belows, ribands, and laces,-in a word, shewed the simplicity of Quakerism without the gaucherie. His own manners and those of his wife were calm, respectable, quiet, and unobtrusive. Still, the tailor, it is true, could not be quite sunk; and the neighbouring gentry, though polite, were shy; they evinced the forms, but not the cordiality, of good neighbourhood. But the tailor cared not a button for them. He had effected his own plans, and had his own resources. In the mornings, instead of taking the pattern-book, and going about among first-rate customers, he took his fowling-piece, and went among the grouse and partridges. When the shooting season had passed, or when the weather lowered, he became more intent upon his farming accounts, and studied works on agriculture, with a view to the introduction of new modes of farming in Scotland, as to which, with the help of an English bailiff, he did in some measure succeed, greatly to the wonder and edification of his neighbours. But a contested election came, and the tailor commanded three votes. He was somebody then, and both candidates were equally ready to "sink the tailor."

Not only did he vote for the successful aspirant; but, on his own health being proposed after dinner, he made a speech,-and such a speech! It was, indeed, worthy of being remembered, -abounding as it did in good and cordial feelings,-unpretending, modest, sensible, witty, humorous ! This clenched matters in his favour; and henceforth, with one accord, his neighbours determined to "sink the tailor." But is this all? No; as years rolled on, there came greater changes. The proud race of Kilspindock declined more and more into insignificance, till at length, on the demise of that laird who had succeeded to him of the laced coats and haughty temper, our friend the eloquent tailor was found by the deed

of entail to be heir-at-law to the whole landed property. He, however, never did, and never would, take possession of Kilspindock Castle as a place of residence, but made it over to his eldest son, a promising student, educated at Cambridge for the English bar, and who shortly afterwards married a young lady of good rank in Scotland. So much for the annals of foolish pride and wise industry!

Talk against tailors, indeed! We intended only eight pages, and shall keep within the measure. But let those whose tongues are most nimble against the craft- let them, we say, before they utter another word only try whether they can emulate, or even in a remote manner imitate, the tailor's acquirements and virtues! For example, let the scoffer endeavour to stitch two or three buttons on an old coat, or mend a button-hole. How he will fret, fume, and toil over the work which to the vigilant and long-suffering tailor has at length become a mere matter of pastime! How will his threads entangle, his knots disentangle, his needles break, and wound his own bungling hands; and after all, when forsooth the job is supposed to be finished, the coat, within an hour's wear, proves in a worse predicament than before! If so, if even the merest and most superficial trifle is to the uninitiated thus laborious, what must be the intricate, fathomless, incomprehensible seams of an entire new coat! And yet, with what miraculous combination of imperturbable patience and juggler-like vivacity is this work performed by the tailor! How he must have resisted and tamed down the worst frailties of human nature, its restlessness, variableness, and obstinacy, before he could possibly arrive at this perfection of art! Verily, the good tailor is a wonderful character. He is a philosopher and practical moralist of the highest grade.

write my Impressions de Voyage as well as Alexander Dumas. To pubIsh the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, in a French journal, concerning the grand affair in which our ship's company has been engaged, would have the effect of keeping me a simple sailor all my life; therefore I consign this my log-book to my brother tar Tom, whose acquaintance I made afloat, and he may, if he pleases, publish it in The Times of London, which the Sentinelle de la Marine says has done more for the English naval service than all the journals, great and small, in France for our navy.

At the end of June every thing was ready for our departure. Our captain (God bless him!) did not delay us. On the 2d of July he had left Paris, and on the 6th he had arrived at Toulon. In a few minutes after his arrival, his royal highness was aboard. The moment our captain put foot on the quarterdeck, he launched forth into praises of our activity, zeal, &c. This noble and right royal fellow owed us these compliments at the least. On hearing the pleasing words fall out of the corner of his royal mouth, we flung up our castors high in air, and raised such a shout, Diantre! as frightened all the tunnies into the Bay of Ciotat.

In a minute or so, the captain was between decks. He longed to see the chapelle ardente covered over with black velvet embroidered with silver. There he found the imperial cenotaph with two figures representing History and Justice, the decoration of the Legion of Honour, and a figure representing Religion; at the angles were four eagles, and at the base the imperial crown. Our ship's crew expected to see all the old and faithful servants of the emperor. We hoped, nay believed, that in so sacred a mission favour and favourites would be alike overlooked.

There came on board, indeed, old and trusty friends of the "Grande Homme;" so far all was well; but there also came certain courtly folks, to whom the smell of pitch and tar was a pure abomination.

"Out on these fiddle-faddle muscadins!" said I to myself at the first blush, "for they spoil my self-satisfaction;" but, on second thoughts, I said, "Perhaps I may accustom myself to their

grimaces, though I like not a bone in the skin that holds them."

I have already told you, Tom, who was our captain. Our first-lieutenant was M. Charner, capitaine de corvette. Charner is still a young man, but he is the right sort of timber, without knot or splinter. He has both head and heart, and counts already honourable services. The aide-de-camp of the Prince was M. Hernoux, capitaine de vaisseau, and deputy. Touching this biped, mum's the word. He's an officer, Tom-I'm only a sailor, and I hope I know my duty. The Prince was also accompanied by l'Enseigne Touchard, as officier d'ordonnance. M. de Rohan Chabot, a very young man- I had almost said a child-appeared as commissary charged by the king to preside at the exhumation and translation of the body. Such a choice undoubtedly excited more murmurs than smiles aboard, but none of our crew had a voice in his majesty's councils, and all the world said it was right and proper.

And now to the better side of the picture. We had also with us the Baron Las Cases, Lieutenant-General Baron Gourgaud, Lieutenant-General Bertrand, with M. Arthur Bertrand his son, all companions of the emperor's exile.

These worthy men were received by the ship's company with respectful sympathy. We also recognised with pleasure four old servants of the emperor-St. Denis and Noverrat, valets de chambre; Pierron, officier de bouche; and Archambault, piqueur. M. L'Abbé Felix Coquereau, a comely and very fat-faced priest, was the ship's chaplain. We were led to hope that the Comte de las Cases, the venerable author of the book which all who know how to read have already read, would also be of our party; but we heard his son explain, that age and infirmities prevented his parent from fulfilling the wish nearest to his heart.

The moment the Abbé Felix Coquereau laid hold of the cable d'abordage I saw, that like your humble servant, he had read the maritime romances of M. Eugene Sue. The oily man of God brushed back his black and bushy locks, and in good round well-set phrases made us a speech so soft and silky, that I

had a mind to break its euphonous uniformity with a few Gallic G

d-s.

I have no touch of the saint in me, my dear Tom, as you well know, but I love all the cloth as a part and parcel of the remembrances which recall my infancy, my native village, and my poor old mother.

Neither M. Felix Coquereau, nor his allocution, recalled any of these pleasing recollections. The mixture of seminaristic modesty and nautical devil-may-care-ishness which his portly person perfectly typified almost caused me to laugh outright. As it was, I put my tongue in my check; but my more indiscreet companions laughed outright sailorly, and the fat young priest became the object of scrutiny and inquiry on the orlop deck. Every one asked who he was, whence he came? At length we learned that his sacerdotal campaign was limited to a dozen sermons preached at Cherbourg. We learned that the respectable and moral ministry of Thiers was opposed to the nomination of the abbé, but that powerful petticoat influence had carried the day at last. These details excited the very equivocal interest attached to this priest. For myself, I thought the man self-sufficient and theatrical. He had the apostolic air to a T; but then he also had a fine leg and foot, and a silk stocking which fitted him to admiration. Ah! mon cher Tom, les charmans mollets et les bas de soie noire si supérieurement tirés !

Some there are who will ask what silk stockings and a fine calf had to do with so solemn a ceremony; but you shall see by and by that these well-made stockings, fitting like a glove, and this superb sacerdotal calf, were not without their uses.

A simple sailor like me--and such you know I am-had opportunities of approaching the servants of the emperor only. Tu Dieu! what a fine set of fellows! What noble bearing, what affability and politeness they evinced towards our ship's company! How different from the well-fed varlets of bankers and agens du Change! “Tel maître, tel valet," is an old proverb. These fellows felt and knew whom they had served; they smelt of Marengo and Austerlitz, and not of the Exchange and the Caisse.

The corvette La Favorite set sail with us, commanded by Capt. Guyet. A word as to this worthy and excellent officer. The sailor who knows how to write may not say what he thinks of indifferent officers; but, on the other hand, he is free to speak as he lists of such as he thinks good sailors. Captain Guyet is the father of his crew. Amidst them he appears, as it were, in the bosom of his family. Invested with such authority, there are few in any country who exercise it so mildly as he does.

Guyet, parbleu, is always on his quarterdeck. He is not the man to dally and dangle about the antichambers of the little great, and he is therefore aide-de-camp to neither king nor prince.

The valet-de-chambre of the emperor, Marchand, of whom he said in his last will, “The services which he rendered me were those of a friend," embarked on board the Favorite. It was easy to see that this worthy fellow deserved all that his master had said of him. From Toulon to St. Helena, and from St. Helena to Cherbourg, he never once forgot himself. He continued, as he began, simple, modest, affable, and obliging.

At half-past seven o'clock, on the 7th of July, the weather being beautiful, we set sail for St. Helena. The country presented, as far as the eye could reach, a curious and imposing spectacle. The coast, which assumes the form of a vast amphitheatre covered with olive, vine, and fig-trees, intermingling with bristling batteries and forts, seemed too narrow and confined to contain the immense mass of living beings assembled from the adjacent communes to witness our departure. Oh, inevitable destiny! It was on the very spot where the hero first gained his laurels that this multitude pressed to witness our departure to collect all that remained of his merely mortal body. Then there rose to heaven from the grey and parched heights of La Malgue tens of thousands of aspirations for our safe arrival and speedy return, from the very spot on which the hero stood while he pointed successfully his cannon. One hundred thousand voices swelled the diapason of prayer and praise; for we were the deputies sent by France, aided by the people of England, to wash out a

stain, and to bring back a glory. In the midst of this immense concert of acclamative vivats, mingled with the roar of the artillery of the forts, La Favorite stood out first to sea. Heaven seemed to lend favouring breezes, for the corvette spread out all her sails, and with a fresh nor' wester bounded out of the roadstead. The Belle Poule weighed somewhat sooner, believing the corvette to be the faster vessel, and not wishing to be outsailed. The weather continued beautiful for several days. Nothing remarkable aboard. At daybreak, on the 16th of July, nine days after our departure from Toulon, we entered the bay of Cadiz. I had often been to Cadiz before, and I thought I knew the place; but whether my "clay was made muddy" by an extra glass, or whether I was mad with joy, I know not, but Cadiz appeared to me new it seemed as though I had beheld it for the first time.

Seen either at daybreak or by moonlight, the bay of Cadiz is a thing unique. The mouth, narrow at the entrance, is defended by the forts of Matagorda, so admirably placed, that the two points on which they are built seem to have jutted out of the sea designedly to receive them. In the distance is seen the city itself,-Cadiz, the charming Cadiz, with those white and beautifullooking houses, as though they were built of alabaster. These very mansions were the cradle and the rampart of Spanish independence. At a time when all the fortresses, all the cities of the kingdom, bent their brows before the brother of Napoleon-when priests and monks invoked Heaven to shower blessings on the head of the new king-when the tribunals resounded with his name, in which justice was then administered when the national troops abandoned the country to Guerillas, driven back as they were to the inaccessible mountains-when Ferdinand himself, dethroned and a prisoner at Valençay, asked in marriage the hand of one of Napoleon's sisters,-Cadiz alone, and unchangeable still, proudly held up her head; and, amidst the thundering of our batteries, here the Cortes fabricated the constitution of 1812. It was strange, amidst all these souvenirs, to see in 1840, in the very same bay, two

I delight in Cadiz. It is the pleasantest place in the world for us tars. Les femmes, mon cher Tom, voilà la beauté de Cadiz. Nothing on earthI had almost said in heaven-is comparable to the beauty of their figures, their soft glances, their large warm velvety eyes. And then their feettheir delicious, darling little feetshod in the prettiest satin shoes in the world! And withal so soft and tender (that is to say, when not jealous), so affable and spirituelles, so prone to give a decided preference to French sailors, proving at once their discernment and just appreciation! But, if I pursue this subject further, I shall make you thundering Jack Tars jealous as the Turk! The pavé of the place is delightful. It seems expressly made for the pretty feet, silk-stockinged and satin-shod, which tread upon it "from night to morn, from morn to dewy eve." Would that I could here cast anchor for the rest of my life!

While we lay in the roadstead, the Prince's long-boat took him ashore nightly. He paraded the streets of Cadiz incognito, as said, and doubtless thought, the secretary of embassy. But the townspeople soon recognised our captain, and followed him to do him honour. I know not whether my partiality for Cadiz blinds me, but I discovered in the reception of the people for our prince a delicacy and cordiality which pleased me mightily. I don't think it could be surpassed, though it certainly might be equalled, at Paris.

In that same Paris I, nevertheless, have heard people, who ought to know better, say what savages those Spaniards are!

The indiscreet people of the town (there are such to be found every where) sometimes made the blunder of mistaking M. Chabot, the Com missaire du Roi, for the Prince of Joinville. The commissaire appeared rather pleased at this, though it annoyed our ship's crew sadly. In fact, we soon ascertained that M. Chabot desired to prolong these blunders as