love had made and time had had no space to heal. He shrank from placing in front of Adam the picture of himself and Eve as they had stood in the days when, Adam all unknown, the balance of a happy future seemed trembling still within the hand of fate; and he paused from time to time as he spoke, hoping some word or sign would make his task more easy; but Adam never spoke or turned aside his eyes, and under that fixed gaze Reuben was forced to tell his tale out to the end, constraining his pride to give out word for word what Eve had said in Adam's praise, and searing the green memory of his love by making his lips repeat those vows which she had told him bound her to another. At length the task was ended, the jealous rage, the mad revenge, was all confessed; and satisfied that, whatever guilt it might please Adam to lay to his charge, he had at least shown that Eve was free from any shadow of stain, Reuben paused, and the two so strangely linked stood looking at each other with envy, jealousy, distrust clouding their minds, while a chord of sympathy drew them together as they recognized a similitude in their actions which made each self-abasement uttered find an echo in its listener's breast. Proud, stern, unyielding to emotion as both these men had lived, it was not in them to take comfort in the shifts and excuses weaker natures find: the hearts that had refused pity for their neighbors would not entreat it because they themselves now stood in need. As they had judged their fellows so they arraigned themselves, and thus unwittingly rendered the first atonement man is called upon to make. The sight of Adam's strong, powerful form shaken and bowed down by the remorse he strove in vain to control moved Reuben strangely. The haggard pallor of his striking face, the sunken eyes, the untasted food, the unslept-in bed,- each told its tale of misery and woe, and opened out to Reuben a depth of despair his own experience hitherto had furnished him with no gauge to measure. What if with no further warning he fetched up Eve to Adam's aid? The thought would bear no hesitation: a thousand jealous "noes" battled with the suggestion, but Reuben's better self resolved to have its way, and, seizing the opportunity of Adam's head being bent down in his arms, Reuben went swiftly out and along down to the keeper's room, where Eve had been left impatiently awaiting his return. Although the grating of the hinge roused Adam, he neither stirred nor moved until, satisfied by the unbroken silence that Reuben had left him to himself, he ventured to raise his head. Where could he go? where hide himself from human gaze? And as the thought of all his shame came crowding to his mind he started up and wildly stared around, and then around again, seeing each time the walls, which looked so near, draw nearer still. No hope! no hope! Here he must live until the hour when those who brought him here would drag him forth to swear away his comrade's life. O God! how helpless he felt! and as he let himself drop down each limb gave way and nerveless fell, as if dejection claimed him for her own. The time had been when Adam's mind was racked by thoughts of what lay in the hearts of those he had left behind their pictured hatred and contempt stung him to madness; the words they would say, the curses they were uttering, seemed ever ringing in his ears. But Reuben's tale had for the time swept this away and filled its place with dark remorse for what he had done to Jerrem. True, Reuben had shown that Jerrem's hand had wrought his own and their de struction, but what of that? Adam through him had wreaked his vengeance on them all had, Judas-like, delivered them to death: henceforth, branded and disgraced, he must be an outcast or a wanderer. As this fallen spectre of himself rose up and flitted in his sight a cry of wild despair burst forth, wrenched from the depths of his proud heart-a cry which some one near sent echoing back; and as it came his hands were caught, and pity seemed to stretch her arms and fold him to her breast. Was it a nightmare he was waking from -- some hideous dream in which our bodies slumber while our fancies live a lifetime? Would this vision of Eve (for Eve it was who knelt close by his side, her arms around his neck) melt away and fade as many a one of her had done before? She calls him love her love, the husband of her heart. What! he, this guilty outcast-can he be this to any one, and most of all to Eve? A finger's touch seemed laid upon the veil which hitherto had shut out hope from Adam's view, and as it shrivelled up and rolled away the light revealed that Mercy still sat throned on high, and bowing down his head on Eve's neck, he let his stricken soul take comfort in the thought. But while Adam was thus cast down | subject seemed able to sober or subdue under suffering, sorrow had taken but a his reckless spirit, and this was any menslight hold on Jerrem, who, after the first tion of Joan or Uncle Zebedee: to them shock produced by the horrors of a place the poor soul seemed to cling with all the then branded as "the darkest seat of love his nature could command. And woe this side of hell," gradually regained when Reuben, instructed by Eve, told his old elasticity, and was soon ready to him how stricken down the old man lay, treat, laugh and drink with all who came and farther on promised to write for him near him. His merry jokes, his quaint all the messages he wished to send to sea-songs, the free handling he gave to Joan, a heart of wax seemed given to his his plentiful supply of money, - all served keeping, in which it now must be his care to ensure his popularity, so that, instead to mould the little good there yet was of the man sunk under misery and de- time to teach. And so it happened that spair whom Reuben, after leaving Adam, in all his future visits - and every hour had girded himself up to encounter, he that Reuben had to spare was given up came upon Jerrem rollicking and gay, a to Jerrem - Joan was the theme that prime favorite with all the authorities, threaded all their discourse, and by her and a choice spirit amid the crew of tried power Jerrem's soft heart and softer naand untried prisoners who in those days ture became to Reuben as an open page, crowded together in the foul wards of wherein he read of actions in which good Newgate. and bad were so mixed up and jumbled that in the very midst of his reproof and condemnation Reuben was often forced to stand abashed before some act of generous pity which found no echo in his former life. And out of this humility, which grew in strength, there sprang forth greater merits than from all the weary efforts he made at working out his own atonement; for Reuben, like Adam, had been over-satisfied about his own rectitude, and took pride in the knowledge that if ever he had committed a wrong he had acknowledged it freely and expiated it to the uttermost farthing; while Jerrem, for the first time in his life brought to see guilt in what he had counted pleasure, scarce dared to listen to a hope of mercy for himself, but rather craved Reuben to beg it for the many who had been thoughtless sharers in his folly. His ruling desire was to see Joan once more, and no sooner was he told that the admiralty session had begun and that his day of trial, although not fixed, was near at hand, than he begged Reuben to write and ask Joan to delay her promised visit no longer; and this Reuben did, adding on his own account that, from what the lawyer said, it would be best she came at once by the coach which would reach London on the following Thursday week, on which day Reuben would be waiting to receive her. Fresh from the sight of Adam's dark remorse, filled with compunction at the thought of all the ills their joint passions had hurled on Jerrem's head, Reuben had invested Jerrem with a sense of wrong, to make reparation for which he had come prepared to offer whatever sacrifice he should demand. To find the man for whom all this feeling had been conjured up reckless and unconcerned, casting oaths against his ill-luck one moment and cutting jokes at his possible fate the next, jarred upon Reuben terribly, and made him at once decide that it would be worse than useless to urge upon him any necessity for taking thought for his soul when he was so utterly reckless as to what would become of his body. The story Reuben had to tell of himself and Eve, the betrayal, and the suspicions it had aroused against Eve in Adam, merely affected Jerrem as a matter for surprise and curiosity. He seemed pleased to hear that Eve was close at hand, but still expressed no wish to see her. He talked about Adam, and with a painful absence of all malice told Reuben to say to him that he'd best lay it thick on his back, so that the judge and jury would let the other chaps go free. The circumstance of being brought to London to be tried seemed to afford him immense satisfaction -a thing, he said, that hadn't happened for sixty years and more, since old swung for it; and then he fell to wondering how soon that might be his fate, and if so how many from Polperro would make the stretch to come so far. He'd promise them it shouldn't be for nothing: he'd show the Cornishmen that he could cut his capers game. Only one Now, at the onset of this disaster had such a letter reached Polperro not a man in the place but, short of knowing it would cost his life, would have risked all else to go to London, and if Jerrem was to die give him courage by mustering round their comrade at the last. But the downpour of disaster had cowed these daring There was no question now of Uncle Zebedee going, for the confinement, the excitement, and the degradation had been too much for the old man, whose free and happy life had never known trouble weakened under the burden imposed upon it; so that now, except when some unexpected incident roused the flickering flame of memory, the past few months were blotted from his mind, and in company with Jonathan - who, broken down by ill-usage and turned out of prison to die, had managed to crawl back to the friends he knew he should find shelter with - he roamed about harmless and contented, always watching for the " Lottery's return, and promising, when she did come back, that he would give them all a fling such as Polperro had not seen for many a day. spirits, and the men who had not known what fear meant so long as success was secure now trembled and gave way under the superstitious certainty that ill-luck was following them and misfortune had marked them for her own. Their ener- or restraint, and his mind had gradually gies paralyzed, they succumbed to what they looked upon as fate, and in most cases were seized without a struggle and led off to the nearest prisons without an effort on their own part toward resistance. The money over which, from the small scope for spending it, they had seemed so lavish and reckless, when needed for lawyers and counsel and bribes went but a small way; and though they made a common purse of all their hoards, not a day passed without some house being stripped of the substance which adorned it, so that money might be got for the husband, the son, the brothers who had brought these treasures home. The women, on their knees, pressed on the farmers' wives their chintzes, their lace, their gaudy stock of jewelry, and when this market failed toiled along to Liskeard, Plymouth and Launceston, carrying their china, silver plate and bowls in the hope of finding somebody to buy them. It was an easy matter to cheat him now, and when, her journey all arranged, Joan stepped into the boat which was to take her round to Plymouth and left old Zebedee standing on the shore, raising his thin cracked voice to fetch her ear with cheery messages for Jerrem and for Adam, whom she was going to meet, her cup of bitterness seemed to overflow.. From The Fortnightly Review. FALL OF THE BASTILLE. With a revenue cutter - often two always in sight, landing parties of king's men, who, recalling ugly thoughts of the hated press-gang, roamed hither and thither, ready to seize any one who hap pened to show his face; with half the husbands, sons, and brothers in Plymouth A CONTEMPORARY NARRATIVE OF THE clink or Bodmin jail, and the rest skulking in farmhouses or lying hidden in the secret places; with plenty vanishing and poverty drawing nigh, the past circum stances which had led to this desolation were swallowed up in the present misery it had entailed upon them; and though every one now knew the whole story as it stood how that through Jerrem writing to Eve she had had it in her power to tell Reuben May, her former lover, who, led on by jealousy, had betrayed them to the revenue-men-so familiar had Reuben's good services to Jerrem become known that it was taken as only one more of his many friendly actions that he should write to Joan, urging her to come to London without delay, and promising to meet her and see that she was taken care of. If any among them thought that Joan would go probably to Eve's home, they made no mention of it, for Eve's name was by a tacit understanding banished from their mouths, and the memory of her lay as a seal to that dark sepulchre wherein, with bitter scorn and hate, Adam lay buried. To the numerous accounts of the "storming of the Bastille," which abound in French, German, and English literature, it may be thought superfluous to add another; but the recent revival of the memory of that event, which the present government in France has thought fit to celebrate in the form of a special "national festival," to be henceforth repeated on each succeeding anniversary of the 'glorious day," as it is termed, which witnessed "the downfall of despotism in France," may perhaps serve as an apology for the following narrative. It emanates from the pen of an eye-witness of that event, and bears the marks of authenticity from its crude simplicity, and its freedom from any attempt to enhance its picturesqueness by figures of rhetoric, or the importance of its results by philosophical reflections. It is to be observed, however, that in the midst of these two ingre dients, so conspicuous in many of the the arsenal as the place where they were to be found. These citizens, disappointed and surprised at finding neither powder nor cartridges at the arsenal, learned from persons dwelling in the neighborhood tille. On the Monday evening, suspicions that they had been transferred to the Basof the governor began to be entertained, though not followed by any outward demonstration, as no signs of hostility had hitherto been manifested by the citadel. It appears that it was not till the Monday night that M. de Launay received into the Bastille forty soldiers of the Swiss regiment of Salis-Samade, sent him by M.de Bezenval; while, as may be remembered, on Tuesday morning two companies of Gardes Françaises, led by M. de Rhulières (commandant of the Guet-àcheval), were dispatched to the Barrière the Hussars, who, however, decamped on du Trône, supposed to be threatened by seeing them approach. On the return of these two companies, as they passed before the Bastille, they found a crowd assembled there anxiously contemplating the cannon which the governor had or dered to be pointed towards the Street of St. Antoine, and which he had run out on seeing the two companies, followed by a numerous band of citizens, hurrying towards the Barrière du Trône, as he Details of the Capture of the Bastille; evidently believed, with the intention of taken from the Manuscript Memoirs attacking him. The sight of these guns of M. Louis-Guillaume Pitra, Native disquieted the mob which had collected in front of the Bastille, and which was of Lyons, Elector of Paris in 1789, continually increasing. They wished to President of the Provisional Commit-detain the two companies, but the sertee of Police during the Revolution until the 20th August, Member of the Municipal body in 1789, 1790, and With this consideration, then, we proceed to give the plain, unvarnished narrative of the "Capture of the Bastille," written by M. Louis-Guillaume Pitra, one of the representatives of the people, and an actor in the scene, as we find it in a manuscript copy of Grimm's correspondence for the year 1791, now before us, and which we have every reason to believe has never before passed into print. 1791. AUGUSTUS CRAVEN. DURING the night of the 12th-13th, the directors of the arsenal annexed to the Bastille, fearing, as they said, the vagabonds who infested Paris, and anxious to serve the government by placing beyond the reach of the populace the ammunition which alone could furnish them the means of attack or defence, had caused the powder deposited there, and a certain number of cartridges which by special orders they had prepared during the week, to be carried into the citadel. This operation had not escaped the notice of the citizens. A vague rumor of the fact had transpired on the Monday and gained ground, when M. de Flesselles gave orders to deliver cartridges to several citizens who had applied to him for that purpose, indicating geants who commanded them in the place of their officers refused to remain, stating that they could not do so without orders from the Permanent Committee, to whom they were on their way to render an account of what had passed at the Barrière du Trône, and to relate what they had witnessed at the Bastille. The Permanent Committee, informed on the return of these companies of the hostile measures with which M. de Launay threatened the town, immediately sent a deputation requesting him to withdraw his guns, and not to commit any act of hostility against the city of Paris, assuring him that the citizens would not attack the fortress under his command. The deputation was admitted into the Bastille without difficulty; M. de Launay receiving the deputies with courtesy, ordering breakfast to be served to them, of which he himself partook; promising not to make use of his guns unless he were attacked, and in their presence giving orders to withdraw M. Thuriot de la Rosière then appeared on one of the towers, holding the governor by the hand, and making signs with his hat. In this peaceful attitude, denoting a perfect accord between them, he was perceived by the people below and loudly applauded; while M. de Launay, whose patience, nevertheless, was beginning to falter at the sight of this clamorous multitude, reiterated his promise to M. de la Rosière that he would not be the first to attack, and that the latter might impart that assurance to the electors. M. de la Rosière hastened to convey this message to the Hôtel de Ville, where he arrived before the deputies who had preceded him. His statement, confirmed by theirs, determined the electors to make a proclamation on the steps of the Hôtel de Ville in order to tranquillize the citizens and announce the pacific intentions of the governor of the Bastille. them. Meanwhile the crowd, ignorant of | tumultuous cries, and were advancing in this deputation, went on increasing; the the direction of the governor's quarters, ferment was extreme. It was then the which they threatened to attack. people began to clamor for the arms and ammunition contained in the fortress, and to talk of attacking it. Meanwhile some citizens of the Faubourg St. Antoine, perceiving M. Helic, a soldier of fortune belonging to the queen's regiment, who lodged in that quarter, accosted him, begging him to tell them by what means they might be able to seize on the Bastille. M. Helic advised them to send to the Gardes Françaises and obtain guns from them; urging them in the interim to arm themselves with whatever weapons they could procure, he appointed them to meet him later at the same spot, and returned to his lodging to put on his regimentals. Meantime others ran into the town to carry off the guns of the Gardes Françaises, announcing on their way that the siege of the Bastille was about to commence. This project and its mode of execution were being thus concerted at the entrance of the Faubourg St. Antoine But, in the mean time, while this sort of in front of the Bastille by three or four peace was being proclaimed at the Hôtel hundred citizens, while a mob surrounded de Ville, war was commencing at the Basthe stronghold clamoring for gunpowder tille. Scarcely had M. de la Rosière left and firearms, and the deputies of the the castle before the mob which surHôtel de Ville were losing time in confer-rounded it, and which he had left apparring and breakfasting with M. de Launay. ently quiet, demanded with loud cries At length they left the fortress, but with arms and ammunition, threatening to set infinitely more difficulty than they had entered it, for one of them - M. Bellon was violently maltreated by the people, who took him for a spy, when M. Thuriot de la Rosière, elector and president of the district of La Culture Ste. Catherine, adjoining the Bastille, presented himself at the outer gate of the castle. After some difficulty he was introduced by the little outer drawbridge of the guard-house into the interior of the fortress, of which the inner drawbridge was raised. Having ascended one of the towers, he perceived that the guns had been withdrawn about four feet within the embrasures, but that, nevertheless, they were still pointed towards the town. Here M. de Launay renewed his assurance to M. de la Rosière that he would not fire, or attempt any hostile act against the citizens, if he were not assailed the first. The soldiers composing the garrison, in number about eighty "Invalides" and forty "Little Swiss (so called to distinguish them from the Swiss regiment of guards), as well as the officers of the staff, ardently joined in expressing similar intentions. Meanwhile the multitude assembled at the foot of the towers continued their fire to the governor's house, which was only protected by the somewhat low outer wall which surrounded the fortress, and a feeble portcullis. M. de Launay descended from the interior of the castle in order to confer with the principal citizens. He agreed to admit, within the space situated between the Bastille and the Government House, a certain number of them, to whom he consented to deliver the muskets and powder which he did not absolutely require an imprudent offer, but as I have already remarked, the gov ernor no longer retained the tranquillity and presence of mind requisite in so dif ficult a situation. However that may be, I am informed by one of the actors of the scene that it was agreed with him that only a certain number of citizens should enter into this outer court, but scarcely had M. de Launay re-entered the Bastille and the outer portcullis was lowered when the mob rushed into the intervening space. This unarmed multitude could only attack the Government House; all its efforts without muskets or cannon would have proved unavailing against the inner drawbridge, supported by a strong iron grating and defended by three pieces |