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visit to the Exposition; lunched at the Ecole | Militaire; and at five o'clock witnessed a review of 45,000 soldiers in the Champ de Mars. The Queen drove on to the ground with the Empress, in an open carriage; followed by the Emperor, Prince Albert, Prince Napoleon, and the Prince of Bavaria, on horseback. When the troops defiled, the two ladies viewed the spectacle from the balcony of the Ecole Militaire. After dining en famille at the Tuileries, the Imperial and Royal party went to the Opera Comique, where they appeared with less state, but were received with quite as much enthusiasm as on Tuesday at the Grand Opera.

"We now come to Saturday's programme of festivities, and find them even more artistic, splendid, and successful than any that had preceded them-more conclusive in the evidence which they afford of the extreme care with which every detail connected with this memorable visit has been thought out, and of the taste and judgment with which the whole affair has been conducted.

"A quiet visit to St. Germains, with its fine scenery of forest, river, and château, began the day, and fitly prepared his Royal guests for that wondrous spectacle which the Emperor had prepared in their honor at Versailles."

"We ask the reader to accompany us in imagination to Versailles and pass a too short night there amid splendors such as few of those who witnessed them can ever hope to see approached. Talk, indeed, of enchanted palaces and fairy halls and illuminated gardens, and all the decorative adjuncts with which the fancy teems when its love of the wonderful is highly excited. But what idea can they give you, or any true description, or anything short of having been present yourself, as to what Versailles was last night? You must go back to the feel ings which you had when still a child-to the time when the imagination and the senses were so quick that nothing seemed impossible to you-when it was not too difficult to put 'a girdle round the earth' or to perform any one of delicate Ariel's' proffered feats. The age of fresh and young belief in wonders is nearly worn out, or only lives in the cold forms which severe science and calculating hard-headed discovery prescribe. But what is wanted here is the confiding credulousness of nursery days, an unquestioning spirit that will think we tell our story only too plainly, and be angry with us because we try to be simple. Some ten miles from Paris, to the westward, stands the

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Palace of Versailles, a building of great extent, surrounded by a terraced garden in the Italian style, with fountains and statues spreading coolness and beauty outside, and long ranges of saloons and halls within, the walls of which are either hung with historical paintings or decorated with marble and gilding and mirrors and tapestry. A lovely autumn night has set in, and the moon is shining pensively in a sky which is not altogether free from clouds, and yet not overcast. As you approach this home of the Sovereigns of France, wherein in times gone by so many wonderful persons have lived and so many strange and great scenes taken place, you find the long avenues lighted up, and the architectural outlines of the building itself indicated by lines of gas illumination. There is a block up of carriages at the entrance to the court-yard, all filled with men in Court dress, and women so beautiful, so covered with jewels, that they flash out upon you through the dark, and whose light robes, carefully held up to prevent crushing, make them look like so many Venuses emerging from the foam of the sea. Presently a sergeant de ville and your own dexterity get you through, and you are soon passing through ante-rooms filled with stately porters and footmen who stand up as you pass by and don't laugh, but look very grave indeed at the horrible absurdities of the uniform which you have borrowed from some costumier for the occasion.

"A staircase brings you to the floor on which the State apartments in splendid success set forth upon their emblazoned walls the historical glories of France. But before you enter these you must give up the precious green ticket which you have persecuted everybody for several days to obtain, and only got at last as a favor never to be repaid, except by prostrating yourself before the donor for the rest of your days. You forget all that, in what you now have to see. The retinue of servants disappears, and the Cent Gardes in full costume, varied occasionally by a Sapeur Pompier, occupy a series of chambers through which you pass in grand procession. Standing in pairs at the entrance to each salle they look upon you with magnificent coldness as you pass. But at length you leave the bulk of them behind, and join the rest of the company, who you find are all in uniform, moving about in a flood of light poured down upon them from thousands of waxlights. Imagine the effect. The windows are all open, the night comes in refreshingly, and you turn to look out upon

the terrace, when, behold, you find its verge of balustrade illuminated with colored lamps which have converted it into an arcade of variegated splendor, in which three sets of arches with terminal crowns over them form the most conspicuous objects. The fountain basins in the foreground have undergone the same process of decoration, and their surfaces tremble under the murmuring flash of gas jets like lakes of molten silver or gold. Arab chiefs move about with the slow, solemn gait which they appear to have borrowed from their own camels, admiring the wonderful spectacle within the palace and outside. Suddenly, towards the south, a gun is heard, the bands in the great mirrored ballroom play God Save the Queen,' and a movement among the crowd shows the fireworks have commenced.

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"On the further verge of a fine sheet of water, with the shadows of the Park behind to bring out its effects, and the thunder of the cannon countenancing authoritatively the streams of soaring rockets, the pyrotechnic display takes place. We know nothing about the management of such things in England, nor does Cremorne or Vauxhall give any, the faintest, conception of the refined splendor with which they are conducted on this occasion. A double bouquet, the first springing from a transparency of Windsor Castle, and the last, still more magnificent, from ships of war, brings the fireworks to a close, and causes the ball to open with everybody in a frenzy of admiration. Then the Emperor, wearing the Riband of the Garter, takes the Queen into the circle prepared for her, and Prince Albert leads as his partner the Princess Mathilde, and Prince Napoleon the Princess Royal, and the Prince of Wales and Prince Adalbert of Bavaria join in the stately quadrille, which is danced while grave Ministers of State, like Lord Clarendon, and Count Walewski, and Lord Cowley, and soldiers like Canrobert, and Vaillant, and the Arab chiefs, already alluded to, some in white bournous, some in red, look solemnly on at a spectacle such as few of those who witnessed it can ever hope to see repeated. Waltzes and quadrilles followed each other three or four times. Among the Imperial and Royal guests Her Majesty the Empress looks gaily on, a perfect Queen of the Revels, though not sharing in them before general dancing commenced. It was midnight when the Emperor took Her Majesty and the rest of the Court to a banquet, which was magnificently served in the

Theatre of the Palace.

The above splendid fête concluded the festivities held in honor of her Majesty's visit to Paris. Sunday was given up to rest; and on Monday morning, at ten o'clock, her Majesty started in a splendid State carriage drawn by eight horses, loaded with golden. trappings-each horse held by a footman in gorgeous livery-for the terminus of the railway that would convey her to Boulogne, on her way home. The State carriage was preceded by a company of mounted Chasseurs, a brilliant staff (General Canrobert figuring among the Generals), the band of the Guides, squadrons of the Guides, the Cent Guards; State carriages drawn by four horses, conveying the high officers and ladies of the Royal and Imperial households ; a State carriage and six horses, in which the Prince of Wales, dressed in Highland garments, was the chief personage. In the State carriage with her Majesty were the Empress, the Emperor, and Prince Albert. As the cortége-the rear of which was brought up by the Cent Guardes-passed along the line of route, loud and hearty cheers were given for the Queen, which her Majesty acknowledged by very low bows and very gracious smiles, appearing to be highly delighted with the splendid pageant which concluded her visit. On all sides people were astonished; for this departure was much more stately matter than the Royal entry.

Shortly after twelve o'clock, the special train left the station for Boulogne, and arrived there at five, when her Majesty was conducted by the Emperor to the hotel where rooms were prepared. A review of the troops took place shortly afterward on the Sands, and the Queen returned to the hotel soon after eight o'clock. At a few minutes past eleven the Emperor conducted her Majesty on board the Royal yacht, Victoria and Albert, amid the roaring of cannon and a blaze of fireworks from the cliffs. The most cordial adieus were exchanged between her Majesty and the Emperor. The magnificence of the scene was considerably increased by a brilliant display of flambeaux, which were held by the soldiers, who formed a line for a considerable distance, upon the heights on both sides of the river. The town was beautifully illuminated, particularly the houses in the leading streets, and the public buildings. As the Royal yacht receded from the shore, a continuous firing of rockets and feux-d' artifice was kept up. Her Majesty was favored by the most beautiful weather.

The full moon shone during the night with the greatest brilliancy, and the wind al

most sank to a calm, whilst the sun rose on Tuesday morning in unclouded beauty. Circumstances more conducive to an agreeable voyage could not have occurred. The royal yacht Victoria and Albert was followed by the Osborne, the old yacht, and the Vivid steam despatch vessel, the Fairy, tender to the yacht, and the Trinity steam-yacht. At half-past seven the hull of the Royal yacht

became visible at Portsmouth, and at ten minutes past eight she passed the Nab. On passing through Spithead, a few minutes later, the garrison battery at Portsmouth fired a Royal salute, announcing the Queen's return. The Royal yacht arrived off Osborne at about a quarter to nine. At ten her Majesty landed and proceeded to the Palace.

From Colburn's New Monthly.

POLITICS IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

WE have already hinted at the intensity of political feeling in the last century, which carried partisanship from the coffee and chocolate-house to the theatre, and even the inner recesses of the lady's chamber, and induced the zealous beauty to proclaim her principles by the position of the patches of court-plaster on her face, and by the seat which she took at the playhouse.

In the discussion of some question of state, fathers, Brutus-like, sacrificed their children, tradesmen neglected their business, and friends fought and slew each other. But, after all, the coffee-house was the arena of political discussion. Addison mentions "the inner parlor of the Grecian,' as the resort of a knot of furious politicians, who weighed every measure brought forward in parliament, canvassed every notice in the Gazette, and doubted the efficacy of every treaty that was signed. In 1724, we find theCocoa Tree," or "Ozinda's," distinguished as the resort of Tory politicians, and the Saint James's" for its Whig frequent

ers.

Towards the latter part of the century this rage was in nowise abated, for Goldsmith, in the "Citizen of the World," writes: "An Englishman, not satisfied with finding by his own prosperity the contending powers of Europe properly balanced, desires also to know the precise value of every weight in either scale. To gratify this curiosity, a leaf of political instruction is served up every morning with tea; when our politician has feasted upon this, he repairs to a coffee-house, in order to ruminate upon what he has read, and increase his collection;

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from thence he proceeds to the ordinary, inquires What news?' and treasuring up every requisition there, hunts about all the evening in quest of more, and carefully adds it to all the rest. Thus, at night, he returns home, full of the important advices of the day: when, lo! waking next morning, he finds the instructions of yesterday a collection of absurdity or palpable falsehood. This one would think a mortifying repulse in the pursuit of wisdom, yet our politician, no way discouraged, hunts on, in order to collect fresh materials, and in order to be again. disappointed."

In the days of Swift we may find, from the very cautious character of his correspondence, and the equivocal and often hieroglyphical language of his friends in writing to him, as well as from frequent direct allusions to the fact, that the public post was not held sacred during these times of hot partisanship, but that the correspondence of parties, supposed to be at all of different views from the government was repeatedly intercepted and opened. This system appears to have prevailed alike through the successive administrations of Godolphin, Oxford, Bolingbroke, and Walpole; discreditable and repulsive to our English feelings, it was, perhaps, tolerated more easily through the very intensity of the passion for politics, which disposed both parties to recognize the rule that all schemes were justifiable which led to the desired end in this trial of strength -the impeachment of the one or the other party's minister.

We must bear in mind that, throughout

the century, there was a continual supply of food for this passion to feed upon. Twelve years had but elapsed at its commencement, since a revolution, entirely altering the dynasty, and settling the constitution on a surer religious and political basis, and which affected the destiny of the country so materially that it required some time to adjust matters on the footing which was deemed to be the safest to the nation, and still longer to reconcile men's minds to the new order of things-to soften down asperities, and to obliterate prejudices; people had hardly ascertained what reforms they were to expect-what liberties were to be given to them. Then the death of two successive sovereigns without issue rendered another change in the line of monarchs inevitable, and the Hanoverian succession was at length fixed upon. This caused a protracted struggle between the old Stuart party, who saw a prospect of returning to power when Anne sat on the throne without issue and left it a legacy for contention, and the partisans of the new line, which, settled by arms in 1715, was again renewed with great energy in 1745. Another fruitful source of discussion was found in the continued foreign wars, and our being almost throughout the century involved in disputes with the neighboring courts. The violent writings of Wilkes, Junius, and Sampson Perry, helped to keep the flame alive, and the greater efforts the government made to reduce it by adopting rigorous proceedings against those writers, the fiercer it burned-the attorney-general and the judges were merely pouring water upon burning oil. The dispute with our revolted colonies in America, and their subsequent successful struggle for independence, divided the nation into two parties; and, finally, the century closed upon a state of anarchy and confusion which, breaking out with the French Revolution, had spread epidemically over almost the entire continent, leaving it doubtful where or when it would be stemmed, and leaving England engaged in a vigorous attempt to restore the distribution of power which had been so wildly upset, for the better security and peace of Europe. This was a period well adapted to draw out great statesmen from among the heterogeneous mass collected in parliament, and Bolingbroke, Harley, Walpole, North, Chatham, Pitt, Burke, Fox, and Canning, were alternately thrown up on the surface of the troubled waters.

But, in every coffee-house, from Saint

James's to the Royal Exchange, and in every tavern in the city, there were rival statesmen who were settling the gravest affairs of the nation, under the soothing or inspiring effects (as the case might require) of tea, coffee, cocoa, chocolate, punch, or purl. Particular boxes in the coffee-house were allotted to little knots of these sage politicians, or a particular room allotted to à more influential club of them. Associations for the solving of great state problems sat nightly at every tavern, and energetically protested against, or warmly supported, the measures of the government. A hatter from Cheapside would come down to his club prepared to pay off the national debt, as he paid off his own debts-on paper: a Cornhili tailor, who was ignorant of his domestic duties, would find fault with duties imposed by the government: a cutler, who was a member of some loyal volunteer corps, would be prepared to show that some besieged general was entirely ignorant of the art of fortification: or a man living by his wits, and who had no principle in himself, would come and spout by the hour together in opposition to a government measure, but only objected to it "on principle." A draper would deliver speeches by the yard, as conjurers vomit ribbons, or mine host himself called to their councils, would, perhaps, more concisely "come to the pint" whilst a druggist, who was looked upon as the professional member of the club, would enter into an explanation of his "scruples." Some of these clubs were of importance, and created a sensation in the political world; there was the "Jacobite Club," for the restoration of the exiled Stuarts-the "London Corresponding Society, united for a Reform of Parliament"-the "Constitutional Society," advocating the cause of the revolted colonies, or "plantations," in America-the "Supporters of the Bill of Rights"-the "Society of the Friends of the Liberty of the Press," of which Sheridan was a member; and a host of others, which had some pretensions to importance and respectability.

The programme of the evening's discussion was frequently advertised in the public papers, when the club was understood to be a controversial or open debating club; but one or two specimens of these announcements will suffice:

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From Dickens' Household Words.

CORALIE.

as she called it, with her harp-master, a little elderly man in yellow slippers, who thoroughly despised her for her want of musical talent.

IN one of the streets branching off to the right, as you go up the Champs Elysées towards the Barrière de l'Etoile, exists Madame Sévère's Pensionnat for young ladies: a tall, white, imposing building, as befits its charac- Coralie was tall, and had a commanding ter and purpose. Almost conventual disci- | carriage; her large eyes were black-a velpline is observed at Madame Sévèré's; the vet black, soft-not sparkling, with clear young ladies are supposed to know nothing depths into which it was pleasant to gaze; of the gay doings in their neighborhood. her complexion of a rich brown; and her But, as they pace round and round the mo- well-shaped head a perfect marvel of glossy notonous garden, their eyes being in no way braids and plaits. An elegant and accomamused, their youthful imaginations go wan-plished girl, she was nevertheless filling the dering to an extent little dreamed of by their situation of under-teacher in Madame Sévèreverend directress or their reverend confes-ré's school, with a salary of three hundred

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Go away, my dear," says Miss Sixteen to Miss Twelve, who comes bounding up to her.

66

But what are you two whispering about?" asks little Curiosity.

"Never mind, my dear," says Miss Importance, unconsciou-ly imitating her own mamma's way of sending herself out of the room on the arrival of a confidential friend. "Go and play at Les Graces with Louise." "And so, as I was saying," continues the oldest girl of the school, Madame called her down to give her the letter; and can't think how awfully she blushed. I am sure she knew the hand."

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And now the confidante wonders if Made moiselle can be really engaged, and who to? None of the masters, that's certain; for she never speaks to any of them, not even to Mons. Ernest, the drawing-master, who has more than once hinted what a capital study Mademoiselle Fischer's head would make. The two girls think a great deal of this Mons. Ernest. School-girls generally do place a glory round the head of one or other of the gentlemen who have the honor of teaching them. A pretty young creature once owned herself to be desperately in love,

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francs, or twelve pounds a-year, for which she engaged to teach grammar, history, geography, writing, cyphering, and needlework of every description, to about twenty pupils, whom she was expected never to lose sight of during the day (not even in their play hours), and, moreover, being required every morning to brush the hair of this score of obstreperous school-girls. The half of Sunday once a fortnight was the only holiday Coralie was allowed during the halfyear.

A terrible life this for a sensitive, welleducated girl of twenty-two. However, Coralie had endured it unflinchingly for four years, and looked plump and rosy still. Coralie was waiting with all the faith of a pure heart for the return of her affianced husband. A year more, and he would be back; and as that thought rises, how she bows her blushing face, and lays her hand over her heart, as if the strong beats must be seen by some of the tiresome mother's cherubs round her chair.

Coralie was an orphan. Her father, a medical man, had died when the cholera was raging in Paris. He had been respected by his professional brethren, and as a matter of course; beloved by his clientelle. What doctor is not ?-the family doctor we mean.

Poor Dr. Fischer died, just as his prosperous days had set in, leaving a widow and a little girl to the tender mercies of the world. And the wind was tempered to these shorn

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