Jupiter, Venus, and Mars, but especially Venus, be blessed. There was the portefeuille apparently untouched, in exactly the position where he had seen the actress deposit it half an hour before, amidst a careless heap of lace, jewels, and gloves. No doubt all was right. The girl, with true artistic contempt for money, and carried off by the much more important contemplation of a new evening costume, had not even looked at it. "She is a real treasure," thought the colonel; "I positively must make love to her myself."

"Mademoiselle," said he, "pardon me this second intrusion; but, charged with several important messages by his majesty the Emperor, I have unfortunately committed a little mistake. This is the portefeuille which I was desired to leave with you. That other (pointing to the thirtyfive thousander) is destined for another person. Would you allow me to make the exchange, and to assure you of my regret for the error I have made."

"Most undoubtedly," answered the lady, with the most charming and innocent empressement. "Believe, colonel, that I congratulate myself particularly on the favour this second visit bestows upon me."

So the desired exchange was made, and the colonel, in a state of rapture at his success, retired amidst a shower of bows, lavishing at the same time on the fair actress a volley of such incandescent looks, that she would undoubtedly have been converted into one grey heap of ashes, had her nature been in the very least degree inflammable.

"Now! isn't that girl a darling, and won't I come back one of these days, and tell her so, with my love?" said the good colonel to himself, as he jumped into his carriage, and ordered the coachman to tear away back to the Tuileries.

He made one gigantic leap up the stairs, and entered the imperial cabinet in a perfect ecstasy of triumph.

"Well," said the monarch, turning sharply round, with half-knitted eyebrows, "what news?"

(Colonel respectfully presenting the recovered portefeuille, and chuckling with self-interior contentment.)

"I told your majesty I was sure of the girl. She is a rare creature; quite a heroine! There was the portefeuille where she had laid it down half an hour before; she had never even touched it."

"Then," said the Emperor, very coolly putting down the portefeuille, which he had quietly opened" then she is a natural daughter of Robert Houdin's, for without touching it she has emptied it. Smart girl that, but rather dear!"

IV.

THE JEWEL-BAGS.

THE Emperor Napoleon III. was certainly born to be an absolute monarch, a real autocrat. What he did the other day with the jewelbags would prove it, even if nothing else did.

The jewels of the crown of France are kept at the Hôtel of the Finances, with many other precious articles, in an apartment prepared and arranged for their especial protection. They are contained in four large leather-bags, of the size of flour-sacks, and are committed to the care of

a most trusty guardian of the name of Thomas, who is, of course, personally answerable for them. A very few days before the marriage, M. Thomas was sent for by his majesty, and was duly ushered into the imperial presence.

"M. Thomas, I believe you have the charge of the crown jewels ?" "Please your majesty, I have."

"I understand that they are contained in four leather-bags of large dimensions?"

They are, sire."

"Well, then, I desire that this evening, at nine o'clock, you will convey here two of these bags-yes-I think two will do-yes-you may go, M. Thomas; I will expect you this evening at nine precisely."

The poor man, whose bewildered amazement was too big for utterance, bowed and scraped himself out, and returned home in blank despair.

What should he-what could he do? Such a thing had never been heard or dreamt of by any one before. The crown jewels, the precious jewels of the crown of France, to be thus unceremoniously danced and dangled about, like patterns from a tailor's shop!-Shocking!-Awful! Dear old Thomas could not have felt more deeply, if the Emperor had proposed to tear out his precious and most useful bowels. Yet, the master had spoken; alas! there was no help for it, it must be done.

At half-past eight that evening, M. Thomas, after many a mournful glance at his precious charge, for the safety of which he had strange and most painful misgivings, lodged them safely beside him in a court-carriage, surrounded by a piquet of cavalry, and found himself in due time deposited at the foot of the imperial staircase.

The bags were, under his watchful care, carried up with all possible tenderness, and he was ushered with them into the presence of his majesty.

66

Very good, M. Thomas," says Napoleon; "I like your punctuality -cela suffit-you may retire."

"But, sire," exclaims the unfortunate Thomas (now really at bay, and carried out of all his retranchements by the intensity of his despair), "allow me to represent to your majesty that the present mode of proceeding is totally without any precedent, and permit me to entreat your majesty to give me, at least, a receipt for

"Pooh! nonsense, man! no necessity at all for it-am I not the master? and does not the constitution give me the free and entire administration of all that belongs to the crown? Good night!"

"But, sire, allow me to entreat your majesty not to act thus. Pray, let me assure you, that these bags are never moved without an inventory of their contents being made, and signed by the prince who issues the order for their removal."

me.

"Much too long; I can't wait; I must have them now."

"Please your majesty, the inventory is ready made. I have it with Here it is."

"Bless the man! why don't you speak then? Come, out with itthat is business-like."

And approaching a table, and taking up a pen, without even looking at the contents of the paper, he added his signature at the place pointed out by M. Thomas.

"There! I hope you are pleased?"

The poor old gentleman, not exactly pleased, but considerably relieved, retired; but not quickly enough to escape a sight which made his financial brain whirl round with horror.

He saw the padlocks thrown off, and the bags opened, and at the same moment two fair ladies came laughing through the doorway of an inner room: they were the Princess Mathilde and the Countess Theba de Montijo.

As soon as they appeared, the Emperor made a sign to two stout valets-de-pied; the bags were overturned, and their dazzling contents spread in an instant on the carpet. The Emperor, turning round and pointing to the floor, exclaimed

"Choisissez, mesdames!"

That was how the jewels of the bride and her fair cousin were so lustrous on the marriage-day, although the gorgeous present of the Town of Paris had been refused.

ATALA AND CHACTAS.

BY W. BRAILSFORD.

Atala appuyoit une de ses mains sur mon épaule, et comme deux cygnes voyageurs nous traversons ces ondes solitaires.-CHATEAUBRIAND.

THUS ever o'er life's misty sea

Clings the sweet loving to the loved;
Thus ever in sweet constancy

Love's changeless nature best is proved.

Thus ever let the storms assail,
Strong adverse winds with fury rage,
Love most is proof amidst the gale,
In every clime, in every age.
Along the unknown waves they glide,
The loved one and his trusting bride.

On, on they float, by love's art blest,
Sustained by truth, and true for ever;
Two fond hearts by no cares deprest,

And loving most where death may sever.
And where the swan's soft nest is made,

Where roving birds are freely singing,
Where faithful troth was ne'er betrayed,

And golden blossoms aye are springing;
On, on they wend their dream-like path,
From ills, from woes, and worldly scath.

The drooping willows as they pass
Are musical with leafy sighs,
And gentle echoes from the grass

Spring like Hope's cheering harmonies.
Ah! what were fate or grief to them,

Or clouds that o'er their union hover? Love's armour and his diadem

Their faithfulness and trust will cover. Love will not fail, or fall away

As the frail flowerets of a day.

They cannot sing, Life seems to be
Too potent in its sense for song ;
Their past a keen reality

To which no words of theirs belong.
Yet oft they smile to think how light
And small their need of earthly place;
How Faith, with golden visions bright,
Their human sorrows can efface.
Ah! what to them were fame, or state,
Or wealth, if each were desolate ?

Still on they float by glen and dale,
As monarchs of the flowing stream;
And not a voice on lea or vale

Distracts the magic of their dream.
The sunbeams through the branches steal,
Low murmurs from the forest come,
And mossy clefts alone reveal

Some likeness of a happy home-
A home where falsehood ne'er hath been,
Or malice with its crafty mien.

Oh! heedless Time! why dost thou move
With steps so eager and forlorn?

Why art not thou akin to Love,

Whose presence charms hearts overworn? We bid thee stay, be bid thee take Sweet portion of Life's cheerful grace;

Why let our music fail to wake

Some smiles upon thy furrowed face? What spell can fold thy dusky wings, What art disarm thy subtle stings?

SOMETHING OF BALTIMORE, WASHINGTON, THE CHESAPEAKE, AND POTOMAC.

BY J. W. HENGISTON, ESQ.

PREPARATORY to starting, at a coach stand in Ninth-street, very near the Philadelphia College, I had hard work to strike a bargain with an Irish cabman to take me to the steam-boat, as a favour, for half a dollar, though his legal fare was only a quarter-dollar to or from any part of the centre of the city; but then I had a portmanteau, and, like our own clever cab regulations, luggage, and distance, and fare is left to the discretionary disputation of both parties. All over America hackneycoaches and cabs are as great a nuisance as in England-impose on one quite as much; but at any rate they are better-looking things than ours, and their horses are better used, and better fed; but here in the States, where there is a real difficulty in bringing the sovereign public to any sort of regulation, there is some excuse, if the wise municipality had not added the extra charge of twenty-five cents for every individual carried. Thus, if you can coax a fellow on the stand, or at any of the stations-where they all rush as ours do to meet the steam-boats and trains-to take you a mile for half a dollar, and your family of three get into the hackney-coach with you, the jarvey claps on an additional quarter for each, and your imposing fare turns out a dollar and a quarter, or five shillings. Now, as the steamers and railways on both routes take one to Baltimore or New York for three dollars-nearly a hundred miles-it does seem quite absurd; but we English are perfectly used to the most monstrous impositions and nuisances of every possible description, entirely owing to our clever contrivance of the law, in such matters carefully provided; both ourselves and the Americans disdaining to take a leaf out of the French common-sense arrangements in such things-the chief part of both our wonderful constitutional freedoms consisting of the most vexatious confusion and contradiction of every single thing meant for the public good! On this hydra's head a very thick volume might be written for the edification both of the mother country and her young saucy giant offspring. But I am in a hurry, and must say a word, before I get into the cab, on the general appearance of the American girls-not much altered since Mrs. Trollope's days, nor Lady Emeline Wortley's, the other day. In dress, at least, there is a great deal of the coleur de rose. They delight in two things especially, the brightest, most heavenly colours-dazzling white, ultra-marine, crimson, and ultra-green; violet and purple are too quiet, but mammas may wear them. Thus, all the misses in their "teens" (and after that the deluge!) are quite butterflies. They dress well, but too flaringly; brocades, satins, china silk crapes, and embroidered shawls— in short, neither Paris nor London can find them anything too fine. The next passion is church, chapel, and sermons; next to dancing and balls, their favourite preacher (as with ourselves in town now and then) is the one thing most talked about and ran after. There is, among other favourites just now, a Rev. Mr. Wordsworth, who draws all the finest bonnets to the Arch-street chapel. Such sermons as we hear in England by our High or Low Church divines would never do here, tamely read from MSS. Here must be nothing less than the poetry of words and