"THE TIMES" ON THE ALLIANCE WITH FRANCE.

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will prevent us from speaking our opinion | tions, and plots, and of making the natural fully and freely. To refrain from doing so susceptibilities of the Emperor and the nawould be to compromise, not to support the tion the means of accomplishing these cheralliance, to betray our joint interests, and to ished objects. render the disruption of the tie certain and inevitable. We have spoken of the value of the alliance of France to England; were those who continue this envenomed controversy acting in good faith for the honor and interests of their country, we might urge something of the advantage to the reigning dynasty of the alliance of England with France.

As little would it avail to appeal to the patriotism of journals given over, for reasons on which we need not enlarge, to the interests of Russia, and ready at any tim^ and in any way to advocate what the Czar requires, though by so doing they sacrifice all for which the allies have fought and conquered. With these two classes of persons it is vain to rea son on the advantages of the alliance; the one wish to destroy it in the interest of the exiled Royal family, and for the purpose of overthrowing the present dynasty; the other that they may sweep out of the paths of Russia the principal obstacle to her regain ing in the Cabinet that which she has lost by the sword. We are free from either motive. We neither wish to undermine the

But we forbear to enlarge on this topic, always an invidious one, because we are well aware that the honor and advantage of France are not the points of view from which these questions are regarded by such journals as the Assemblée Nationale and the Constitutionnel. We have, and can have, no other object than the interest of England; but the case is very different with existing Government of France for the pur journals which lend their columns to the pose of bringing back the Bourbons, nor to support of pretenders to the French Crown, replace Russia in the position which she foror to those who have found in the smiles and feited by her own arrogance and folly. cajoleries of foreign Courts inducements Therefore, though it would be extremely more powerful than patriotism or good faith. convenient for those who have these objects To such persons and their organs the English to sow dissension between the two countries, alliance is not an advantage to be secured, and then cast the blame on us of acts really but an obstacle to be removed. The advo- stimulated by hostility to their Sovereign and cates of the exiled house of Bourbon feel adherence to the enemies whom he has vanthat in the cordial alliance and co-operation quished, we decline the part so perfidiously of England the Emperor of the French is offered us. If the alliance be in danger, possessed of a strength fatal to their dreams that danger does not come from us; we will of return to power, and that they can in no hold by it so long as we are permitted to do way so effectually serve the cause, as they so; and if it should ever unhappily be brocan in no way so thoroughly gratify the feel- ken off, we will, at any rate, take care that ings of their exiled patrons, as by sowing the responsibility of this great crime against dissension between the existing dynasty and the interests of two great nations and the its best and sincerest friends. To what end welfare of the whole human race shall be talk to such persons of the interests of attributed to the selfish, ambitious, and France? Their thoughts are of the interests crooked policy from which alone it really of the house of Bourbon, of fusions, coali-springs.

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SYMBOLS OF SAINTS. I have an old painting | features appear deeply clouded with grief, and which represents the half-length figure of a the eyes are intent upon an open book supported female, vested in a dark cloak, drawn over the by a skull. I shall be obliged if some corhead like a hood, with the edge of a plain cap respondent should be able from the above deshowing below, and a crown of thorns wreathed scription to inform me what saint in the Calenoutside it. The neck is swathed in white linen. dar is intended. Notes and Queries. The hands are pressed on the breast, and the right holds a crucifix; the cross blossoming out on either side in flowers resembling lilies, and its top shooting up into a stem of flowers, amongst which a paper bearing J. N. R. (probaby Jesus noster Redemptor) is seen. The

AN English mechanician has invented an instrument for accurately determining both latitude and longitude, without the assistance of a chronometer and without lunar observationsan observation of the sun, only, being required.

of some very important measure that he is he has expected it for years, and that no trying to carry through parliament, and man who ran after every new theory that saying that he had made a very able speech was started, and took a part in every in the House upon it, and was much trusted specious project that turned up, could by his party. I read that speech in the reasonably look for any other result. Uncle paper, at least, I dare say it is that one; Joshua is very hard and unconciliatory. but he speaks often. It strikes me that he He does not seem at all distressed at the clings with intense pertinacity to his pur-verification of his sagacious previsionsposes;;—that old obstinate look,—I wonder rather the reverse, indeed. When my father whether his gray face wears it still? If stated the case in his hesitating way, he there were a chance, I would go to hear him blustered out, after his usual manner : some night, for old friendship's sake.

"Pretty interest your philanthropy is likely to bring you, brother James!—a fool and his money are soon parted." My poor father looked miserable, especially when he had to confess that Darlston must be sold. Uncle Joshua cast up his hands, and cried:

February 25. Last night Maria Constant and I got into the gallery of the House, after a grand crush, and I heard Mr. Danby speak. He is not very fluent, but he brings out a few nervous, detached sentences, that are very much to the point; and when he James, you're surely mad to talk of sellhas said his say, down he sits. He reminds ing Darlston: things can't be so bad as me of nothing so much as a hammer driving that?”—“They are as bad as bad can be. in a nail with a few steady strokes. I was We must make our home at Norfleet hencesurprised to observe how gray his hair has forward," my father answered. At this become, and what a worn, overworked look announcement, Uncle Joshua looked as if there is on his face. They say he is a he were struck dumb, shook his head, and thorough-going, practical, energetic man of walked out of the house. As soon as he business. was gone, May began to cry, and to hang about my father in her fond, affectionate way; it was very distressing; she begged that they might not be separated, whatever should happen. It is a comfort in our adversity to feel that there is no disunion amongst us. Aunt Dorothy got her coaxed away, and then my father and I had a long talk about ways and means. It was very late before we got to bed, and then I could not sleep for thinking of all the changes that were to come. We go to Norfleet in a few days.

February 28. We are all very uneasy about my father just now; I never saw him in such a restless, perturbed state before. I wonder what could make him rush into speculation; we had money enough and to spare, without gambling for more.

March 17. At a dinner-party at the Petershams' last night, we met Mr. Danby. Papa had some talk with him, and he took notice of May, remarking that she is like what I was. She is much prettier than ever I was, even in my best days. We exchanged half-a-dozen sentences about indifferent matters, and both looked and felt awkward with each other. I could not help remembering that speech I made to him so long ago, which broke off our engagement. Charlotte's "penniless lieutenant" has met with quick promotion.

March 30. I am miserable about my father; he looks ill and anxious to the last degree. If he would only speak, and tell us what he fears or suffers, it would be better than this silent expectation of we know not what.

April 2. My father looks calmer this morning than we have seen him do for months; he feels, at least, that all is known-the very worst. Uncle Joshua says

April 17. at poverty.

This is going to be no playing O, surely if my poor father had known what disastrous consequences to all of us his foolish speculations were to produce, he would not have been so rash! We left him in London yesterday, and arrived here this afternoon about dusk. If ever there was a house that had "haunted" legibly inscribed on the face of it, surely Norfleet Manor-house is the place. Dowker has come with us, and has done nothing but grumble since she set her foot over the doorstone. Matters look unpromising enough, certainly. It is a wet night to begin with, and the parlor-fire smoked so we have been obliged to let it go out; the paper on the walls is not only damp, but it hangs in rag

ged festoons; there is no carpet, and very spindle-legged tables. By dint of glorious little furniture. We have all done our best fires, bunches of lilac and laburnum in the to be cheerful, but it was a miserable effort; vases, and our books and other feminine beand now poor little May is fretting herself longings scattered about, we have succeeded to sleep. in making a very picturesque and cosy home for ourselves. If only my dear father would be more cheerful.

April 18. A better day than could have been expected. There is a charm and an invigorating power in spring sunshine: this morning rose very bright and clear, and I found myself hopeful and cheerful. We have all been hard at work as carpenters, upbolsterers, and housemaids, and have done what we could to reduce this old place to order. How very fortunate my father did not come down with us! Aunt Doe is a whole host of servants and work people in herself; for she is one of those clever women who can turn their hand to any thing as readily as if they had been born to it. By Ler advice we have forsaken the large parlors for two little wainscoted rooms with bow-windows that look into the garden. We have to make the chintz-covers and curtains ourselves, under Dowker's querulous superintendence. She never looked to see her young ladies work, she reiterates: and all our misfortunes she resents as private, personal afflictions. Faithful old soul!

May 9. We are grieving down now, and gradually fitting ourselves to the new life. We have all found out that we have a till now undeveloped taste for gardening; and for the last ten days we have been at work in our mossy wilderness. After all, it is a very pretty spot: the view of the house from the further side of the river is most picturesque: but papa fancies the ivy makes it damp. I hope he will not insist upon having it all torn down before Laura and her husband come, for then it will look naked and dreary. Aunt Doe has been busy yesterday and to-day with Dowker, getting ready rooms for them and a nursery for the youngster. I am glad they are coming, if it is only to stir my father out of his languid apathy, which he suffers to grow upon him more and more every day.

May 15. The house is turned completely upside down since Laura, Norton, and the April 27. My father came down from baby arrived; but the fuss has done my London yesterday, looking, to our sorrow, father good already; he is beginning to look very ill and worn. He gives way to his de- more like himself again, which is a great. pression more than we anticipated; and comfort. But to think that I, Mistress now that all necessity for exertion is over, Margaret Arden, am to be reduced to a mere he is sinking into a state of dull apathy cipher in the house by a squalling chit of from which nothing seems able to rouse him. eight months old! It is preposterous, incredIle sits the whole of the long mornings in ible, yet painfully true. This shows me tho his dressing-room, not reading or writing, or additional consequence a woman gains by doing any thing that we can discover but fulfilling her vocation in the old-fashioned ponder over and lament what is now irre- way. Laura, ten years younger than I am, trievable. What a fortunate thing it is we a married mother, treats me with the civilhave been able to make some of the house est patronage in the world. First, I must cheerful! If he had seen it as we saw it give up my bedroom to be converted into a first, I do not think he would have stayed. nursery, because it has a southern aspect, We are all rather proud of the results of which will be suitable for baby; then I must our exertions in the upholstering trade; for be awakened every morning at five o'clock, in our great Darlston house we had no-I, who never get up till the day is well rooms so comfortable as our two old-fash-aired,-by its crowing next door to me. ioned parlors, when the sun shines. The No longer ago than yesterday, I caught it furniture, re-covered with red and white gnawing the cover of my precious RocheeLintz, is quite seemily; and we have discov-foucauld's Maxims: Laura said it was its ered a quantity of grotesque china orna-gums or its teeth. Teeth, indeed! Well, I ments in one of the cupboards, which fits out the mantel-pieces and cabinets very appropriately. It is ugly. May says; but it is in keeping with the stiff-backed chairs and

hope the little mischief has imbibed some of their bitterness. What is the good of being an old maid, I should like to know, if I am to be deprived of my privileges in this way?

From The National Magazine. UNCLE GEORGE; OR, THE FAMILY MYSTERY.

liked him. The sick rich, who could— especially the ladies-declined to call him in when they could get any body else. In experience he gained greatly by his profession; in money and reputation he gained nothing.

BY WILKIE COLLINS. AUTHOR OF "AFTER DARK," "BASIL," ETC. Was it an Englishman or a Frenchman who first remarked that every family had a There are very few of us, however dull skeleton in its cupboard? I am not learned and unattractive we may be to outward apenough to know; but I reverence the obser-pearance, who have not some strong passion, vation, whoever made it. It speaks a start- some germ of what is called romance, hidden ling truth through an appropriately grim metaphor a truth which I have discovered by practical experience. Our family had a skeleton in the cupboard; and the name of it was Uncle George.

I arrived at the knowledge that this skeleton existed, and I traced it to the particular cupboard in which it was hidden, by slow degrees. I was a child when I first began to supect that there was such a thing, and a grown man when I at last discovered that my suspicions were true.

My father was a doctor, having an excellent practice in a large country town. I have heard that he married against the wishes of his family. They could not object to my mother on the score of birth, breeding, or character-they only disliked her heartily. My grandfather, grandmother, uncles, and aunts, all declared that she was a heartless deceitful woman; all disliked her manners, her opinions, and even the expression of her face-all, with the one exception of my father's youngest brother, George.

more or less deeply in our natures. All the passion and romance in the nature of my Uncle George lay in his love and admiration for my father. He sincerely worshipped his eldest brother as one of the noblest of human beings. When my father was engaged to be married, and when the rest of the family, as I have already mentioned, did not hesitate to express their unfavorable opinion of the disposition of his chosen wife, Uncle George, who had never ventured on differing with any one before, to the amazement of every body, undertook the defence of his future sister-in-law in the most vehement and positive manner. In his estimation, his brother's choice was something sacred and indisputable. The lady might, and did, treat him with unconcealed contempt, laugh at his awkwardness, grow impatient at his stammering—all that made no difference to Uncle George. She was to be his brother's wife; and, in virtue of that one great fact, she became, in the estimation of the poor surgeon, a very queen, who, by the laws of the domestic constitution, could do no wrong.

George was the unlucky member of our family the rest were all clever; he was When my father had been married a little slow in capacity. The rest were all remark- while, he took his youngest brother to live ably handsome; he was the sort of man that with him as his assistant. If Uncle George no woman ever looks twice at. The rest had been made president of the College of succeeded in life; he failed. His profession Surgeons, he could not have been prouder was the same as my father's. He had, like and happier than he was in his new position. my father, the best medical education that I am afraid my father never understood London and Paris could afford; and he the depth of his brother's affection for him. profited by it, by dint of dogged industry, so All the hard work fell to George's share : as to be quoted among his medical brethren the long journeys at night, the physicking as one of the promising surgeons of his time. of wearisome poor people, the drunken But he never got on when he started in cases, the revolting cases-all the drudging, practice for himself; for he never succeeded dirty business of the surgery, in short, was in forcing the conviction of his knowledge turned over to him; and day after day, and experience on the wealthier class of month after month, he struggled through it patients. His coarse ugly face, his hesitating without a murmur. When his brother and awkward manners, his habit of stammering sister-in-law went out to dine with the when he spoke, and his incurable slovenli-county gentry, it never entered his head to ness in dress, repelled people. The sick poor, feel disappointed at being left unnoticed at who could not choose, employed him, and home. When the return dinners were

given, and he was asked to come in at teatime, and left to sit unregarded in a corner, it never occurred to him to imagine that he was treated with any want of consideration or respect. He was part of the furniture of the house, and it was the business as well as the pleasure of his life to turn himself to any use to which his brother or sister-in-law might please to put him.

So much for what I have heard from others on the subject of my Uncle George. My own personal experience of him is limited to what I remember as a mere child. Let me say something, however, first about my parents, my sister, and myself.

duty by me. If I seem to speak constrainedly of them here, it is not on my own account. I can honestly say that with all my heart and soul.

Even Uncle George, fond as he was of me, was fonder of my beautiful child-sister. When I used mischievously to pull at his lank scanty hair, he would gently and laughingly take it out of my hands; but he would let Caroline tug at it till his dim wandering gray eyes winked and watered again with pain. He used to plunge perilously about the garden, in awkward imitation of the cantering of a horse, while I sat on his shoulders; but he would never My sister was the eldest born and the best proceed at any pace beyond a slow and safe loved. I did not come into the world till walk when Caroline had a ride in her turn. four years after her birth; and no other When he took us out walking, Caroline was child followed me. Caroline, from earliest always on the side next the wall. When we days, was the perfection of beauty and interrupted him over his dirty work in the health. I was small, weakly, and, if the surgery, he used to tell me to go and play truth must be told, almost as plain-featured until he was ready for me; but he would as Uncle George himself. It would be un-put down his bottles, and clean his clumsy gracious and undutiful in me to presume to decide whether there was any foundation or not for the dislike that my father's family always felt for my mother. All I can venture to say is, that her children never had any cause to complain of her. Her passion- When I was eight years old and Caroline ate affection for my sister, her pride in the was twelve, I was separated from home for child's beauty, I remember well, as also her some time. I had been ailing for many uniform kindness and indulgence towards me. months previously; had got benefit from My personal defects must have been a sore being taken to the seaside; and had shown trial to her in secret, but neither she nor my symptoms of relapsing on being brought father ever showed me that they perceived home again to the midland county in which any difference between Caroline and myself. we resided. After much consultation it was When presents were made to my sister, pres- at last resolved that I should be sent to live, ents were made to me. When my father until my constitution got stronger, with a and mother caught my sister up in their maiden-sister of my mother's, who had a arms and kissed her, they scrupulously gave house at a watering-place on the south me my turn afterwards. My childish in-coast.

fingers on his coarse apron, and lead Caroline out again, as if she had been the greatest lady in the land. Ah, how he loved her!-and, let me be honest and grateful, and add, how he loved me too!

stinct told me that there was a difference in I left home, I remember, loaded with their smiles when they looked at me and presents, rejoicing over the prospect of looked at her, that the kisses given to Caro- looking at the sea again, as careless of the line were warmer than the kisses given to future and as happy in the present as any me, that the hands which dried her tears in boy could be. Uncle George petitioned for our childish griefs touched her more gently a holiday to take me to the seaside, but he than the hands which dried mine. But could not be spared from the surgery. He these and other small signs of preference like consoled himself and me by promising to them, were such as no parents could be ex- make me a magnificent model of a ship. I pected to control. I noticed them at the have that model before my eyes now, while time rather with wonder than with repin- I write. It is dusty with age; the paint on ing. I recall them now without a harsh it is cracked, the ropes are tangled, the sails thought either towards my father or my are moth-eaten and yellow. The hull is all mother. Both loved me, and both did their out of proportion, and the rig has been