summed up in a long and able speech by M. Bignon, the advocategeneral. The cause, he said, was more like a romance or drama than sober reality. "Love and hatred, the two great passions which govern the world, here set in movement the whole action, just as they are made to do in the pieces at the theatre. In works of art, however, one spring of passion is seen to dominate the other; whereas in this affair one does not know to which we may attribute the extraordinary results set before us: on the one side the love of a father, which fortifies him to endure hardships and imprisonments rather than give up his son; or, on the other side, the artifice of a wretched venal soul, leading him to adopt this language and borrow the character of a father. Again, there is the love of a mother for her children, whom she would protect against a strange intruder, or the unconquerable hatred of a hard heart against her own flesh and blood." Proceeding

in this tone, M. Bignon pleaded, with great skill and verve, the cause of the defendants against Jeanne Vacherot. The widow must have trembled in her seat with the fear that he would declare against her. But her alarm was dissipated, when, after following the counsel opposed to her, and even gathering up little points that they had overlooked, he came to state the case as from her point of view. He acquits the Vernon magistrates of malice, and of all fault save undue haste, and makes light of the voice of the people, who, always credulous and easily surprised, at once believed in the resemblance of the beggarboy to the lost boy. He therefore concluded that Jean Monrousseau should be set at liberty, and receive back his son, and that the money set apart for his provision should be restored to Jean Vacherot. On Maundy Thursday of the year 1659 a decree in conformity with the above conclusion was pronounced by the President Lamoignon. Thus ended a litigation which had lasted four years, envenoming the relations of a large family, and destroying the peace of a respectable town

ROBERT HARRISON.

Her eager fingers grasp the page,

That with its every word beguiles,

That of its roses robs her cheek

While tears are falling through her smiles.

V.

Delicious picture! May I dare
Pursue it to its sunny end,
See her red lips the missive press

While blessings with her kisses blend?
No, hungry heart, that holds for truth
Each idle picture love can make,
The trumpet-call of duty sounds,

The dream is over-I awake.

WILLIAM SAWYER.