dirty and comfortless. A passage sprinkled with sand leads you into apartments where you observe the tables to be covered with marks of liquor; and the chairs you will probably find it advisable to dust before sitting down; this will be done by the sturdy servant girl who, bare-legged, and with untied nightcap and scanty bedgown, will, soon after your arrival, hurry into the room with a shovelful of coals as a kindling for your fire. The attendance is as bad as it possibly can be. The waiters are of both sexes, and all are equally ingenious in delay. It is a rule of the house that your bell shall never be answered twice by the same person. If you dine at Mr Macclarty's, I shall not anticipate the pleasure of your meal, farther than to assure you, that you may depend on having here the largest and fattest mutton, and that though it should not be absolutely roasted to a cinder, the vegetables will not be more than half-boiled. In order to obtain a complete notion of this curiously-managed inn, you must not only dine, but sleep and breakfast there. The beds, from their dampness, are admirably calculated to give rheumatisms; and as for breakfast, you must not expect it to be on the table in less than an hour from the time of your ordering it, even although every one of the waiters should promise it in five minutes. At length one bustles in with the tea equipage, and toast swimming in butter. After a lapse of time, another appears with the tea-kettle, which he leaves on the hearth till he goes in search of the tea. And so on, everything is served in detachments, and in a manner calculated to try the temper of travellers. Damp beds, bad cookery, wretched attendance, and slovenliness in everything, are rapidly causing a general desertion of the establishment, and impending ruin threatens this last branch of the old and respectable stock of the Macclartys. A rival house has been set up by a late scholar of Mrs Mason, and as it is conducted with care for the comfort of travellers, and with the most scrupulous regard for cleanliness, it is attracting all the trade to itself-furnishing another example of the advantages of activity and prudence over that slothfulness which leaves everything to be done to-morrow, and excuses itself by that perverse and self-indulgent phrase of Mrs Macclarty-I canna be fashed.

NE morning in the month of August 1789, a man and a child were walking through the extensive and beautiful park of Rambouillet- -a royal residence, thirty-six miles south-west of Paris. The man, though of a somewhat bulky frame, was yet in the prime of life, and had a mild and distinguished countenance. His simple style of dress did not indicate the precise rank which he held in society, yet his aquiline nose, his majesty of air, as well as the broad blue ribbon visible between his white waistcoat and lace frill, marked him as one of the royal family. As for the child, he was remarkable for almost angelic beauty and his clustering curls of fair hair which hung over his open neck and shoulders. About four years and five months old, but, like all precocious children, taller than usual at that age, he bore in his features an air of bright intelligence, shaded, however, as some would think, with a stamp of melancholy unsuitable to his years. Gay and lively in the extreme, his animal spirits were at one moment in wild exuberance; in the next his mood changed to deep depression. His bright blue eyes had the irresistible charm of having their brilliance softened by a pensiveness of expression, calculated to interest all who looked on his fair countenance.

The man was Louis XVI., King of France, the child was his son, Louis-Charles, the dauphin.

"Louis," said the king, "to-morrow is the queen's birthday, and you must think of something new for her bouquet, and compose some little compliment."

"Papa," replied the young prince quickly, "I have a beautiful everlasting in my garden, and it will just do for my bouquet and my compliment too. When presenting it to mamma, I can say, Mamma, I wish that you may be like this flower.'"

"Very good, indeed, my child," said the king, pressing his little hand which he held in his. "How much I wish that your conduct was always as satisfactory as your little sallies are pleasing and full of heart! I grieve to have heard that while studying your lesson with your tutor yesterday, you began to hiss. Was this as it ought to be, Louis?"

"What would you have me do, papa?" replied Louis with an arch smile; "I said my lesson so badly, that I hissed myself.” "What was the abbé explaining to you?" said the king.

"It was the use of the compass, and I own to you, papa, that I am just now greatly puzzled about it. I scarcely heard a word he said. All the time he was speaking, I was thinking how the sun would be burning up my garden and my beautiful flowers, and I was longing to get out to water them; so Monsieur the abbé will be very angry with me to-morrow, for I do not remember a single syllable. If you have time, papa, could you not tell me all about it while we are walking?"

"With pleasure, Louis," answered the king, "particularly as I happen to have a small compass in my pocket. Before, however, attempting to explain this curious instrument, I must tell you something of the magnet, from which its power and usefulness are derived. The only natural magnet with which we are acquainted is the loadstone-a mineral of a dark iron gray colour approaching to black, found in great abundance in the iron mines of Sweden, in some parts of the East, in America, and sometimes, though rarely, among the iron ores of England. Now, the loadstone has a property of attracting iron, which it draws into contact with its own mass and holds firmly attached by its own power of attraction. A piece of loadstone drawn several times along a needle or a small piece of iron, converts it into an artificial magnet. If this magnetised needle be then carefully balanced, so as to move easily on its centre, one of its ends will always turn to the north. Now, Louis, look at this small case. You see in it the magnet, made like the hand of a clock, with that end which points to the north shaped like the head of an arrow. You see that it is carefully balanced on a steel point, and beneath it is a card marked like a dial-plate with north, south, east, west, such being the cardinal points; also the intermediate points, as north-west, south-east, &c. By merely looking at the position of the needle when it settles to a point, the mariner can see the direction in which his vessel is sailing, and regulate his steering accordingly. The case, you see, is covered

with glass, to protect the face from injury. This is a small compass, but there are large ones which are not so well suited for carrying about. Whether large or small, the compass is one of the most useful instruments in the world. Without it, mariners dare not venture out of sight of land, nor would the discovery of America have been made by the great Columbus. You will remember that the magnetic needle always points to the north."

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Papa, tell me, is the compass as useful on land as at sea?"

Assuredly, my child. For example, suppose we were to lose our way in the adjoining forest: I know that the Chateau de Rambouillet lies to the north of the forest, and to find out the north I look at my compass, and take the direction to which the needle points-so." And the king showed his son how the needle would act.

The boy, who had been most attentively listening to his father, suddenly cried, "Do, papa, lend me your compass, and let me find my way by myself to the chateau."

"And if you lose your way?" said the king, a little startled at the proposal.

"But the compass will guide me, papa."

"You are not afraid, then, of being alone in the forest?"

"Was a king of France ever afraid?” replied Louis, proudly raising his pretty fair head.

"Well, be it so," said the king; "here is the compass, and here, too, is my purse, for you may want money on your way. Now let us part; you, Mr Adventurer, may take to the right, I will keep to the left, and I appoint you to meet me at the chateau."

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'Agreed," said Louis, kissing his father's hand as he took from it the compass, and then merrily plunged into the depths of

the forest.

II.

LOUIS AND THE PEASANT.

For about an hour the dauphin pursued his way, directing his course by the compass till he arrived at the borders of the forest, without finding himself nearer home. A large meadow lay before him, in which some peasants were mowing, and he advanced towards them, not to inquire his way-the idea of seeking any other guide but his compass did not enter his headno, he only wanted to know the hour. As he approached, a little dog began barking in rather a hostile way. His master called him back; but the dog did not immediately obey, and the peasant left his work, and with the handle of his scythe gave the animal several blows.

On hearing the cries of the dog, Louis ran to the peasant. "Will you sell that pretty dog, friend?" said he to him.

"Not so fast, my little gentleman," answered the peasant, who did not recognise the prince; "I would not sell my dog, do you see, for all the gold in the king's purse. My poor Muff-my only companion in my poverty-my only friend!”

"Then why do you beat him?"

"He that loves well chastises well, my little gentleman."

Here, friend," said the child, taking a piece of gold from his purse; "I will give you this, if you promise me not to love your dog quite so well."

Astonished at this munificence in so young a child, the peasant said, "One would think you were the son of a king, to give away so much money at a time."

"I am the son of your king," answered Louis, artlessly.

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Pardon, my prince; I ask pardon," said the peasant in great confusion. "Pardon me for having refused you the dog it is yours, my prince, and all that I have besides. Take Muff, my good young prince-take Muff."

"I am much obliged to you, my good sir," answered the child; "but you tell me he is your only friend. Now I have a great many friends, so I will not deprive you of yours. I only want you to tell me what o'clock it is."

"It is three o'clock, your highness."

"But how do you know?-where did you see it?" said the child with much surprise. "You did not look at your watch." "If we poor peasants could not tell the hour without a watch, I do not know what we should do. Sure we have the sun." "And how do you know by the sun?"

“Well, indeed, I cannot tell you that very clearly, my young prince; it is, however, according to its height. When as high as it will go nearly over our heads, and when it casts the least possible shadow anywhere, we know it is noon precisely. According as it comes down lower, and our shadow lengthens, it is one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock, and so on. You see we just judge by the shadows, my good little prince."

"Thank you, friend, for all you have taught me," said the child; and then, notwithstanding the earnest intreaties of the peasant to be allowed to show him the way-steady to his resolve to consult no guide but the compass-he fearlessly struck again into the forest, and at length, after several hours of wandering, now finding now missing the track, he arrived at Rambouillet heated and panting, yet insensible to the fatigue he had undergone from exultation at having, unassisted, reached the end of his journey.

The moment the king saw him, he ran to him with an eager ness that betrayed what had been his anxiety. "I had almost begun to think you had lost your way, Louis."

"Lost my way, indeed! How could I have lost it?" said the

child, with a half-indignant look.