These were published in his first pamphlet; but the ex-Prefect pays no regard to them. In his subsequent letter to the Débats he reiterates the charge, but piles up the infamy of the accusation by asserting that Chenu had been condemned for De la Hodde was taken off in one of the hack-theft and assassination. Miot treats the documents ney coaches by Caussidiere and four others, as mere "pretences." But Chenu seems strong Boquet mounting guard with a pistol behind. He upon this point. He threatens an immediate prowas taken first to the Prefecture, then committed secution against the latter for a libel on his chato the Conciergerie, and kept in solitary confine-racter, if he can obtain permission from the Assemment for having, after the 24th of February, bly to institute the proceedings. For, as the reader engaged in a correspondence with the agents of the fallen powers.

Prefect, had profited by his position as a deserter | illness, having but just recovered from the effects to make an agent provocateur of him. He pro- of a serious surgical operation. mised, if means were given him, to go to Belgium, He dates the resolution to ruin him from that and there resume his lawful trade. He wept, and hour. He sought an explanation with Caussidiere, went through all the grimaces of repentance that had been exhibited by his colleague De la Hodde. He was sent off to Belgium; but the Prefect in a few days, having heard of his return, and that he was uttering threats against him, felt it his duty to order him to be arrested. He excused himself for having returned without leave, upon the score that he had been unable to gain a living; and begged to be permitted to join the German (or rather Polish) expedition, promising this time that they should never see him again. Caussidiere was advised by a friend to get rid of him.

"He may go to the devil," replied our sentimental Prefect, "so I hear no more of him."

with reference to the coldness he experienced. The latter told him he had become suspected in the eyes of the Mountaineers, and that, for his own safety, it would be better he should retire. The Prefect then proposed to him a mission to assist the Belgian patriots who, he asserted, were rising in arms to secure the independence of their country. Chenu consented, with, as he says, the firm conviction that it was only a plot to remove him. Caussidiere gave him an official free-ticket for the Northern Railroad, and Chenu started, and took a share in the unsuccessful skirmish at RisquonsTout.

He wrote to the Prefect, but received no answer. He wrote a second time, with the same result. He ascertained that his letters had been duly delivered. His patience was exhausted, and he wrote a third time, thus:

"Swindler! If before five o'clock this afternoon I am not set at liberty, you may read to-morrow in the papers a letter which at present is in a safe place, and which will expose some of your past frauds, as well as the plots you are paving at present. I wish to be free before the evening."

He returned, rather exasperated at the Prefect Chenu's own account is very different. He says of Police, no way seeking to disguise his sentithat, in 1832, he was carried away by the enthu-ments. He was arrested, and thrown into prison. siasm of youth (he was only fifteen) to join the Republican ranks. His astonishment appears to have been extreme at finding that the heroes of his imagination-those whom he had always heard styled "the friends of the people "-absolutely walked and went about like other folks. He became from this time, notwithstanding this little disappointment, sincerely attached to the cause of conspiracy, which he learnt to consider-as M. Caussidiere and his party still, no doubt, consider it as the cause of the people. He got into an He was liberated that day. The first thing he infinite number of scrapes, and declares he was did was to go home to console his wife. He then several times bona fide sent to gaol. He became went out to meet one of his band, with whom he notorious for his hatred of all aristos and re-acs had appointed a rendezvous. Instead of his own (aristocrates and ré-actionnaires), and an inti- friend, he met with one of Caussidiere's, who was mate ally of the democratic-socialists, who are now thunder-struck to see him at liberty, as it had curtailed, in like manner, into democs-socs. He been understood that so important a person was to positively avows, it is owing to thorough conviction have been kept confined till after the elections. It that he has been induced to leave the ranks of the was resolved to arrest him again, but he managed patriots, and become an honest man. He utterly to evade the myrmidons of the Prefect. He was denies his having ever acted as a spy, and defies persuaded by a friend to enrol himself in the Polish the ex-Prefect to produce the slightest item of proof legion, to avoid the danger that menaced him. He against him. did so, and went through various dangers in flood and field, which quite remove him from the sphere of our interest.

According to him, the first serious disagreement between Caussidiere and himself arose after the affaire De la Hodde, when a jealousy had grown In order to testify his extreme indignation at up between Caussidiere and Blanqui, and the for- the calumnies of Caussidiere, he tells him at the mer wished, by a coup-de-main, to overturn the close of the preface to his second pamphlet, ---Moderate party of the Provisional Government, "I predict that one day you will wear the red bonnet consisting of Marrast, Lamartine, Arago, Garnier with which you are so captivated, not as a freedman of Pages, and Pagnerre; in which he wished Chenu ancient Rome, but as a galley-slave at Toulon." to assist. He excused himself, on the score of

(To be continued.)

GROSS AND NET.

Who buyth Londe, buyth eke Stones,
Who buyth Fleshe, buyth eke Bones,
Who buyth Egges, buyth eke Shels,
Who buyth good Ale, buyth Nought els.

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twinkle of the eye; the other dark, handsome, and even a little sombre, but with a nobility and fire about him which made him universally liked.

The two young men were warm friends, though so different in temperament. They had been as brothers for several years, and seemed almost to fancy themselves such.

THREE houses were clustered together on the high road, near Chipping Norton, and formed what, but for adverse circumstances, might, in the course of time, have become a respectable village. On one side of the road was a modern mansion, in the At the time of the opening of our narrative a Elizabethan school, inhabited by one Sir Charles strange man came to reside at Danby Hall-as the Danby, a gentleman of small fortune, who resided modest relic of a fine castle and estate was called. apart from the world with an only daughter, not He was a tall, sombre, fanatical-looking indimore than fourteen years of age at the time of vidual, and was said to be a relative of Sir which we speak, which was at no distant period Charles's. It was whispered that he was a monk; from the first outburst of the civil wars. On the but of that none could swear, as they were beginopposite side of the way were two small houses, ning already to be in bad repute; and he kept his the one inhabited by an honest saddler, named profession to himself, if such it was. But there Hind, the other by the widow of an officer who was something odd in his manner-a softness, and had served abroad, and who educated a son, a lad yet a fierceness-a habit of searching the heart in of sixteen, according to her slender means. Hind, his conversation-a peculiar solemn manner of too, had a son named James, who, being an only giving advice, in fact, all the usual traits by which child, he fondly brought up in knowledge and piety; for the saddler was one of that fervent and noble sect of puritans, whom not all the sneers of two centuries have sufficed to degrade in the minds of men who fear God, and admire them who truly and sincerely serve him, and care for no will but His. The widow was more attached to the Church of the State, and educated her son accordingly.

men know the members of the pestilent Jesuitical sect, whose learning, which is so often praised, only served to make them more dangerous and hateful, giving them power to carry out their designs, which would plunge the whole human race. into slavery and mental darkness; who are the apparent servants and tools of despotism and super-, stition-in reality its high-priests and masters.

Now, Sir Charles Danby was not only a once This man began by talking to the two lads, and gay man, but a proud one; and yet for several tried them on various topics. He found Hind years an intercourse had taken place between his rather careless and thoughtless, but still imbued tenant's children and his own. Ralph Lilburne, with respect for his father's puritanism and relithe widow's son, and James Hind, the saddler's gious enthusiasm, which slander has painted in boy, had permission to range the small park, relic such ridiculous aspects; he found Ralph a firm and of a noble one, which appertained to the modern staunch Protestant, undecided as to any particular. mansion-the old one lay in ruins at no great dis-sect, but leaning towards the peculiar views of tance-and had been a kind of playmates for Clara Calvin, whose genius the youth already could Danby, who seemed equally fond of the lively, admire. racketty James, and the graver Ralph. The one tended her pony, made her bow and arrows fit for use, rowed her in a tiny boat on the river that ran near the house, played at all kinds of romping games, and was her Quixotic knight and champion; while Ralph would read her poetry, and such other slight literary productions as his mother had in her poor home; he would tell her all he knew-and his widowed mother, a woman of superior mind, had well tutored his-and, above all, instil into her a most fervent admiration of God in his works; for thus early was Ralph a warm believer. Clara a little feared him at times, but she treated him with the deep respect we show to an elder brother; while James was, as it were, a child of her own age.

And yet lively Jack, as he was called, though it should have been Jim, and serious Ralph, were both tall and proper youths; the former a fair-haired, fair-complexioned, jovial-looking lad, with a merry

Satisfied by his examination, the stranger sought Sir Charles Danby, and had with him a secret conference. Sir Charles, though proud, was good-natured; and when Father Peter warned him of the danger of leaving two heretics in constant communion with his daughter, he laughed. He was a sort of Roman Catholic himself, very much as Charles II. was a Protestant; but he was vastly indifferent in religious matters, and, but for subsequent events, would have little cared if his daughter had turned to the reformed religion. He little knew that her young head was already full of doubt, and that Ralph Lilburne had proved very nearly a proselyte-maker. Her eyes had been partially opened, sufficiently to make her receive her own tenets with suspicion, and to make her compare the two. Nothing more is needed to make a man or woman a Protestant than to awaken such hesitations, if powerful agencies be not at work on the other side.

"Sir Charles," said Father Peter, crossing his | least I can do is to provide for Clary's play-felhands on his breast with great humility, "to which lows." of these gallants do you mean to wed your daughter?-to the saddler's apprentice or the lansquenet's son ?"

Sdeath, man, what do you mean?" cried the Baronet hotly.

"That your daughter is approaching womanhood, and seeing no other youths but these, will naturally

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Dang it, friend, the very reason she shouldn't! Odd's pittikins, man, nothing is so much against love than opportunity. I never cared for a wench I could see every day. Clary looks on these two lads as humble playmates-foster-brothers."

"You know best, my son," said the priest; "I have done my duty. I wash my hands of the consequences." And he left the room.

Sir Charles began to muse, and grew a little uneasy. That he was poor, made him wish the more for a rich and noble alliance for his daughter. He had lived in retirement precisely to economise sufficiently to appear at court with splendour when his child was sixteen. He spent only a third of his income, while part of the rest was secretly invested in commercial speculations with one Southers, in London-an honest merchant, who dealt largely with Holland, and who paid good interest for the investment. Now if Clara, as she approached womanhood, should have her bosom inflamed by a passion beneath her, though he would never let it end in marriage, it might interfere with his hopes, and cause his daughter pain. Still, Sir Charles did not like to do an act of unkindness to youths he had protected and favoured; and he bethought him of some plan which should conciliate his pride and his good-nature.

That same evening he sent for Mrs. Lilburne and for the saddler, and, premising that the lads were of an age to do something for themselves, asked them both what were their future intentions. The saddler replied, that his son had expressed a wish to be apprenticed to the chief butcher of Chipping Norton; and though he would have wished to have seen him do something better, yet he would not think of controlling his wishes. He had originally wished to go to the house of James Smith, of Oxford, but that was impossible; the premium being too high.

The saddler thanked God fervently as he left the house; and Mrs. Lilburne shed tears of grief and pleasure. She was certain that Ralph only wanted a proper field to succeed; and though a mother's heart grieved at parting, yet she hesitated not a moment.

Next day all was arranged as the Baronet had proposed, except that Ralph made his mother promise, that as soon as she could sell her furniture, and his time was up, she would come up to London, where immediately he began to get on in the world, she would become his housekeeper. Sir Charles made a present to each of the youths before starting, and Clara, with tears in her eyes, gave both a small purse to put it in, bidding them never to forget their little sister. And at the end of a week they had started; and thus went James Hind and Ralph Lilburne forth in the world to seek their fortunes. The priest rejoiced, but events will prove that he overreached himself. The day came when the two lads could claim such a bride as Clara. Had they stayed at home this never could have been.

CHAPTER II.

THE BUTCHER APPRENTICE.

FOR the present we leave the serious Ralph to follow lively Jack, who, with a stout stick in his hand and a bundle on his shoulder, started on foot for Oxford a few hours after his friend had climbed into a waggon, which, after many days, was to deposit him safely in the streets of London. Jack was light of heart. He was one of those who when in love can eat a shoulder of mutton at a meal, and whom no events in life scarcely serve to render grave and thoughtful. Such characters generally turn out ill in life. A man who never thinks can scarcely be good; and all of us can trace back in life impulses which, if yielded to, would have proved neither right nor just. Except with a selfish man, second thoughts are generally best; and those who act on impulse often do harm, even when the heart is good. The heart has two instincts, one bad, the other good; and a man whose faults are laid to his heart and not his head should feel little complimented. The commentary means, if it signify anything, he is a fool who has a bad heart. No act can be good which the head soundly condemns, except where the head is selfish, and from this vice, when powerful, nothing good can arise. Jack Hind, then, was a compound. He had reason enough to know what was ill, his heart had an instinctive dislike of crime, and yet his head was weak enough to make him admire bold crimi

Mrs. Lilburne said, that her whole income amounted only to a very few pounds per annum, and she had yet been wholly unable to devise any means for her son's future progress in the world. She had tried to give him honesty, honour, and such little knowledge as she possessed herself; but she knew not what to think of as to the future. "My worthy friends," said the Baronet good-nals-in this sharing the sentiments of the many, naturedly, "Jack shall go to Oxford, and Ralph shall go to London. I will pay the premium to Smith, and you can repay it when convenient. As to Ralph, I fancy he is little fitted for ordinary trade. He writes well, he ciphers, I am told, and has a general aptitude for pen and paper. Southers, my London agent, will take him as clerk, on my recommendation. Now, od's pittikins! no speeches. I hate thanks. The boys are good boys; and the

alas, who excuse almost all faults under cover of success, and who pardon, in the great line, what they condemn in the small. And so Jack, with a light heart, a respect for his father's piety, an instinctive love of all that was daring, a mind that was sufficiently impressionable to be guided by the last influence, an admiration for generosity, much softness of sentiment, with ardent fondness for pleasure, stepped along on his way to Oxford. He could

scarcely tell why, but he had chosen the butcher's but with much of the tallness and bony qualities of

trade in preference to all others; and it was therefore with intense satisfaction that he found himself on the high road to the town where he was to see the fulfilment of his wishes.

He found Mr. James Smith, the great Oxford butcher, to be one of those men who, having made their way in the world from a very low origin, seek in their ignorance and pride to revenge themselves on their early memories, by being coarse, brutal, and despotic, with those who remind them of their own early days. Hind had not been one week his apprentice before he bitterly felt the difference between the house of a stranger and home. There was not an hour in the day when he was not subjected to the brutalities of his master. Tall, bony, and of immense strength, the butcher looked as if he could have felled an ox with his hand. Jack, therefore, had very little chance with him. He was compelled for a time to submit to foul language, kicks and blows, which made his blood boil with indignation. He vowed at the end of the first week, that he would bear all to be revenged another day; and from this inauspicious beginning may be traced much of the subsequent career of Mr. James Hind.

The butcher's wife was a little, active, bustling woman, of whom her husband stood in great awe. She could read and write, she kept his accounts, while to her civility and activity was chiefly owing the success of the business. Mr. Smith often felt inclined to wreak his fury on the quiet little body; but Mrs. Smith, or Dame Smith, had a spirit of her own, and always threatened that her first blow should be her last. "Take care, Jim," would she say, "I am neither an ox nor a 'prentice, and hands off. Be a brute if you like, but not with me. All Oxford shall know of the day you lay your little finger on my arm, and you may find who ye can, Jim, to keep your books and shop."

And Jim Smith cowed before her. She had been his master's pretty daughter, and he their handsome 'prentice. Caught by his good looks, the silly wench married him, and gave him the business her father left her. Though a coarse, passionate man, James Smith had been a pretty fair husband. From sixteen to one and twenty he had spoken to his master's daughter cap in hand, and in humble tones, and when married, he could never get over the customs of his boyhood. Dame Smith was always the daughter of old Praten for him. Perhaps it was the necessity of nursing his wrath with his wife, that made the butcher overflow so with others. However this may be, he fully made up for his submission in one quarter by his despotism in others. The worst of extremes meet; and a despot has always something before which he is slavish, even if it only be his passions. Jack remained five years with his rough master, learning his trade, and that most excellent virtue, patience. But he learned also something else, which requires some explanation.

her father. In looks, character, and even manner, she copied her male parent far more than her mother. At first she was rude and impudent to the apprentice; but then she was only thirteen. Now, however, the girl had become a woman, and the boy was entering manhood, and a remarkable change ensued. Martha Smith fell in love with James Hind; and being perfectly aware of what her mother had done before her, gave herself no uneasiness about the matter. Her sudden gentleness, her softened tones, her constant attempt to be in the society of lively Jack, opened the eyes of the 'prentice. He was delighted. Not that he cared one halfpenny for Martha-she was too like her father for that; but then he conceived that he might now torment his master. The boy took council with himself. Should he marry Marthato spite the father, or should he do worse? The demon of revenge spoke unceasingly in his ears, and he seemed inclined to listen to it. He knew well that the ignorant upstart-men of right feeling and heart, who rise from obscurity to noble positions, are not upstarts-would never let his daughter marry a poor apprentice. So intense was the lad's hatred of the father, that he would have been content to take a woman he cared not for to wife, simply to arouse rage and fury in the heart of James Smith. James Hind in after-life did many a generous and praiseworthy act; but his sufferings on this occasion from ill-treatment filled his heart with the worst passions, and doubtless paved the way for much of his future recklessness. To render the fruition of his hopes easy, he did not discourage Martha by a discovery of his own want of love. He spoke kindly to the girl, and while never appearing to understand her conduct in any other light than as extreme condescension, he acted his part with consummate skill for so young a hypocrite.

One evening Dame Smith went out to visit a sick friend, and Mr. James Smith crossed over to the tavern to drink. Martha and Jack Hind were left alone. The girl was standing in the door-way of a little, dark, back room, Jack was putting away the meat still left unpurchased, and generally righting the shop, which was even more comfortless than a butcher's shop of the present day, we being, in England, about a century behind the French in this particular.

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Jack," said Martha in a low tone, “ain't you very tired?"

"No," replied Hind, in a half surly tone, for he was brooding over his ills, I ain't."

A silence ensued. Martha pouted a little, and looked down at the floor; the 'prentice, looking up at her, remembered his part, and once more played it.

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Jack," exclaimed Martha, suddenly, "don't be a fool, though you are only a 'prentice, did'nt my mother do it before me?"

The butcher had a daughter, who was not more than seventeen when James Hind became twenty-all She was good-looking, as most girls are at that age, with the prestige of youth upon them,

one.

"What?" said Jack.

"Why, marry, to be sure," responded Martha,
blushes and confusion.

"And you mean that, do you?" asked Jack.
"Why, do you see, Jack, I thought you'd be

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