'THE STORY OF OUR LIVES FROM YEAR TO YEAR."—SHAKESPEARE.

ALL THE YEAE ROUND.A WEEKLY JOUKNAL.

CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.WITH WHICH IS INCORPORATED HOUSEHOLD WORDS.

9.] SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 1859. [PRICE

A TALE OF TWO CITIES.En SIfjrcc 'tfoofcs.

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

BOOK THE SECOND. THE GOI/DEN THREAD.CHAPTER VII. MONSIEUR THE MARQUIS IN TOWN.

MONSEIGNEUR, one of the great lords in powerat the Court, held his fortnightly reception inhis grand hotel in Paris. Monseigneur was inhis inner room, his sanctuary of sanctuaries, theHoliest of Holiests to the crowd of worshippers inthe suite of rooms without. Monseigneur wasabout to take his chocolate. Monseigueur couldswallow a great many things with ease, and wasby some few sullen minds supposed to be ratherrapidly swallowing France; but, his morning'schocolate could not so much as get into thethroat of Monseigneur, without the aid of fourstrong men besides the Cook.

Yes. It took four men, all four a-blaze withgorgeous decoration, and the Chief of themunable to exist with fewer than two gold watchesin his pocket, emulative of the noble and chastefashion set by Monseigneur, to conduct thehappy chocolate to Monseigneur's lips. Onelacquey carried the chocolate - pot into thesacred presence; a second, milled and frothedthe chocolate with the little instrument he borefor that function; a third, presented the favourednapkin; a fourth (he of the two gold watches)poured the chocolate out. It was impossiblefor Monseigneur to dispense with one of theseattendants on the chocolate and hold his highplace under the admiring Heavens. Deep wouldhave been the blot upon his escutcheon if hischocolate had been ignobly waited on by onlythree men; he must have died of two.

Monseigneur had been out at a little supperlast night, where the Comedy and the GrandOpera were charmingly represented. Mon-seigneur was out at a little supper most nights,with fascinating company. So polite and soimpressible was Monseigneur, that the Comedyand the Grand Opera had far more influence withhim in the tiresome articles of state affairsand state secrets, than the needs of all Trance.A happy circumstance for France, as the likealways is for all countries similarly favoured!—always was for England (by way of example),in the regretted days of the merry Stuart whosold it.

Monseigneur had one truly noble idea of ge-neral public business, which was, to let every-thing go on in its own way; of particular publicbusiness, Monseigneur had the other truly nobleidea that it must all go his way—tend to hisown power and pocket. Of his pleasures, gene-ral and particular, Monseigneur had the othertruly noble idea, that the world was made forthem. The text of his order (altered from theoriginal by only a pronoun, which is not much)ran: "The earth and the fulness therof aremine, saith Monseigneur."

Yet, Monseigneur had slowly found that vulgarembarrassments crept into bis affairs, bothprivate and public; and he had, as to both ckssesof affairs, allied himself per force with a Farmer-General. As to finances public, because Mon-seigneur could not make anything at all of them,and must consequently let them out to some-body who could; as to nuances private, becauseFarmer-Generals were rich, and Monseigneur,after generations of great luxury and expense,was growing poor. Hence, Monseigneur hadtaken his sister from a convent, while there wasyet time to ward off the impending veil, thecheapest garment she could wear, and hadbestowed ner as a prize upon a very richFarmer-General, poor in family. Which Farmer-General, carrying an appropriate cane with agolden apple on the top of it, was now among thecompany m the outer rooms, much prostratedbefore by mankind—always excepting superiormankind of the blood of Monseigneur, who, hisown wife included, looked down upon him withthe loftiest contempt.

A sumptuous man was the Fanner-General.Thirty horses stood in his stables, twenty-fourmale domestics sat in his halls, six body-womenwaited on his wife. As one who pretended todo nothing but plunder and forage where hecould, the Farmer-General—howsoever his ma-trimonial relations conduced to social morality—was at least the greatest reality among thepersonages who attended at the hotel of Mon-seigneur that day.

For, the rooms, though a beautiful scene tolook at, and adorned with every device of deco-ration that the taste and skill of the time couldachieve, were, in truth, not a sound business;considered with any reference to the scarecrowsin the rags and nightcaps elsewhere (and not sofar off, either, but that the watching towers ofNotre-Dame, almost equidistant from the two

VOL. L

194 CJun. 25,185HO ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

extremes, could see them hoth), they would havebeen an exceedingly uncomfortable business—ifthat could have been anybody's business, at thehouse of Monseigneur. Military officers destituteof military knowledge; naval officers with noidea of a ship; civil officers without a notion ofaffairs; brazen ecclesiastics, of the worst worldworldly, with sensual eyes, loose tongues, andlooser fives; all totally unfit for their severalcallings, all lying horribly in pretending to belongto them, but all nearly or remotely of the orderof Monseigneur, and therefore foisted on allpublic employments from which anything was tobe got; these were to be told off by the scoreand the score. People not immediately con-nected with Monseigneur or the State, yetequally unconnected with anything that was real,or witli lives passed in travelling by any straightroad to any true earthly end, were no lessabundant. Doctors who made great fortunesout of dainty remedies for imaginary disordersthat never existed, smiled upon their courtlypatients in the ante-chambers of Monseigneur.Projectors who had discovered every kind ofremedy for the little evils with which the Statewas touched, except the remedy of setting towork in earnest to root out a single sin, pouredtheir distracting babble into any ears they couldlay hold of, at the reception of Monseigneur.Unbelieving Philosophers who were remodellingthe world with words, and making card-towersof Babel to scale the skies with, talked withUnbelieving Chemists who had an eye on thetransmutation of metals, at this wonderfulgathering accumulated by Monseigneur. Ex-quisite gentlemen of the finest breeding, whichwas at that remarkable time—and has beensince—to be known by its fruits of indiffer-ence to every natural subject of human interest,were in the most exemplary state of exhaustion,at the hotel of Mouscigneur. Such homes hadthose various notabilities loft behind them in thefine world of Paris, that tho Spies among theassembled dovotoes of Monscigueur— forminga goodly half of the polite company—wouldhave found it hard to discover among the angelsof that qpbere, one solitary wife, who, in Tiermanners and appearance, owned to being aMother. Indeed, except for the mere act ofbringing a troublesome creature into this world—which does not go far towards the realisationof the name of mother—there was no such thingknown to the fashion. Peasant women keptthe unfashionable babies close, and broughtthem up; and charming grandmammas of sixtydressed and supped as at twenty.

The leprosy ot unreality disfigured every humancreature in attendance upon Monseigneur. In theoutermost room were half a dozen exceptionalpeople who had had, for a few years, some vaguemisgiving in them that things in general weregoing rather wrong. As a promising way ofsetting them right, half of the half-dozen hadbecome members of a fantastic sect of Convul-sionists, and were even then considering withinthemselves whether they should foam, rage, roar,#nd turn cataleptic on the spot—thereby setting

up a highly intelb'gible finger-post to the Future,for Monseigneur's guidance. Beside these Der-vishes, were other three who had rushed intoanother sect, which mended matters with a jargonabout " the Centre of truth:" holding that Manhad got out of the Centre of truth—which didnot need much demonstration—but had not gotout of the Circumference, and that he wasto be kept from flying out of the Circumference,and was even to be shoved back into the Centre,by fasting and seeing of spirits. Ainong these,accordingly, much discoursing with spirits wenton—and it did a world of good which neverbecame manifest.

But, the comfort was, that all the companyat the grand hotel of Monseigneur wereperfectly dressed. If the Day of Judgmenthad only been ascertained to be a dress day,everybody there would have been eternallycorrect. Such frizzling and powdering andsticking up of hair, such delicate com-plexions artificially preserved and mended,such gallant swords to look at, and such deli-cate honour to the sense of smell, would surelykeep anything going, for ever and ever. Theexquisite gentlemen of the finest breeding worelittle pendent trinkets that chinked as theylanguidly moved; these golden fetters rang likeprecious little bells; and what with that ringing,and with the rustle of silk and brocade and finelinen, there was a flutter in the air that fannedSaint Antoine and his devouring hunger faraway.

Dress was the one unfailing talisman andcharm used for keeping all things in their places.Everybody was dressed for a Fancy Ball that wasnever to leave off. From the Palace of theTuileries, through Monseigneur and the wholeCourt, through the Chambers, the Tribunalsof Justice, and all society (except the scare-crows), the Fancy Ball descended to the CommonExecutioner: who, in pursuance of the charm,was required to officiate " frizzled, powdered, ina gold-laced coat, pumps, and white silk stock-ings." At the gidlows and the wheel—the axewas a rarity—Monsieur Paris, as it was theepiscopal mode among his brother Professors oftflc provinces, Monsieur Orleans, and the rest, tocall mm, presided in this dainty dress. And whoamong the company at Monseigneur's receptionin that seventeen hundred and eightieth year ofour Lord, could possibly doubt, that a systemrooted in a frizzled hangman, powdered, gold-laced, pumped, and white-silk stockinged, wouldsee the very stars out 1

Monseigneur having eased his four men oftheir burdens and taken his chocolate, causedthe doors of the Holiest of Holicsts to bethrown open, and issued forth. Then, whatsubmission, what cringing and fawning, whatservility, what abject humiliation! As to cowingdown in body and spirit, nothing in that waywas left for Heaven—which may have been oneamong other reasons why the worshippers ofMonseigneur never troubled it.

Bestowing a word of promise here and a smilethere, a whisper on one happy slave and a wave

Cbarle* Dickens.] A TALE OT1 TWO CITIES. [JnneZS, 1859.] 195

of the hand on another, Monseigneur affablypassed through his rooms to the remote regionof the Circumference of Truth. There, Mon-seigneur turned, and came back again, and so indue course of time got himself shut up in hissanctuary by the chocolate sprites, and was seenno more.

The show being over, the nutter in the airbecame quite a little storm, and the preciouslittle bells went ringing down stairs. There wassoon but one person left of all the crowd, andhe, with his hat under his arm and hig snuff-boxin his hand, slowly passed among the mirrors onhis way out.

"I devote you," said this person, stop-ping at the last door on his way, and turn-ing in the direction of the sanctuary, " to theDevil!"

With that, he shook the snuff from his fingersas if he had shaken the dust from his feet, andquietly walked down stairs.

He was a man of about sixty, handsomelydressed, haughty in manner, and with a facelike a fine mask. A face of a transparent pale-ness ; every feature in it clearly defined; one setexpression on it. The nose, beautifully formedotherwise, was very slightly pinched at the topof each nostril. In those two compressions, ordints, the only little change that the faceever showed, resided. They persisted inchanging colour sometimes, and they would beoccasionally dilated and contracted by some-thing like a faint pulsation; then, they gave alook of treachery, and cruelty, to the wholecountenance. Examined with attention, itscapacity of helping such a look was to befound in the line of the mouth, and the lines ofthe orbits of the eyes, being much too hori-zontal and thin; still, in the effect the facemade, it was a handsome face, and a remarkableone.

Its owner went down stairs into the court-yard, got into bis carriage, and drove away.Not many people had talked with him at thereception; he had stood in a little space apart,and Monseigneur might have been warmer inhis manner. It appeared, under the circum-stances, rather agreeable to him to sec thecommon people dispersed before his horses, andoften barely escaping from being run down.His man drove as if he were charging anenemy, and the furious recklessness of the manbrought no check into the face, or to the lips,of the master. The complaint had sometimesmade itself audible, even in that deaf city anddumb age, that, in the narrow streets withoutfootways, the fierce patrician custom of harddriving endangered and maimed the mere vulgarin a barbarous manner. But, few cared enoughfor that to think of it a second time, and, in thismatter, as in all others, the common wretcheswere left to get out of their difficulties as theycould.

With a wild rattle and clatter, and an in-human abandonment of consideration not easyto be understood in these days, the carriagedashed through streets and swept round corners,

with women screaming before it, and men clutch-ing each other and clutching children out of itswav. At last, swooping at a street corner bya fountain, one of its wheels came to a sicken-ing little jolt, and there was a loud cry froma number of voices, and the horses reared andplunged.

But for the latter inconvenience, the carriageprobably would not have stopped; carriageswere often known to drive on, and leave theirwounded behind, and why notP But, thefrightened valet had got down in a hurry, andthere were twenty hands at the horses'bridles.

"What has gone wrong?" said Monsieur,calmly looking out.

A tall man in a nightcap had caught up abundle from among the feet of the horses, andhad laid it on the basement of the fountain, andwas down in the mud and wet, howling over itlike a wild animal.

"Pardon, Monsieur the Marquis!" said aragged and submissive man, " it is a child."

" Why does he make that abominable noise ?Is it his child ?"

" Excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis—it is apity—yes."

The fountain was a little removed; for thestreet opened, where it was, into a space someten or twelve yards square. As the tall mansuddenly got up from the ground, and camerunning at the carriage, Monsieur the Marquisclapped his hand for an instant on his sword-hilt.

" Killed!" shrieked the man, in wilddesperation, extending both arms at theirlength above his head, and staring at him."Dead!"

The people closed round, and looked at Mon-sieur the Marquis. There was nothing revealedby the many eyes that looked at him but watch-fulness and eagerness; there was no visible me-nacing or anger. Neither did the people say any-thing ; after the firbt cry, they had been silent, andthey remained so. The voice of the submissiveman who had spoken, was lint and tamo in its ex-treme submission. Monsieur the Marquis ran hiseyes over them all, as if they h;ul Ibeen mererats come out of their holes.

He took out his purse." It is extraordinary to me," said he, " that

you people cannot take care of yourselves andyour children. One or the other of you is forever in the way. How do I know what injuryyou have done my horses. See! Give Mmthat."

He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pickup, and all the heads craned forward that all theeyes might look down at it as it fell. The tafl.man called out again with a most unearthly cry,"Dead!"

He was arrested by the quick arrival ofanother man, for whom the rest made way.On seeing him, the miserable creature fell uponhis shoulder, sobbing and crying, and pointingto the fountain, where some women were stoop-ing over the motionless bundle, and moving

J96 [J.>ue 25, IMS.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

gently about it. They were as silent, however, asthe men.

" I know all, I know all," said the last comer." Be a brave man, my Gaspard! It is betterfor the poor little plaything to die so, than tolive. It has died in a moment without pain.Could it have lived an hour as happily P"

" You are a philosopher, you there," said theMarquis, smiling. " How do they call you ?"

" They call me Defarge."" Of what trade P"" Monsieur the Marquis, vendor of wine."" Pick up that, philosopher and vendor of

wine," said the Marquis, throwing him anothergold coin, "and spend it as you will. Thehorses there; are they right ?"

Without deigning to look at the assemblagea second time, Monsieur the Marquis leaned backin his seat, and was just being driven away withthe air of a gentleman who had accidentallybroken some common thing, and had paid for it,and could afford to pay i'or it; when his easewas suddenly disturbed by a coin flying intohis carriage and ringing on its floor.

" Hold !" said Monsieur the Marquis. " Holdthe horses! Who threw that P"

He looked to the spot where Defarge thevendor of wine had stood, a moment before; butthe wretched father was grovelling on his faceon the pavement in that spot, and the figure thatstood beside him was the figure of a dark stoutwoman, knitting.

" You dogs! said the Marquis, but smoothly,and with an unchanged front, except as tothe spots on his nose : " I would ride overany ot you very willingly, and exterminate youfrom the earth. If I knew which rascal threw atthe carriage, and if that brigand were suf-ciently near it, he should be crushed under thewheels "

So cowed was their condition, and so long andso hard their experience of wliat such a mancould do to them, within the law and beyond it,that not a voice, or a hand, or even an eye, wasraised. Among the men, not one. But, thewoman who stood knitting looked up steadily,and looked the Marquis in the face. It was notfor his dignity to notice it; his contemptuouseyes passed over her, and over all the otherrats; and he leaned back in his seat again, andgave the word " Go on !"

He was driven on, and other carriages camewhirling by in quick succession; the Minister, theState-Projector, the Farmer-General, the Doctor,the Lawyer, the Ecclesiastic, the Grand Opera,the Comedy, the whole Fancy Ball in a brightcontinuous flow, came whirling by. The ratshad crept out of their holes to look on, and theyremained looking on for hours; soldiers andpolice often passing between them and thespectacle, and making a barrier beliind whichthey slunk, and through which they peeped.The father had long ago taken up his bundle andbidden himself away with it, wnen the womenwho had tended the bundle while it lay on thebase of the fountain, sat there watching therunning of the water and the rolling of the Fancy

Ball—when the one woman who had stood con-spicuous, knitting, still knitted on with thesteadfastness of Fate. The water of the foun-tain ran, the swift river ran, the day ran intoevening, so much life in the city ran into deathaccording to rule, time and tide waited for noman, the rats were sleeping close together intheir dark holes again, the Fancy Ball waslighted up at supper, all things ran their

CHAPTER Till. 3IONSIEUR THE MARQUIS IN THECOUNTRY.

A BEAUTIFUL landscape, with the corn bright init but not abundant. Patches of poor rye wherecom should have been, patches of poor peas andbeans, patches of most coarse vegetable substi-tutes for wheat. On inanimate nature, as onthe men and women who cultivated it, a preva-lent tendency towards an appearance of vege-tating unwittingly—a dejected disposition togive up, and wither away.

Monsieur the Marquis in his travelling carriage(which might have been lighter), conducted Byfour post-horses and two postilions, fagged up asteep hill. A blush on the countenance of Mon-sieur the Marquis was no impeachment of hishigh breeding; it was not from within; it wasoccasioned by an external circumstance beyondhis control—the setting sun.

The sunset struck so brilliantly into the tra-velling carriage when it gained the hill-top, thatits occupant was steeped in crimson. " It willdie out," said Monsieur the Marquis, glancing athis hands, "directly."

la effect, the sun was so low that it dipped atthe moment. When the heavy drag had beenadjusted to the wheel, and the carriage slid downhill, with a cinderous smell, in a cloud of dust, thered glow departed quickly; the sun and theMarquis going down together, there was no glowleft when the drag was taken off.

But, there remained a broken country, bold andopen, a little village at the bottom of the hill, abroad sweep and rise beyond it, a church-tower,a windmill, a forest for the chase, and a cragwith a fortress on it used as a prison. Roundupon all these darkening objects as the nightdrew on, the Marquis looked, with the air of onewho was coming near home.

The village had its one poor street, with itspoor brewery, poor tannery, poor tavern, poorstable-yard for relays of post-horses, poor foun-tain, all usual poor appointments. It had itspoor people too. All its people were poor, andmany of them were sitting at their doors,shredding spare onions and the like for supper,while many were at the fountain, washing leaves,and grasses, and any such small yieldings of theearth that could be eaten. Expressive signs ofwhat made them poor, were not wanting; thetax for the state, the tax for the churchTthe taxfor the lord, tax local and tax general, were tobe paid here and to be paid there, according tosolemn inscription in the little village, until thewonder was, that there was any village left un-swallowed.

Charles Dickens.] A TALE OF TWO CITIES. [June 25,1859.] 197

Few children were to be seen, and no dogs.As to the men and women, their choice on earthwas stated in the prospect—Life on the lowestterms that could sustain it, down in the littlevillage under the mill; or captivity and Deathin the dominant prison on the crag.

Heralded by a courier in advance, and by the.cracking of his postilions' whips, which twinedsnake-like about their heads in the evening air,as if he came attended by the Furies, Monsieurthe Marquis drew up m his travelling car-riage at the posting-house gate. It was hardby the fountain, and the peasants suspendedtheir operations to look at him. He looked atthem, and saw in them, without knowing it, theslow sure filing down of misery-worn face andfigure, that was to make the meagreness ofFrenchmen an English superstition which shouldsurvive the truth through the best part of ahundred years.

Monsieur the Marquis cast his eyes over thesubmissive faces that drooped before him, as thelike of himself had drooped before Monseigneurof the Court—only the difference was, that thesefaces drooped merely to suffer and not to pro-pitiate—when a grizzled mender of the roadsjoined the group.

" Bring me hither that fellow!" said the Mar-quis to the courier.

The fellow was brought, cap in hand, and theother fellows closed round to look and listen,in the manner of the people at the Paris foun-tain.

" I passed you on the road ?"" Monseigneur, it is true. I had the honour

of being passed on the road."" Coming up the hill, and at the top of the

hill, both?';" Monseigneur, it is true."" What did you look at, so fixedly ?"" Monseigneur, I looked at the man."He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue

cap pointed under the carriage. All his fellowsstooped to look under the carriage.

"What man, pig P And why look there ?"" Pardon, Monseigneur; he swung by the

chain of the shoe—the drag."" Who ?" demanded the traveller." Monseigneur, the man."" May the Devil carry away these idiots!

How do you call the man ? You know all themen of this part of the country. Who was he P"

" Your clemencyj Monseigneur! He was notof this part of the country. Of all the days ofmy life, I never saw him."

" Swinging by the chain? To be suffocated P"" With your gracious permission, that was

the wonder of it, Monseigneur. His head hang-ing over—like this!"

He turned himself sideways to the carriage,and leaned back, with his face thrown up to thesky, and his head hanging down; then recoveredhimself, fumbled with his cap, and made a bow.

" What was he like ?"" Monseigneur, he was whiter than the miller.

All covered with dust, white as a spectre, talias a spectre!"

The picture produced an immense sensationin the little crowd; but all eyes, without com-paring notes with other eyes, looked at Mon-sieur the Marquis. Perhaps, to observe whetherhe had any spectre on his conscience.

"Truly, you did well," said the Marquis,felicitously sensible that such vermin were not toruffle him, " to see a thief accompanying mycarriage, and not open that great mouth ofyours. Bah! Put him aside, Monsieur Gabelle!"

Monsieur Gabelle was the Postmaster, andsome other taxing functionary, united; he hadcome out with great obsequiousness to assistat this examination, and had held the examinedby the drapery of his arm in an official manner.

" Bah! Go aside!" said Monsieur Gabelle." Lay hands on this stranger if he seeks to

lodge in your village to-night, and be sure thathis business is honest, Gabelle."

" Monseigneur, I am flattered to devote my-self to your orders."

" Did he run away, fellow ?—where is thatAccursed ?"

The accursed was already under the carriagewith some half-dozen particular friends, pointingout the chain with his blue cap. Some half-dozenother particular friends promptly haled him out,and presented him breathless to Monsieur theMarquis.

" Did the man run away, Dolt, when westopped for the drag?"

" Mouseigneur, he precipitated himself overthe hill-side, head first, as a person plunges intothe river."

" See to it, Gabelle. Go on!"The half-dozen who were peering at the chain

were still among the wheels, like sheep; thewheels turned so suddenly that they were luckyto save their skins and bones; they had verylittle else to save, or they might not have been,so fortunate.

The burst with which the carriage started outof the village and up the rise beyond, was soonchecked by the steepness of the hiu. Gradually, itsubsided to a foot pace, swinging and lumberingupward among the many sweet scents of asummer night. The postilions, with a thousandgossamer gnats circling about them in lieu of theFuries, quietly mended the points to the lachesof their whips; the valet walked by the horses ;the courier was audible, trotting on ahead intothe dim distance.

At the steepest point of the hill there was alittle burial-ground, with a Cross and a new largefigure of Our Saviour on it; it was a poor figurein wood, done by some inexperienced rusticcarver, but he had studied the figure from thelife—his own life, maybe—for it M-as dreadfullyspare and thin.

To this distressful emblem of a great distressthat had long been growing worse, and was notat its worst, a woman was kneeling. Sheturned her head as the carriage came up to her,rose quickly, and presented herself at the carriage-door.

"It is you, Monseigneur! Monseipneur, apetition!"

198 ALL THE YEAK ROUND. [Conducted by

With an exclamation of impatience, but withhis unchangeable face, the Marquis lookedout.

"How, then! What is it? Always peti-tions !"

"Monseigneur. For the love of the greatGod! My nusband, the forester."

" What of your husband, the forester ?Always the same with you people. He cannotpay something P"

"He has paid all, Monseigneur. He is dead."" Well! He is quiet. Can I restore him to

your" Alas no, Monseigneur! But he lies yonder,

under a little heap of poor grass.""Well?"" Monseigneur, there are so many little heaps

of poor grass.""Again, well?"She looked an old woman, but was young. Her

manner was one of passionate grief; by turnsshe clasped her veinous and knotted hands to-gether with wild energy, and laid one of themon the carriage-door—tenderly, caressingly, as ifit had been a human breast, and could be ex-pected to feel the appealing touch.

" Monseigneur, hear me! Monseigneur, hearmy petition! My husband died of want; somany die of want; so many more will die ofwant."

" Again, well ? Can I feed them ?"" Monseigneur, the good God knows; but I

don't ask it. My petition is, that a morsel ofstone or wood, with my husband's name, may beplacedover him to show where he lies. Otherwise,the place will be quickly forgotten, it will neverbe found when I am dead of the same malady,I shall be laid under some other heap of poorgrass. Monseigneur, they are so many, theyincrease so fast, there is so much want. Mon-seigneur ! Monseigneur!"

The valet had put her away from the door,the carriage had woken into a brisk trot, thepostilions had quickened the pace, she was leftfar behind, and the Marqnis, again escorted bythe Furies, was rapidly diminishing the leagueor two of distance that remained oetween himand his chateau.

The sweet scents of the summer night roseall around him, and rose, as the rain falls, im-partially, on the dusty, ragged, and toil-worngroup at the fountain not far away; to whomthe mender of roads, with the aid of theblue cap without which he was nothing, stillenlarged upon his man like a spectre, as longas they could bear it. By degrees, as they couldbear no more, they dropped off one by one, andlights twinkled in little casements; which lights,as the casements darkened, and more stars cameput, seemed to have shot up into the skyinstead of having been extinguished.

The shadow of a large high-roofed house, andof many overhanging trees, was upon Monsieurthe Marquis by that time; and the shadow wasexchanged for the light of a flambeau, as hiscarriage stopped, and the great door of hischateau was opened to him.

"Monsieur Charles, whom I expect; is hearrived from England ?"

" Monseigneur, not yet."

TOO MUCH FREEDOM ON THE SEAS.

• THE time should be gone by when we lookfor an outlaw in the bold sea captain; but thereis still a restricted sense, and that a very painfulone, in which the master of a trading vessel on thehigh seas is an outlaw. He may be an outlaw,just, honest, and merciful, whose right mind is hissufficient lawgiver and judge. Happy are theywho row in the same boat with him! He maybe unjust, dishonest, and merciless: one whocan be terrified only by the horsehair of the law,and punished only'by suffering and loss. Whensuch a man has others beneath his control, andis himself subject to no control, woe to hisvictims! Men rougher than the seas theytraverse, and more pitiless, are among thosewho command, in merchant vessels tradingbetween England and America, as masters ; or,more commonly have power as mates. Thesemen are not types of the true Americanor English sailor. Honest Saxon seafarersbora on either side of the Atlantic mustand do contemn them; must desire that theyshall not disgrace by their atrocities a greatnational calling, and escape swift retribution.There is no difficult and narrow question be-tween English and American of mutual rights inthis matter. What question there is, can readilybe settled to the full content of all people whospeak the English language.

A Liverpool Merchant, in a published letter,calls attention to " Unpunished Cruelties on theHigh Seas." At Liverpool they excite par-ticular attention, because there is visible andconstant evidence of their result. One or twohundred hospital patients who have been struckdown by cruelties endured on board Americanships, are every year under medical or surgicalcare, as " consul's cases." Into the den ofLondon there comes much of the same kind ofsuffering; but its cry cannot so well be heard.It does, we believe, happen that cruelty ismore common in the mercantile marine of theUnited States than in that of England. But, onboard the merchant ships of the United States,hardly one man in five is a native American. Ofthe last ten cases of cruelty sent back to theUnited States for trial, not one had anAmericanfor defendant, and, in five of them, the criminalswere natives of Great Britain. This is no dis-cussion, therefore, about purging others ofoffence. The Bogota, in which a demoniacalcruelty was inflicted, was an English vessel.But it happens that the part of the case whichpresents itself in the form most available forpurposes of explanation concerns merchant shipsof the United States trading with Liverpool.

If an offence be committed in a foreign shipwhile actually lying in an English river, it ispunishable by the English law; but, if it be com-mitted in an American ship some four miles fromtie shore, all that can be done is this: the

'THE STORY OF OUR LIVES FROM YEAR TO YEAR,"—SHAKESPEARE.

ALL THE YEAR KOUND.A WEEKLY JOURNAL.

CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.WITH W H I C H IS I N C O R P O R A T E D H O U S E H O L D WORDS.

-10.] SATURDAY, JULY 2, 1859.

A TALE OF TWO CITIES.3En ?P)t« Doofcs.

BY CHAIILES DICKENS.

BOOK. THE SECOND. THE GOLDEN THREAD.CHAPTER IX. THE GOBGON's HEAD.

IT was a heavy mass of building, that chateauof Monsieur the Marquis, with a large stonecourt-yard before it, and two stone sweeps ofstaircase meeting in a stone terrace before theprincipal door. A stony business altogether,with heavy stone balustrades, and stone urns,and stone flowers, and stone faces of men, andstone heads of lions, in all directions. As if theGorgon's head had surveyed it, when it wasfinished, t\vo centuries ago.

Up the broad flight of shallow steps, Monsieurthe Marquis, flambeau preceded, went from hiscarriage, sufficiently disturbing the darkness toelicit loud remonstrance from an owl in theroof of the great pile of stable-building awayamong the trees. All else was so quiet, that theflambeau carried up the steps, and the etherflambeau held at the great door, burnt as if theywere in a close room of state, instead of beingin the open night-air. Other sound than theowl's voice there AV as none, save the falling of afountain into its stone basin; for, it was one ofthose dark nights th.it hold their breath by thehour together, and then heave a long low sigh,and hold their breath again.

The great door clanged behind him, and Mon-sieur the Marquis crossed a hall, grim with cer-tain old boar spears, swords, and knives of thechase; grimmer with certain heavy riding-rodsand riding-whips, of which many a peasant, goneto his benefactor Death, had felt the weight•when his lord was angry.

Avoiding the larger rooms, \\liich were darkand made fast for the night, Monsieur the Mar-quis, with his flambeau-bearer going on before,went up the staircase to a door iu a corridor.This thrown open, admitted him to his own pri-vate apartment of three rooms : his bedchamberand two others. High vaulted rooms with cooluncarpeted floors, great dogs upon the hearthsfor the burning of wood in winter time, and allluxuries befitting the state of a marquis in aluxurious age and country. The fashion of thelast Louis but one, of the line that was neverto break—the fourteenth Louis—was con-

spicuous in their rich furniture; but, it was diver-sified by many objects that were illustrations ofold pages in the history of France.

A supper-table was laid for two, in the thirdof the rooms; a round room, in one of thechateau's four extinguisher - topped towers;a small lofty room, with its window wide open,and the wooden jalousie-blinds closed, so thatthe dark night only showed in slight horizontallines of black, alternating with their broad linesof stone colour.

" My nephew," said the Marquis, glancing atthe supper preparation; " they said he was notarrived/'

Nor was he; but, he had been expected withMonseigneur.

" Ah! It is not probable he will arrive to-night ; nevertheless, leave the table as it is. Ishall be ready in a quarter of an hour."

In a quarter of an hour, Monseigneur wasready, and sat down alone to his sumptuous andchoice supper. His chair was opposite to thewindow, and he had taken his soup, and wasraising his glass of Bordeaux to his lips, whenhe put it down.

"What is that?" he calmly asked, lookingwith attention at the horizontal lines of blackand stone colour.

" Monseigneur P That P"" Outside the blinds. Open the blinds."It was done."WellP"" Monseigncur, it is nothing. The f reehand

the night arc all that arc here."The servant w ho spoke, had thrown the blinds

wide, had looked out into the vacant darkness,and stood, with that blank behind him, lookinground for instructions.

" Good," said the imperturbable master." Close them again."

That was done too, and the Marquis went onwith his supper. He was half way through it,when he again stopped with, his glass in hishand, hearing the sound of wheels. It came onbriskly, and came up to the front of the chateau.

" Ask who is arrived."It was the nephew of Monseigneur. He had

been some few leagues behind Monseigneur,early in the afternoon. He had diminished thedistance rapidly, but not so rapidly as to comeup with Monseigneur on the road. He hadheard of Monseigneur, at the posting-houses, asbeing before him.

VOL. I.

2J8 [JulyS, I ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Ccndnoteaby

He was to be told (said Monseigneur) thatsupper awaited him then and there, and that hewas prayed to come to it. In a little while, hecame. He had been known in England as Charles

iDamay.Monseigneur received him in a courtly manner,

but they did not shake hands." You left Paris yesterday, sir P" he said to

Monseigneur, as he took his seat at table." Yesterday. And you P"" I come direct.""From London?""Yes.""You have been, a long time coming," said

the Marquis, with a smile."On the contrary; I come direct."" Pardon me! I mean, not a long time on the

journey; a long time intending the journey.""I have been detained by"—the nephew

stopped a moment in his answer—"variousbusiness."

" Without doubt," said the polished uncle.So long as a servant was present, no other

word passed between them. When coffee hadbeen served and they were alone together, thenephew, looking at the uncle and meeting theeyes of the face that was like a fine mask, openeda conversation.

"I have come back, sir, as you anticipate,pursuing the object that took me away. Itcarried me into great and unexpected peril; butit is a sacred object, and if it had carried me todeath I hope it would have sustained me."

"Not to death," said the uncle; "it is notnecessary to say, to death."

" I doubt, sir," returned the nephew, "whether,if it had carried me to the utmost brink of death,you would have cared to stop me there."

The deepened marks in the nose, and the length-ening of the fine straight lines in the oruol lace,looked ominous as to that; the uncle made agraceful gesture of protest, which was so clearlyft slight form of good brooding that it was not re-assuring.

" Indeed, sir," pursued the nephew, " for any-thing I know, you may have expressly workedto give a more suspicious appearance to thosuspicious circumstances that surrounded me."

" No, no, no," said the uncle, pleasantly." But, however that may be,' resumed the

nephew, glancing at him with deep distrust, " Tknow that your diplomacy would stop me by anymeans, and would know no scruple as to means.

" My friend, I told you so," said the uncle,with a fine pulsation in the two marks. " Dome the favour to recal that I told you so, longago."

" I recal it."" Thank you," said the Marquis—very sweetly

indeed.His tone lingered in the air, almost like the

tone of a musical instrument."In effect, sir," pursued the nephew, "I be-

lieve it to be at once your bad fortune, and mygood fortune, that has kept me out of a prisonin France here."

"I do not quite understand," returned the

uncle, sipping his coffee. " Dare I ask you toexplain P"

" I believe that if you were not in disgracewith the court, and had not been overshadowedby that cloud for years past, a letter de -cachetwould have sent me to some fortress indefinitely."

"It is possible," said the uncle, with greatcalmness. "For the honour of the family, Icould even resolve to incommode you to that ex-tent. Pray excuse me!"

"I perceive that, happily for me, the Re-ception of the day before yesterday was, asusual, a cold one," observed the nephew.

"I would not say happily, my friend," re-turned the uncle, with refined politeness; " Iwould not be sure of that. A good opportunityfor consideration, surrounded by the advantagesof solitude, might influence your destiny to fargreater advantage than you influence it for your-self. But it is useless to discuss the question.I am, as you say, at a disadvantage. These littleinstruments of correction, these gentle aids tothe power and honour of families, these slightfavours that might so incommode you, are onlyto be obtained now by interest and importunity.They are sought by so many, and they are granted(comparatively) to so few! It used not to beso, but France in all such things is changed forthe worse. Our not remote ancestors held theright of life and death over the surroundingvulgar. From this room, many such dogs havebeen taken out to be hanged; in the next room(my bedroom), one fellow, to our knowledge, wasponiarded on the spot for professing some in-solent delicacy respecting his daughter—AMdaughter! We have lost many privileges; anew philosophy has become the mode; and theassertion 01 our station, in these days, might(I do not go so far as to say would, but might)cause us real inconvenience. All very bad, verybad!"

The Marquis took a gentle little pinch ofsnuff, and shook his head; as elegantly de-spondent ns he couM becomingly be, of a countrystill containing himself, that great means of re-generation.

" We have so assert ed our station, both in theold time and in the modem time also," said thenephew, gloomilj, " that I believe our name tobe more detcstea than any name in France."

"Let us hope so," said the uncle. "Detesta-tion of the high, is the involuntary homage ofthe low."

"There is not," pursued the nephew in hisformer tone, "a face I can look at, in all thiscountry round about us, which looks at me withany deference on it but the dark deference offear and slavery."

"A compliment," said the Marquis, "to thegrandeur of the family, merited by the mannerin which the family has sustained its grandeur.Hah!" And he took another gentle little pinchof snuff, and lightly crossed his legs.

But, when his nephew, leaning an elbow onthe table, covered his eyes thoughtfully anddejectedly with his hand, the fine mask lookedat him sideways, with a stronger concentration

A TALE OF TWO CITIES. [July 2, ia5!).] 219

of keenness, closeness, and dislike, than wascomportable with its wearer's assumption of in-difference.

" Repression is the only lasting philosophy.The dark deference of fear and slavery, myfriend," observed the Marquis, " will keep thedogs obedient to the whip, as long as this rbof,"looking up to it, " shuts out the sky."

That might not be so long as the Marquissupposed. If a picture of the chateau as it wasto be a very few years hence, and of fifty like it asthey too were to be a very few years hence, couldhave been shown to him that night, he mighthave been at a loss to claim his own from theghastly, fire-charred, plunder-wrecked ruins. Asfor the roof he vaunted, he might have foundthat shutting out the sky in a new way—to wit,for ever, from the eyes of the bodies into whichits lead was fired, out of the barrels of a hundredthousand muskets.

" Meanwhile," said the Marquis, " I will pre-serve the honour and repose of the family, ifyou will not. But you must be fatigued. Shall•we terminate our conference for the night P"

" A moment more."" An hour, if you please."" Sir," said the nephew, " we have done wrong,

and are reaping the fruits of wroHg."" ire have done wrong ?" repeated the Mar-

quis, with an inquiring smile, and delicatelypointing, first to his nephew, then to himself.

" Our family; our honourable family, whosehonour is of so much account to both of us, insuch different ways. Even in my father's time,we did a world of wrong, injuring every humancreature who came between us and our pleasure,whatever it was. Why need I speak of myfather's time, when it is equally yours ? Can Iseparate my father's twin-brother, joint inheritor,and next successor, from himself ?"

" Death has done that," said the Marquis."And has left me," answered the.ucphew,

*' bound to a system that is frightful to me, re-sponsible for it, but powerless in it; seeking toexecute the last request of my dear mother'slips, and obey thd last look of my dear mother'seyes, which implored mo to have mercy aud toredress; and tortured by seeking assistance audpower in vain."

" Seeking them from me, my nephew," saidthe Marquis, touching him on the breast withhis forefinger—they were now standing by thehearth—"you will'for ever seek them in vain,be assured."

Every fine straight line in the clear white-ness of his face, was cruelly, craftily, and closelycompressed, while he stood looking quietly at hisnephew, with, his snuff-box in his hand. Onceagain he touched him on the breast, as thoughhis finger were the fine point of a small sword,with which, in delicate finesse, he ran him throughthe body, and said,

" My friend, I will die, perpetuating the systemunder which I have lived."

When he had said it, he took a culminatingpinch of snuff, aud put his box in his pocket.

"Better to be a rational creature," ne added

then, after ringing a small bell on the .table," and accept your natural destiny. But you arelost, Monsieur Charles, I see."

" This property and Prance are lost to me,"said the nephew, sadly; " I renounce them."

"Are they both yours to renounce ? Francemay be, but is the property P It is scarcelyworth mentioning ; but, is it yet P"

" I had no intention, in the words I used, toclaim it yet. If it passed to me from you, to-morrow "

"Which I have the vanity to hope is notprobable."

" —or twenty years hence ""You do me too much honour," said the

Marquis; " still, I prefer that supposition."" —I would abandon it, and live otherwise and

elsewhere. It is little to relinquish. What isit but a wilderness of misery and ruin!"

" Hah!" said the Marquis, glancing round theluxurious room.

" To the eye it is fair enough, here ; but seenin its integrity, under the sky and by the day-light, it is a crumbling tower of waste, mis-management, extortion, debt, mortgage, oppres-sion, hunger, nakedness, and suffering."

"Hah !" said the Marquis again, in. a well-satisfied manner.

" If it ever becomes mine, it shall be put intosome hands better qualified to free it slowly (ifsuch a thing is possible) from the weight thatdrags it down, so that the miserable people whocannot leave it and who have been long wrungto the last point of endurance, may, in anothergeneration, suffer less; but it is not for me.There is a curse on it, aud on all this laud."

" And you ?" said the uncle. " Forgive mycuriosity; do you, under your new philosophy,graciously intend to live ?"

" I must do, to live, what others of my coun-trymen, even, with nobility at their backs, mayhave to do some day—work."

" In England, for example ?"" Yes. The family honour, sir, is safe from

me in this country. The family name can sufferfrom me in no other, for I boar it in no other."

The ringing of the bell had caused the ad-joining bedchamber to bo lighted. It nowshone orightly, through the door of communica-tion. The Marquis looked that way, and listenedfor the retreating step of his valet.

" England is very attractive to you, seeinghow indifferently you have prospered there," heobserved then, turning his calm face to his nephewwith a smile.

" I have already said, that for my prosperingthere, I am sensible I may be indebted to you,sir. For the rest, it is my Refuge."

" They say, those boastful English, that it isthe Refuge "of many. You know a compatriotwho has found a Refuge there ? A Doctor ?"

" Yes.""With a daughter?""Yes.""Yes," said the Marquis. "You are fatigued.

Good night!"As he bent liis head in bis most courtly

220 ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Condjclcd by

manner, there was a secrecy in his smiling face,and he conveyed an air of mystery to thosewords, which struck the eyes and ears of hisnephew forcibly. At the same time, the thinstraight lines or the setting of the eyes, and thethin straight lips, and the markings in thenose, curved with a sarcasm that looked hand-somely diabolic.

"Yes," repeated the Marquis. "A Doctorwith a daughter. Yes. So commences the newphilosophy ! You are fatigued. Good night!"

It would have been of as much avail to in-terrogate any stone face outside the chateau, asto interrogate that face of his. The nephewlooked at him, in vain, in passing on to the door.

" Good night!" said the uncle. " I look tothe pleasure of seeing you again in the morning.Good repose! Light Monsieur my nephew tohis chamber there!—And burn Monsieur mynephew in his bed, if you will," he added tohimself, before he rang his little bell again, andsummoned his valet to his own bedroom.

The valet come and gone, Monsieur the Mar-quis walked to and fro in his loose chamber-robe, to prepare himself gently for sleep, that hotstill night. Rustling about me room, his softly-slippered feet making no noise on the floor, hemoved like a refined tiger:—looked like someenchanted marquis of the impenitently wickedsort, in story, whose periodical change into tigerform was either just going off, or just comingon.

He moved from end to end of his voluptuousbedroom, looking again at the scraps of theday's journey that came unbidden into his mind;the slow toil up the hill at sunset, the settingsim, the descent, the mill, the prison on the crag,the little village in the hollow, the peasants atthe fountain, and the mender of roads with hisblue cap pointing out the chain under the car-

.riage. That fountain suggested the Paris foun-tain, the little bundle lying on the step, thewomen bending over it, uno the tall man withhis nrms up, crying, " Dead !"

" I am cool now," s:iid Monsieur the Mar-quis, " and may go to bed."

So, leaving only one light burning on thelarge hearth, he let his thin gauze curtains fallaround him, and heard the night break its silencewitli a long sigh as he composed himself tosleep.

The stone faces on the outer walls staredblindly at the black night for three heavy hours;for three heavy hours, the horses in the stablesrattled at their racks, the dogs barked, and theowl made a noise with very little resemblancein it to the noise conventionally assigned to theowl by men-poets. But, it is the obstinatecustom of such creatures hardly ever to saywhat is set down for them.

For three heavy hours, the stone faces of thechateau, lion and human, stared blindly at thenight. Dead darkness lay on all the landscape,dead darkness added its own hush to the hushingdust on all the roads. The burial-place had gotto the pass that its little heaps of poor grasswere undistinguishable from one another; the

figure on the Cross might have come down, foranything that could be seen of it. In the village,taxers and taxed were fast asleep. Dreaming,perhaps, of banquets, as the starved usually do,and of ease and rest, as the driven slave and theyoked ox may, its lean inhabitants slept soundly,and were fed and freed.

The fountain in the village flowed unseen andunheard, and the fountain at the chateau droppedunseen and unheard—both melting away, likethe minutes that were falling from the spring ofTime—through three dark hours. Then, the greywater of both began to be ghostly in the light,and the eyes of the stone faces of the chateauwere opened.

It grew lighter and lighter, until at last the suntouched the tops of the still trees, and pouredits radiance over the hill. In the glow, the waterof the chateau fountain seemed to turn to blood,and the stone faces crimsoned. The carol of thebirds was loud and high, and, on the weather-beaten sill of the great window of the bed-chamber of Monsieur the Marquis, one littlebird sang its sweetest song with all its might.At this, the nearest stone face seemed to stareamazed, and, with open mouth and droppedunder-jaw, looked awe-stricken.

Now, the sun was full up, and movementbegan in the village. Casement windows opened,crazy doors were unbarred, and people cameforth shivering—chilled, as yet, by the newsweet air. Then began the rarely lightened toilof the day among the village population. Some,to the fountain; some, to the fields; men andwomen here, to dig and delve; men and womenthere, to see to the poor live stock, and lead thebony cows out, to such pasture as could be foundby the roadside. In the church and at theCross, a kneeling figure or two; attendant outhe latter prayers, the led cow, trying for abreakfast among the weeds at the Cross-loot.

The chateau awoke later, as became its qua-lity, but awoke gradually and surely. First, thelonely boar-spears and "knives of the chase hadbeen reddened as of old; then, had gleamedtrenchant in the morning sunshine; now, doorsand windows were thrown open, horses in thestables looked round over their shoulders at thelight and freshness pouring in at doorways,leaves sparkled and rustled at iron-gralcd win-dows, dogs pulled hard at their chains, andreared impatient to be loosed.

All these trivial incidents belonged to thetoutine of life, and the return ot morning.Surely, not so the ringing of the great bell ofthe chateau, nor the running up and down thestairs, nor the hurried figures on the terrace, northe booting and tramping here and there andeverywhere, nor the quick saddling of horses andriding away ? 4

What winds conveyed this hurry to thegrizzled mender of roads, already at work onthe hill-top beyond the village, with his day'sdinner (not much to carry) lying in a bundlethat it was worth no crow's while to peck at, ona heap of stones ? Had the birds, carrying somegrains of it to a distance, dropped one over him

* Dicken.0 REVOLUTION AT FLORENCE, EXACTLY DESCRIBED. (?»*«.»» 3 221

as they sow chance seeds ? Whether or no, themender of roads ran, on the sultry morning, asif for his life, down the hill, knee-high in dust,and never stopped till he got to the fountain.

All the people of the village were at the foun-tain, standing aboutintheirdepressedmanner,andwhispering softly, but showing no other emotionsthan grim curiosity and surpnse. The led cows,hastily brought in and tethered to anything thatwould hold them, were looking stupidly on, or werelyingdown chewingthe cud of nothingparticularlyrepaying their trouble, which they had picked upin their interrupted saunter. Some of thepeople of the chateau, and some of those ofthe posting-house, and all the taxing authorities,were armed more or less, and were crowded onthe other side of the little street in a purposelessway, that was highly fraught with nothing.Already, the mender ot roads had penetrated intothe midst of a group of fifty particular friends,and was smiting himself in the breast with hisblue cap. What did all this portend, and whatportended the swift hoisting-up of MonsieurGabelle behind a servant on horseback, and theconveying away of the said Gabelle (double-ladenthough, the horse was), at a gallop, like a newTorsion of the German ballad of Leonora ?

It portended that there was one stone face toomany, up at the chateau.

The Gorgon had surveyed the building againin the night, and had added the one stone facewanting; the stone face for which it had waitedthrough about two hundred years.

It lay back on the pillow of Monsieur theMarquis. It was like a fine mask, suddenlystartled, made angry, and petrified. Drivenhome into the heart of the stone figure attachedto it, was a knife. Round its hilt was a frill ofpaper, on which was scrawled :

"Drive him fast to Ms tomb. This, fromJACQUES."

REVOLUTION AT FLORENCE, EXACTLYDESCRIBED.

I. THE PREPARATION.

_ I N Italy, war means hope; and, at the be-ginning oi the present year the celebrated wordsof the French Emperor to the Austrian Ambas-sador raised Italian hopes to seething point.Young men of all classes began to flock towardsPiedmont in the hope of taking part in the con-test, which was now considered certain, andwhich, it was hoped, would be a war of Italianindependence. Many of these young men be-longed to the upper and middle classes; but themajority were, of course, from the largest class;that which has no possessions but its labour.And, for the purpose of assisting them to per-form the journey, a committee of Tuscan gen-tlemen Avas formed. No volunteers wereaccepted by this committee who did notpresent certificates, showing that the bearerhad never offended against the law. Suchcertificates are ordinarily granted by the properauthorities in Tuscany to any asking for them.But they cost five Pauls—rather more than two

shillings—and these five Pauls the volunteer,applying for aid, was expected to have paid forhimself, as an earnest of the bonft fide serious-ness of his intention. Then the necessary meansof reaching Genoa were supplied.

The Grand-Ducal Government also grantedpassports for Piedmont to all who asked them,without any difficulty. Moreover, papers whichhave been found in the office of the lateMinister of the Interior show, that the Grand-Duke had been for some time past accurately in-formed of the state of the country by the variousprovincial governors. It was in no wise dis-sembled that the entire country was ripe for re-volution if alliance with Piedmont, in the comingwar, could be no other wise attained.

This exodus of volunteers continued oa anever-increasing scale; and one or two incidentsoccurred which show clearly enough the leaningof the military, as well as of the popular mind.A number of friends had accompanied one ofthe volunteers of good social standing to therailway station, and bade him adieu withshouting and other hearty and noisy demon-strations of feeling. Among these was alieutenant in the service of the Grand-DukeLeopold. He was brought to court-martial forthis manifestation of his sentiments, and ac-quitted. Again, a few days before the actualbreaking out of the war, a body, some twentysoldiers, deserted, and got away with all theirarms and accoutrements to Piedmont.

From the beginning of the year a greaterdegree of intimacy between the citizens and thesoldiers might have been observed than usual,both in the rank of officers and of privates.Those who are acquainted with the habits oflife in the cities of Italy, will understand howspontaneously and easily this would be broughtabout. No special appointments, no invitationsto this or the other house, would be necessary.The universally frequented cafe" would furnishan ever-ready place of meeting. A cup ofcoffee, an ice, or a "ponche," taken together,would be sufficient to perfect n mutual under-standing ; and—in a small city where everybodyknows everybody, and everybody sees everybodyat this or the other cafe* every day—a very shortduration of this sort of companionship sufficed tomake the military and civil body perfectlywell understand and reciprocate their politicalopinions and aspirations.

The same thing was going^ on in precisely thesame manner among the privates. The habitsof life differ much less in the different classes ofsociety in Italy than with our more formal,stiffer, and richer selves. The artisans andjourneymen of the city were taking their coffee,and their ices, and then: " ponches," with theprivates; and, in answer to my searching in-quiries on this point, it \vas confessed (readilyenough) that, after such feasts of reason andflows of soul, it did, often occur that a partyof private soldiers were told by the waiter thattheir reckoning had been mysteriously paid.Those who know Italy and its native habitswell, will be aware how common this little