsciously). The man bore this for some little time, perhaps rather more diverted than otherwise at the thought of the trick he was playing one of those 'infernal aristocrats ;' until at length, no longer able to contain her indignation, the princess seized the footstool which was at the bottom of the carriage, and hurled it at the postilion, with such unsteady aim however that the missile flew far above his head. 'Dolt!' shouted she, standing upright in the carriage, and gesticulating fiercely 'do you imagine you are carrying a load of manure to market?' Ma foi,' exclaimed the postmaster, coolly dismounting from the saddle, 'many's the load of manure I've taken which has fetched at market twenty times more

than you would.' With these words he deliberately set about unharnessing the horses from the carriage, and, bidding the other postilion do likewise, he turned back towards Valençay, leaving the carriage standing alone in the midst of the long solitary road, with not a human habitation in sight, and night coming on. Her shrieks and

menaces were all in vain; the man having paused to light his pipe, with the greatest sang froid, jogged by the carriage window, cracking his whip with fiendish enjoyment of her terror, until he got to the very bottom of the hill, and was lost to sight. The princess could never be prevailed upon to tell the sequel of the story, nor of the means by which she had been extricated from her most mortifying situation; and as neither of her tall valets nor her talkative maids could ever be induced to betray the secret, it was thought that she had compelled them all four to turn out into the road and drag the carriage to some wayside alehouse, where she could rest till horses arrived. I know not if this was the case, but she certainly was quite capable of doing it.

"A goodly sized volume might be filled with her naivetés and unconscious witticisms, for it was her total indifference to the good things that she uttered, and her contempt for the effect which they produced, that constituted their greatest charm.

"I shall never forget the effect produced in the salon one evening by an event which occurred a short time before the prince's embassy to London, and which served to égayer the society for some time. Among other ancient traditions of the courtly life of former days which she loved to maintain, and one too which completely coincided with her tastes and habits, was the custom of the petit billet, a usage which has been completely lost since the time of the great revolution, and which might be taken as a specimen of the time-killing, fiddle-faddle occupations in which the noblesse of that day passed away their lives. This custom of the petit billet still exists in many of the old families wherein courtesy and etiquette are still maintained, at least among the elder members. It consisted in writing a short note of inquiry every morning to the person beloved, who answered it likewise in writing, for no verbal message would have been received. Of course the contents of the note could not be much varied. There could be nothing to say but day after day the same 'good morrow,' with inquiries how the night had been passed, and other questions of small interest which the present generation, who live deep and fast, expending their sentiments and energies on greater things, have no time to make. I myself know a married couple of the old school who, like all married couples of the old (French) school, have been separated de corp et de biens for the last forty years, and who have never missed once during the whole of that time sending the petit billet de matin. I was once thoughtless enough to rally the lady upon this constancy, when she replied angrily, Monsieur, although Monsieur le Comte and myself may not choose to live together, yet our mutual position, and the rank we both hold in society, prevent our enjoying the privilege of dispensing with the common customs and formalities of the circles in which we have both been bred. In renouncing all idea of love for each other, we have not renounced good breeding.' Well, the princess, who was, as I tell you, à cheval upon etiquette with regard to the prince, never appeared in the morning without having been preceded by her petit billet, although the prince never thought fit to en

courage her absurdity by sending a written answer. One evening she had retired earlier than usual, and, shortly after, just as the company was breaking up, a note was handed to the prince by the princess's valet. We were all rather alarmed at first, fearing that she might have been seized with illness; but presently the billet was handed about amid roars of laughter; there was naught to fear; it ran thus: Cher prince. How are you this morning? I myself am far from well, having passed a wretched night, although when I did sleep I dreamt of you, which was some little consolation amid all my agitation and restlessness.' The note bore the morrow's date, and had been given by the careless servant some twelve or fourteen hours too soon! Upon inquiry it proved to be the habit of the princess to write these little billets over night, to avoid being disturbed in the morning; they were laid on her toilet table, whence the valet had taken the one in question, without inquiry and without reflection. Of course the prince was merciless; the Princess de T― furnished the standing joke of the season, and was never left in peace until some new absurdity caused the story of her 'precautionary measure' to fade in the back ground."

CAMPBELL'S FUNERAL.*

BY HORACE SMITH.

"TIs well to see these accidental Great,
Noble by birth, or Fortune's favour blind,
Gracing themselves in adding grace and state
To the more noble eminence of mind,
And doing homage to a bard,

Whose breast by Nature's gems was starr'd,
Whose patent by the hand of God himself was sign'd.

While monarchs sleep, forgotten, unrevered,

Time trims the lamp of intellectual fame.

The builders of the pyramids, who rear'd

Mountains of stone, left none to tell their name.

Tho' Homer's tomb was never known,

A mausoleum of his own,

Long as the world endures his greatness shall proclaim.

What lauding sepulchre does Campbell want?

'Tis his to give, and not derive renown.

What monumental bronze or adamant,

He was buried in Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey, his pall being supported

by six noblemen.

Campbell's Funeral.

Like his own deathless Lays can hand him down?
Poets outlast their tombs: the bust

And statue soon revert to dust;

The dust they represent still wears the laurel crown.

The solid abbey walls that seem time-proof,
Form'd to await the final day of doom;
The cluster'd shafts, and arch-supported roof,

That now enshrine and guard our Campbell's tomb,
Become a ruin'd shatter'd fane,

May fall and bury him again,

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Yet still the bard shall live, his fame-wreath still shall bloom.

Methought the monumental effigies

Of elder poets that were group'd around,
Lean'd from their pedestals with eager eyes,]
To peer into the excavated ground,

Where lay the gifted, good, and brave,

While earth from Kosciusko's grave,

Fell on his coffin-plate with Freedom-shrieking sound.*

And over him the kindred dust was strew'd
Of Poets' Corner. O misnomer strange!

The poet's confine is the amplitude
Of the whole earth's illimitable range,
O'er which his spirit wings its flight,
Shedding an intellectual light,

A sun that never sets, a moon that knows no change.

Around his grave in radiant brotherhood,

As if to form a halo o'er his head,
Not few of England's master spirits stood,
Bards, artists, sages, reverently led
To wave each separating plea

Of sect, clime, party, and degree,

All honouring him on whom Nature all honours shed.

To me the humblest of the mourning band,

Who knew the bard thro' many a changeful year,

It was a proud sad privilege to stand

Beside his grave and shed a parting tear.

Seven lustres had he been my friend.
Be that my plea when I suspend,

This all-unworthy wreath on such a poet's bier.

"And Freedom shriek'd as Kosciusko fell."-Campbell.