peror!" As we proceeded on our route we could still perceive him in the same position, un port d'arms, his feet immersed in the river, on whose margin he had at first stood.

On Saturday the 12th, as we were starting from Vernon, the Zampa was not to be seen. At the moment when our uneasiness was at its height we perceived the missing boat coming towards us, all steam up. We weighed anchor instantly, and after having passed several small towns arrived at delicious little Mantes, whose houses seem to grow out of the Seine. The civil and military authorities did us all the honours. It was not so at Meulan. The people were there as numerous as elsewhere, but the clergy and the national guard were missing, from some mistake as to the hour at which we were to pass. When we stopped at Poissy for the night, the Duke d'Aumale arrived to meet his brother. On the next day, Sunday, our almoner celebrated mass for the last time near the body of the emperor. We all assisted at these last solemn prayers.

In my opinion, which is certainly not worth much, the Duke d'Aumale is not half so fine a fellow as his brother, our captain. Apart from the affection of a sailor, the Prince de Joinville is a tip-top fellow. Not one of his brothers can, or ought to be compared with him. I have seen the Duke of Orleans and also the Duke of Némours, but I would give the whole family, "lock, stock, and barrel," for the little finger of my gallant captain.

After mass we were again en route. In the Zampa they sang the Chant du Départ and the Marseillaise.

We passed the night at Maisons, where Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, Charles X., Napoleon, and Marshal Lannes, successively dwelt. It is now the property of Jacques Laffite.

We were told a deputation from both Chambers was to meet us here. There came neither peers nor deputies. But then it was so cold-so freezing cold. In the evening the Duke of Orleans arrived, and also the sons of General Bertrand. On the 14th we weighed anchor betimes. This was our last station.

The bridge of Pecq was decorated with inscriptions and tricolor flags. The vast mass of people assembled cried, "Vive l'Empereur!" "Vive le

Prince de Joinville!" "Vivent les Marins de St. Hélène!" We gracefully acknowledged these electrifying manifestations of enthusiasm.

Elegant and fashionably dressed women now also appeared in crowds. From St. German to Courbevoie, our passage was a triumphal march. We rapidly passed Marly and Bougival, and soon arrived in sight of Malmaison. Here was another souvenir of the heroes. It was the dwellingplace of the good Josephine; it was here the emperor slept for the last time before he left for Rochefort, whence he went to die at St. Helena. The windows of the imperial residence were filled with ladies in deep mourning. At length we arrived at St. Denis. Here a new solemnity, a sort of prologue to that of Paris, was to take place. The national guards of all the surrounding communes had mustered in full force. The line extended farther than the eye could reach. On the other side of the bridge the troops of the line were under arms. The clergy of the town were headed by M. Rey, formerly Bishop of Dijon, and a vast multitude of Parisians had also come out to

join us. On the approach of the procession there was manifested the same religious respect that I have so often described. The demoiselles de la Légion d'Honneur, that useful and brilliant creation of the emperor, were all in deep mourning in a tribune reserved for them. As we proceeded along, a group of ladies had fixed the attention of the flotilla. They waved their handkerchiefs as a sort of signal to us. At this moment the Prince came on deck by chance. In the twinkling of an eye the words "My mother!" escaped him; then correcting himself, he said, "Gentlemen, it is the queen." The cry of "Vive la Reine!" now resounded throughout our little squadron. In passing the château of St. Ouen, we perceived it was completely shut up. As the flotilla passed under the bridge of Asnieres a pigeon alighted on the deck. It bore under its wing a letter by the queen, addressed to the Prince.

We found at Clichy, in the midst of the assembled authorities of the national guard, a débris of the imperial glory. It was General Rognet, colonel of the grenadiers of the guard, who wished, notwithstanding his infirmities, again to salute the

emperor, whom he had followed when living, and mourned in death. We were soon in sight of the bridge of Courbevoie. To the right of the landing-place there had been raised a funeral temple destined to receive the bier.

I read in the journals, and I am told it was also published in The Times, that Marshal Soult, Admiral Duperré, and M. Duchatel, came and passed the night by the bier. These are mere drolleries of the newspapers. These three gentlemen came, it is true, but they remained only long enough aboard to eat a biscuit and to drink a glass of madeira. I am in error: they drank two glasses of madeira and ate four biscuits. In this consisted their homage.

At length the morning dawned on which the funeral procession of the emperor was to make its entry into the capital. Late on the preceding evening, the 14th, the national guard had occupied the bridge of Neuilly with a view to preserve order and to keep off the crowd. All the sailors of the Belle Poule and of La Favorite landed. We were directed to carry the body to the temple which had been prepared for it. Meanwhile the imperial car advanced towards the bridge with its twelve colossal statues, its shields, draperies, bees, eagles, laurels, &c. After the religious ceremony which took place in the temple, we raised the body on our shoulders, and in the midst of solemn silence laid it in the funeral car. Then commenced, midst the sound of all the church-bells of Paris and the great bell of Notre Dame, that wonderful procession of which Paris had never seen the like before. These prodigious funeral ovations have been already described by abler pens than mine. It was accomplished in the midst of a million of spectators. It was worthy of the illustrious dead.That is all that need be said of it. The crew of the Belle Poule surrounded the car. We had orders not to quit the body till the last moment. At two o'clock we arrived before the gate of the Invalides, which was hung all over with mourning

cloth. For the last time we bore the bier on our shoulders, and laid it under the dome. Our mission was now terminated. Thenceforth Napoleon slept in the midst of his brave soldiers, on a bed of flags conquered from the enemy.

On the 26th we were received by the king and the queen. The king addressed us very graciously, and decorated with his own hand M. l'Abbé Félix Coquereau, our worthy and handsome almoner. Many of our officers received promotion, and each of us a gold medal, which will be an heir-loom in our families. What shall I say more? That we were happy, that we were feasted by all Paris, and that our prince treated us as children. It is now time that I should lay down my pen. A word by the way, however. Whilst the emperor entered Paris triumphantly his nephew lay imprisoned in the fortress of Ham. Whilst General Bertrand placed on the bier the sword of Napoleon, another of his companions of exile-and the most cherished, perhaps - Montholon General Montholon - was in irons. Is not this a contradiction and a bitter mockery? If the voice of a poor man can reach the throne the king will hear my cry - Pardon and amnesty.

And now, good reader, adieu! It is a hard thing for a sailor to wield the pen for so long a time; and, to speak the truth, quill-driving don't please me at all. I would rather— much rather-splice ropes. Farewell worthy friend Tom. Though now decorated, I am not a whit prouder, and I offer you in conclusion a cordial shake of the hand.

LE HÉROU.* Maintopman aboard the Belle Poule.

P.S. I ought to say that I have a remorse of conscience. I have a little maltreated two young fellows who have never done me harm, and I make them willing reparation. The Abbé Coquereau then has no calves; and M. Rohan Chabot is not a beardless boy, but a serious diplomatist, abounding in merit and discretion.

Ir was late in the evening of an October day that the mayor, the aldermen, and common councillors of Coketown, preceded by the towncrier, the macers, and other officers of state, descended the steps of the townhall,

neither robed nor chained, we are forced to acknowledge, because robes and chains they had none; but looking as dignified as men can look in their ordinary apparel, and marshalled for a solemn procession. Throughout three long hours they

had retained their stations within that venerable edifice, sorely lamenting that the dinner, which had been ordered at four, would certainly be spoiled at six. Repeatedly had messengers and scouts been sent forth to ascertain whether or not the London road were empty; and as each came back with the announcement that there was no carriage as yet visible, the countenances of the civic body fell, and their hearts died within them. Let it not be supposed, however, that the trepidation of these excellent magistrates was occasioned wholly by the natural regard which they had for their dinner. It is a serious matter, doubtless, to contemplate the expression of all flavour from a fresh salmon through excess of boiling, and the reduction of a haunch of five-year old mutton to absolute rags and tatters by the injudicious application of fire. But the magistrates of Coketown had that day other grounds of uneasiness than these. It had been remarked by several of their body,-by the mayor in particular, whose timidity was proverbial, that large bodies of strange men were sauntering about the streets. The mayor's messengers, moreover, while reporting unfavourably of the non-appearance of the expected carriage, had brought back word of one or two groups as occupying certain little eminences outside of the town. And now, as the day advanced, more than the mayor expressed an opinion that

there was surely some mischief brewing. The town was full of strangers. Orderly they were, and quiet; for their very conversation was all carried on in a suppressed whisper; but their numbers seemed to be incalculable, and each successive minute contributed to swell them. No wonder, then, that the civic authorities looked grave. Reformers as they were, they do not seem, under any circumstances, to have counted much on the good citizenship of the masses, whose political privileges reform was to enlarge; and just at this moment the congregation of these masses was felt to be exceedingly inconvenient.

"What are your friends up to tonight?" demanded Mr. Bull, as he ranged himself behind the chief magistrate.

"Don't call them my friends, Mr. Bull," was the reply. They're that scoundrel Beaver's friends; and I'm much deceived if we don't have mischief soon, for there he comes himself."

Mr. Bull looked in the direction indicated by the mayor, and saw! sure enough, the arch-demagogue. He was in the act of sending off halfa-dozen aides-de-camp towards different points, and the purposes for which they obeyed his behest soon became apparent. The crowd, which had hitherto wandered up and down, began to collect into a compact body, and ranks were formed with as much regularity as if an army had been effecting its formations.

"I am confident, Mr. Mayor," exclaimed Alderman Bull, " that some violence is intended. I am sure, likewise, that the Recorder is the object of it. I will ride round by the Butts, and warn him of his danger, and send him back if I can, till means can be provided for the maintenance of order. In the meanwhile, go you forward. The mob will not harm you, and the circumstance of your walking on will mislead them."

Mr. Bull did not wait for any reply; but abandoning his place in the procession, ran as fast as he could to his own house. As good luck would have it, he found his horse ready accoutred, the groom having been intrusted with some message by his mistress, which he was about to execute; so desiring the man to follow, he sprang into the saddle, and dashed down Church Lane towards the Butts. Away he then went, skirting the town, till he found himself in advance of the more distant of the heights, which the scouts had described more than once as occupied by bands of strange men. To his great surprise, not less than to his delight, they were empty; for not ten roods from the ascent he beheld the Recorder's carriage advancing in full trot. Mr. Bull took off his hat, rode directly in front of the chariot, and stopped it. A quizzical-looking head was instantly thrust through the window, and a voice, not such in its tone as usually appertains to a leading orator in the senate, desired to be made acquainted with the cause of the interruption.

"You must on no account think of entering Coketown, sir,” replied the alderman. "The town is crowded with strange men, who are here for no good. I quite mistake if you be not the object of their attack. I entreat of you to return to the stage which you last quitted, and wait there till we provide sufficient means to protect both you and the town."

"What! run away from my duty because a mob chooses to threaten violence? My good sir, I will do nothing of the sort. I am the bearer of a commission from my sovereign to administer justice in his name; and I will not set the example of disrespect for the crown and the law, by refusing, through motives of personal fear, to discharge the trust. I pray you to stand out of the way, and let the postilion drive on."

"I entreat you not to go forward -I implore you to turn back. Well, well, if you are determined to run the risk, at least be persuaded to enter the town by a route different from that which the mob has occupied. What good can arise from irritating an insane populace, who will vent their wrath not upon you only, but on the peaccable inhabitants?"

The Recorder was not very willing to yield this point either; but he did yield it in the end; and Mr. Bull's groom coming up at the instant, his master desired him to get upon the box, and guide the driver to the rear of the Court-house. Meanwhile, he himself galloped on, not to Welverton-for he feared that an alarm given in that direction would but precipitate the collision which it was his object to avert,but to Altamont Castle, where, if any where, he believed that there might be influence enough to disperse the threatened storm. He found both the member and his son at home; and both, to do the member justice, entered readily into his views.

"I will go down to the town immediately," exclaimed Mr. Blackston, as he rang and ordered his horse.

"And I," added his son, " will make all possible haste to get together some of your yeomanry troop. I don't believe you will succeed in persuading these men to do right.”

"I will try, at all events; and you can do as you have said."

Instantly the little conclave broke up; and while the young soldier scoured the country, making one of his father's tenants after another accoutre and mount, the member for the borough became the Tory alderman's companion back to the scene of danger; for such it had by this time be

come.

The Recorder, under the able guidance of Mr. Bull's groom, and covered in some degree by the gathering twilight, had succeeded in eluding the eyes which, by hundreds, if not by thousands, watched for him. He reached the Court-house unmolested; but both the building itself and the area or place around it were empty. The civic authorities, acting on the advice of one of their own body, had marched in procession as far as the outskirts of the borough; while Mr. Beaver's column, opening to the right and left that they might pass through, marched after them in solemn silence. There, then, the Recorder lingered, chafing, as it was natural that he should, under the gross insult to which his office had been subjected; and not, we are bound to add, in very good - humour with those whose business it was to have

hindered the occurrence of the wrong. But if the Recorder was dissatisfied with the coldness of the first greeting which awaited him, he very soon found cause to wish that it had never changed its character. He might have been half-an-hour, perhaps, or something less, in quietude and languor, when the sound of a thousand voices fell upon his ear. He looked out from one of the windows, and beheld amid the deepening gloom an enormous crowd of persons hurrying up the street,-not restrained and kept in order, as we had occasion a minute or two ago to describe, but labouring one and all under the most violent excitement.

"Where is the old traitor ?" "Down with the d-d Tory!" "Down with the people's enemy!" "Down with the House of Lords!" "To the Courthouse-to the Court-house ! He's there." "We'll burn it about his ears, and shew him what the insulted people of England can do." So shouted the mob, who seemed to have shaken themselves loose from all other restraint than that of their own fury, -for their very ranks were broken in their eagerness to gain the pile which they thus devoted to destruction. But the Recorder was too wise a man to abide the shock. It was not his first visit to Coketown, where for many years he had dispensed justice; he was therefore tolerably familiar with the means of egress and ingress to the hall, and casily contrived, through a side door, to escape into the street. But whither was he to flee? He saw the gate of the WelvertonArms open; he rushed through, and mounting to an upper chamber, found himself alone in the very room in which the town-council had prepared to feast both him and themselves.

How shall I find words in which to describe the scenes that followed? Irritated by the discovery-how effected has never been satisfactorily explained-that the intended instrument of his own glory had defeated the well-laid plans that were to secure it, and rendered the display of popular power and popular dignity alike impossible, Mr. Beaver gave utterance to some intemperate expressions, which being taken up by those near him, and passed on from the head to the tail of the column,

operated upon the whole mass as fire operates upon gunpowder. Without waiting to receive any instructions from their leaders, the men broke off from the rear, and made a rush towards the market-place. There was no possibility of staying the movement; for the voice of Stentor himself would have failed to be heard over the growing tumult; and darkness had pretty well set in. Therefore, like savage beasts escaped from their cages, the multitude hurried to the attack, and the Court-house doors were in a moment beaten to pieces. Then rushed they into the interior of the hall, shouting aloud for their intended victim, and smashing windows, chandeliers, tables, and benches in their fury; till by and by arose the cry for "Fire!" and fire was not slow of being applied. It was a frightful conflagration that; yet it seemed rather to whet than to appease the rage of the populace. "Where is he?"

"Where's the traitor!" "We'll have his life!" rose in unearthly yells over every other sound; and never, perhaps, has any threat been uttered which those who spake it were more resolute to carry into effect.

All this while, the Recorder was vainly hoping to lie hid in an hotel, the very name of which rendered it peculiarly obnoxious to the Reformers. It was a baseless delusion, and he soon discovered it to be such; for, one after another, the members of the corporation joined him; thus adding tenfold to the risks which they seemed anxious to obviate, but to obviate which they confessed themselves to be entirely without the means. They commanded the landlord, indeed, to close and bolt his gates. They presented themselves by turns at a balcony which overlooked the square, and making use of all manner of endearing terms, they besought the gentlemen who stood below to disperse. But they might as well have spoken to the winds. "Hand out the b-y Tory, or we'll burn you all in a lump!" was the reply; and to carry into execution this comfortable promise prepa rations were forthwith made.

"You must escape at all hazards, Mr. Recorder," said one of the civic body, whose faculties seemed to be less entirely prostrated than those of his colleagues. "We cannot protect