regarded; but the astonishment of the baroness almost approached stupefaction when, upon turning up the path, she came upon what remained of her warren and castle, while Raoul, observing her sad and silent gaze, asked her what old house that was she was looking at. At first she could hardly believe her own eyes, and, as the sun was just setting, was half persuaded that it was the effect of the twilight, and that she was the sport of some new mirage. Nevertheless, she continued to advance; but with a step less firm, and a heart less joyous. Alas! it was too true; the warren was gone, and only a cluster of oaks remained. The castle was only a mangled corpse, with its wounds concealed beneath a shroud of ivy. The fosses were transformed into a cabbage garden; the chapel was torn down, the turrets had disappeared; the façade was in ruins. Not a servant awaited them at the door; not a gun-shot awakened the echoes of the old domain; not a bouquet, nor a shout of gratulation, welcomed them back. Not a sound was heard, save the twitterings of the swallows as they circled about in the evening twilight; in all else there was the solitude and silence of the tomb. But still the baroness advanced, and still Raoul questioned

"Where are we going? Where are you leading me, mother?"

His mother proceeded without making any reply, and soon found herself within the walls of the castle; but here her strength and her courage failed. The interior was even more gloomy and dilapidated than the exterior had promised. The floors were decayed; the panelling was torn off; the rich Holland and damask hangings were torn down; the paintings were gone. There was no trace of the old Gothic furniture, nor of that of the Renaissance. Empty halls, deserted apartments and denuded walls, with here and there on the ceiling some vestiges of half obliterated gilding, or in the windows some neglected curtains, discolored by the moisture and gnawed by the rats, were all that met the eye.

"Where are we, mother?" again asked Raoul, with a look of surprise.

Madame de Vaubert went on from chamber to chamber, but made no reply. Finally, after having vainly sought for a

living soul in the midst of this solitude, she found an old servant in the kitchen sound asleep, under the mantle-piece. She seized him by the arm, roused him by a somewhat violent shake, and sharply and imperatively demanded several times in quick succession

"Where is M. de Vaubert ?"

"M. de Vaubert, madam ?" rejoined the old man, rubbing his eyes;" he is in the grave-yard."

"No jesting, sir," quickly returned the baroness, who was almost beside herself. "What has he gone there after?"

"Madam," replied the old servant, "he is doing there what I was just doing here; he is sound asleep."

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Dead!" cried the baroness. "And buried a month ago," tranquilly added the old man.

The cry of Madame de Vaubert started the servant, and he soon recognized his former mistress, for he had a long while been in the service of of the family, and was the only servant who survived. Age and infirmity had rendered him almost helpless. He informed the baroness how her husband, just after he had purchased the castle and the two small enclosures immediately attached, the whole of his new barony, had sickened and died without having had time to make such repairs and improvements as would place the manor in a fit condition to receive her and her son. Madame de Vaubert was overwhelmed, while Raoul paid no attention to what was passing. Worn out with the fatigue of the journey and the excitement of the return, the young baron had fallen asleep in a chair which served as his couch till morning, and his mother retired to the only bed-a very humble one, which the mansion could boast.

The next morning, as she came from her chamber, Madame de Vaubert encountered Raoul walking with a thoughtful and somewhat dejected air, to and fro through the empty hall. They exchanged recognitions, but not a word was said. Meanwhile the baroness was reluctant to undeceive herself; she still hoped that her prospects were brighter than the surrounding ruins and the old man's story seemed to forebode. But when the will was opened and its contents were known,

whether M. de Vaubert had, during his life squandered with one hand what he had earned with the other, or whether he had himself been deceived as to the extent of his acquisitions, it was but too apparent to both the mother and the son, that their only inheritance was this dilapidated manor, and the two small adjoining enclosures, as they have been described, with about fifty thousand francs which the baron had deposited with his notary a few days before his death. This was the extent of their property. They made their domestic arrangements accordingly, and lived in the castle in a style but little differing from that of their exile.

But still more grievous disappointments were in reserve for Madame de Vaubert. The longer she lived upon the soil which the revoluntary shock had moved from its foundations, and divided almost without limit; the more she observed what now was passing in France, great, prosperous, and covered with glory; the more she investigated the territorial laws of the new government, and saw that the rights of the new proprietors were already consecrated by years of quiet, undisturbed possession, and guarantied by the common law, the more keenly did she feel the utter nothingness and folly of the illusions of the emigrants. She now saw that, at best, the return of the Bourbons to the throne would not necessarily restore the Marquis de La Seigliére to his property; that Napoleon was much less firmly seated upon the throne than John Stamply upon the brow of the opposite hill; and that however much the former might be in danger from cannon, the latter had no reasonable cause to fear for canes. These considerations somewhat cooled the ardor of the baroness touching the matter of Raoul's union with the daughter of the marquis. On quitting him and the young Helen, she had been betrayed by the excitement of the separation; but at this distance cold reason had resumed its empire. Raoul was fair, handsome, finely formed, and poor; but of a noble family, which could boast of a pedigree running back to the first Christian baron. At an epoch of fusion and reconstruction, when--the pleasure of the Emperor giving new force to a very natural predisposition-parvenus of yesterday sought to emblazon

their escutcheon with armorial bearings, and to brighten their louis-d'ors by the salutary friction of some old parchment, Raoul might evidently pretend to a connection which should restore the fortune of his family. These ideas developed themselves gradually, and from day to day took a firm and more definite hold upon the mind of the baroness. She loved her son tenderly; and her love no less than her pride was wounded at the prospect that he was to rust in idleness or to be weighed down by poverty. She was herself comparatively young, but still of an age when the love of gain and the desire to provide for future contingencieswhen the calculations of selfishness begin to take the place of the more generous instincts of the soul-and it was very easy for a mother to persuade herself that her own ambition was nothing else than a sincere solicitude for the welfare of her son. Accordingly she who had hitherto held herself apart, mingling only with that fraction of the noblesse which persisted in their exclusiveness, now began to think seriously of uniting herself to the fortunes of the empire, and of seeking for her son some lucrative alliance, when they were startled by the news that the imperial eagle, struck with a deadly blow on the plains of Russia, held the thunderbolts only in her half-broken talons. Madame de Vaubert thought it prudent to wait and see, before taking any further steps, where the storm would break which was now muttering at every point of the horizon. This was the time, it will be recollected, when Stamply also received the news of the death of his son. The rumor came to the ears of the baroness, who charitably set it down as a just retribution, and occupied herself no further about it. She hated Stamply both on her own account and on account of the marquis; she never spoke of him save with contempt, and her exaggerated accounts of the position and privations of M. de La Seigliére and his daughter had contributed not a little to let loose upon the head of the poor man the enmity and persecution of which he was the unhappy object. Matters stood thus, when suddenly everything boded a change.

Madame de Vaubert was seated near an open window, and seemed in profound

meditation. It was neither the harmonies nor the images of a fine summer's evening, that held her thus dreamy and collected. She was gazing sadly and covetously upon the opposite castle of La Seigliére, whose windows were gilded by the last rays of the setting sun; and which, with its festoons, its arabesques, its cupolas, and its belfries, was radiant with glory, while the clustered foliage of the park beneath waved gently to the caressing breeze. She saw at the same time the rich farms grouped around it, and, in the bitterness of her heart, remembered that that castle, that park, and those lands ware the property of a boor and a clown. Raoul surprised her in the midst of these reflections. He seated himself by her side and remained silent, like her, gazing wearily up and down the landscape commanded by the open window. His usual vivacity had given way to a sombre melancholy. Having no taste for study, which alone could have beguiled his poverty, he wasted his energies in useless regrets and fruitless desires. That evening, during a solitary walk through the fields, he had encountered a jovial troop of young cavaliers, on their return from the chase, in full hunting equipage, to the sound of horns, and escorted by their hounds and their huntsmen. But he had neither horse, nor hound, nor huntsmen, by which to drive away his heavy hours, and returned to the house sadder and more dejected than usual. He dropped into his chair, leaned his forehead upon his hand, and the tears rolled down his already pale and somewhat wasted cheeks.

"My son! my child! my Raoul!" exclaimed his mother, drawing him to her bosom,

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"Ah! mother," cried the young man, bitterly, "why have you deceived me? Why have you deluded me with a foolish and vain hope? Why have you nourished me from my earliest years in such senseless dreams?

Why did you point

out to me from the bosom of poverty those enchanted shores which I was never to reach? Why did you not train me up to be contented with a moderate competence? to limit my wants and ambitions, and to bear myself with that humility and resignation which comports with our destiny? All this would have been very easy."

To these merited reproaches his mother made no reply, but hung her head in silence. At this moment a noise without attracted their uttention. She rose from her chair, went out into the balcony, and recognized Stamply at the end of the bridge which leads across the Clain, pursued by a crowd of boys, who were pelting him with pieces of turf. The old man, without offering them any resistance, was flying as fast as his age and his heavy shoes would permit. Madame de Vaubert kept her eyes upon him till he passed out of sight, and then fell again into a reverie. She soon came out of it, however, with a countenance radiant and smiling. What had passed? What had happened? Less than nothing-an idea. But an idea suffices to change the face of the world. (To be continued.)

OUR FOREIGN POLICY.

THE following being the first document which has emanated from our present Administration, and in which are laid down the principles of neutrality it means to adopt with regard to the governments now engaged in war in Europe; we think it advisable to record it in our Review, in which it can be more readily referred to than in the crowded and miscellaneous columns of a newspaper. There can be no doubt that it is essential to the welfare of this great commercial country, so to steer its course, as not to compromise its first great element of power, the shipping in

terest.

DEPARTMENT OF STATE. Washington, April 10, 1849. (

BARON VON ROENNE,

Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of the German Empire:

The undersigned, Secretary of State, has been directed by the President of the United States to make to the Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of the Germanic Empire, the following communication:

On entering upon the Executive office, the President's attention was called to the fact that a large steamer, named the United States, was fitting out at New York, destined, as was generally believed and known, for the naval service of the German empire. An exact inquiry into the fact, which he at once caused to be instituted, resulted in abundant evidence and irrefragable proof, to satisfy his mind that this war vessel was really designed to be employed by the central government of Germany in the unfortunate contest now existing between Germany and Denmark.

The United States at this moment remain in peace with all the world; they contemplate with profound interest the movements of other nations, in struggles to advance their true happiness, and to reform and improve the systems of government under which they live. In the progress and development of the great events which are daily transpiring in Europe, a conflict has unhappily sprung up between Germany and Denmark, that has not failed to awaken a new and lively solicitude on our part, as the common friend of the belligerent parties. It is precisely in this condition of affairs between these contending nations, that

the high and imperative duty has been devolved upon the Executive to take care that there shall be no violation or infringement of the laws of the United States, enacted expressly for the purpose of enabling us to preserve our cherished relations of amity and good understanding with all foreign powers, and to fulfil with strict impartiality the duties of neutrality, and all the obligations of our treaties with those powers. This grave duty is enjoined by the Constitution of the United States, which by solemn oath the Executive is bound to" preserve, protect and defend."

The enlightened minister of Germany cannot be ignorant of the existence of the act of Congress of the 20th April, 1818, entitled, "An act in addition to the act for the punishment of certain crimes against the United States, and to repeal the acts therein mentioned." To the stringent provisions of that statute, the undersigned is now instructed by the President to invite your Excellency's special attention. Its 11th section requires the forcible detention of vessels of the character described, (and within its purview comes, unquestionably, the steamer United States,) when about to depart under circumstances which render it probable that they are intended to commit hostilities against a friendly power. Another section, the 3d, imposes a fine and imprisonment on all persons engaged in such enterprises, and also the forfeiture of said vessels. And its 10th section makes it obligatory to the owners, &c. of such vessels to enter into a bond to the United States not to commit hostilities against any nation with which the United States are in peace. By the 8th section of the act, the President is fully empowered and required to execute the law by carrying all its provisions into effect.

Moreover, you are aware that the government of Denmark has entered a formal protest against the fitting out of this vessel for the objects alleged. In answer to the protest, the Danish minister has received from the President the most satisfactory assurances in reference to the views and feelings of the American government, and in regard to the course which the latter, under the circumstances, believe it to be a duty to pursue. Independently, however, of the consideration just adverted to, it is due to your Excellency to state that the President, guided by a sense of justice and good faith, had already, before the protest of Den