THE CHATEAU OF PAU.

A KING was born in that palace old,
His cradle a tortoise-shell ;*

And tales of his frolicsome youth are told
By the people who loved him well.

They say that a hunter's step he had
When he chased the chamois wild;

That his eye was bright, and his laugh was glad,
As those of a peasant's child.

And lightly he ran through forest and glen,

As light as the bounding deer;

As full of joy as the woodlark, when

It sings in the sky so clear.

The stranger who visits the Château of Pau, is shown the very chamber where Henry IV., then the only child of the Queen of Navarre, first saw the light, on the 13th of December, 1553. From thence he is led to another apartment, where, arranged with a degree of gorgeous splendour, but little in keeping with the massive and venerable character of the château, is the cradle in which the infant monarch was nursed. It consists of one entire tortoise-shell; and not the least remarkable part of its history, is the fact, that when, during the reign of terror, the furious populace rushed upon the palace, determined to destroy every vestige of royalty, it was secretly conveyed out of their reach, and its place supplied by the generosity of a gentleman of Pau, who happening to have one of the same kind amongst his collection of curiosities, suffered his own to be sacrificed, and afterwards restored the real treasure.

He wore the Bearnais bonnet of brown,

The sabot the shepherds wear,

He bathed in the Gave that comes roaring down
By the track of the mountain bear.

Rough were the paths where that young prince went,
Homely and plain his fare;

Yet perhaps it was seasoned with more content
Than the banquets of monarchs are.

I have walked in the steps he has often trod,
I have wandered where he has roved,
I have seen them point to the mountain-road
Which led to the friend he loved-

I have dwelt in the beautiful scenes that smile
Around his native glen;

I have gazed on the hills, and wondered the while,

If he ever was happy as then.

No; crowns bring trouble to those who wear

A diadem round their brows;

And gold and glory bring sorrow and care,
Which poverty seldom knows.

When first taken from the hands of his nurse, Henry IV., Prince of Navarre, was committed to the

care of Suzanne de Bourbon Busset, baroness de Miossens, a woman distinguished for her many virtues and high intelligence. In order to carry out with better effect the system of education which the queen had adopted for her son, he was sent with his governess to reside at the castle of Coarraze, near Nay; where the purest air, the simplest diet, and the most natural exercise, could be enjoyed, without the interruption of courtly visitors, or affairs of state. The directions of Jeanne d'Albret were, that the future monarch should be trained like a child of the mountaineers; and, faithful to her important trust, the baroness exercised over her pupil a discipline resembling that of a Spartan mother. He was treated like the children of the village, was clothed in the same dress, and partook of their enjoyments and their sports. His food was often the same dry bread; he wore the bonnet of the peasants, the same kind of woollen vest, trod the mountain paths with bare feet-fought not unfrequently with his little comrades-and excelled in many of their favourite games. For many years of his life he knew no other language than the patois of Béarn, and this knowledge contributed much in after life to endear him to the people of this country. It is said of him, that a bon-mot or a lively sally in his maternal language, was one of the most powerful means of influence he could employ over the young men whom he led to the conquest of Paris; and whom, by a happy repartee,