suspected in matters of faith, although, in compliance with your wishes, and for the sake of dear Margaret, I have for years abstained from all outward practice of my religion. Yet great and painful as this sacrifice was, it has been unavailing. I have good reason to think that not only Chievosa, but many others, have the secret of my heresy, as they call it. As to my other opinions, I never have made a mystery of them. You, too, Cornelius, are mistrusted. You are wealthy-a sufficient motive surely to draw down upon you the persecution of that Inquisition which is weighing with a yoke of iron on these miserable provinces. If you refuse Chievosa, you bring upon yourself an enemy who may, at will, employ fearful means of revenge. Now-a-days a man has no need of looking far to find a betrayer. A discontented menial-a jealous neighbour-a disappointed suitor-an angry friend, may, from one hour to the other, and that without compromising himself or suffering the world to know of his villany, at once plunge you into a dungeon whence you may never return to the light of day, or only to be delivered over to the flames. Believe me, Cornelius, let us leave a country where a tribunal of blood, amenable to no law of humanity or justice, is imposed upon the people. Let us fly with our well-earned wealth, and with the objects of our affections, whilst they are yet our own. Let us hurry to England, and there in safety enjoy all the happiness which a mild and equitable government can bestow. Elizabeth loves well the Flemings, and likes to see them bring to her country the industry and arts which a weak, short-sighted prince foolishly disdains. Let me but see you safe, my dear brother, and my poor Greta, then, and then only, can I act."

"How?" inquired Cornelius.

"I would return," answered Paul, simply.

"Nay," said Cornelius, "I have listened to you patiently, but can agree with you in nothing. I speak not English as fluently as you do. To me, to Mary, it were a severe blow thus to banish ourselves from our native land, to which habit, affection, all the ties of existence, bind us. I see no such cause for immediate flight as you do; and I am confident, in the hour of peril, Chievosa both could and would stand my friend."

"And you would buy his protection," answered Paul, with a look of contempt, at whatever price he might choose to put upon it?"

"Come, Paul; I would not willingly anger you who have been my best friend through life, to say nothing of our close relationship; but the less we argue points on which we do not agree, the better in my opinion; and as to Greta, her mother and myself will, doubtless, prove competent judges."

"You have never spoken so plainly before," said Paul, with a bitter smile. "I wish you had; it would have spared us much misunderstanding; but," he added, as Cornelius, with more firmness than usual, rose and made for the door; "but mark me, Cornelius. These are times that will set the ties of blood and long tried affection at nought. Brother will stand against brother, the child against the parent. Well, be it so, Cornelius-pass! I detain you no longer."

Cornelius paused on the threshold, as if in some hesitation; but, apparently, a more powerful impulse led him forward, for he left the apartment without even turning round. Paul followed slowly and in silence, and closed the door carefully behind him.

"ANYTHING-FOR-PEACE” MEN.

BY E. P. ROWSELL.

I HAVE a great dislike to the man whose eternal remark is "Anything for peace." He never argues himself, and would be glad if all argument could be averted, that there might be no disputes and no quarrelling. He has opinions, but he scarcely ever mentions them; and when he does venture to hint at their existence, it is only necessary you should state at once your own are decidedly the opposite to cause him to shrink back immediately, muttering a half assent to your antagonistic views. matter what principle may be involved in any point-he is a man of peace, he has a hatred of strife-peace must be had at any cost, every other consideration must be lost sight of; and for the sake of quietness, and from an unwillingness to stir up strife, your " anything-for-peace" individual appears tacitly to approve that which he would be absolutely ashamed to advocate, or even to acquiesce in, openly and avowedly.

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It really can hardly be calculated the injury done to society by these very amiable but sadly weak-minded individuals. Any man who has stood up against a palpable evil and denounced its originators and supporters any man who has struggled against oppression and wrong, who has endeavoured to fight manfully with some evident ill and striven to uproot it, so that there might, through its downfall, be brought about a happier and a brighter state of things-well knows how bitterly discouraging, how hopelessly dispiriting, has been the answer received from many of those who should only have been too ready to have aided his efforts, to have engaged with him in the righteous war, to have toiled with him to the attainment of the same end-the answer, "No, noanything for peace-no quarrelling-wait quietly, and all will be right by-and-by."

This circumstance renders the effecting reform of any description really a very fearful matter. The class of people we have mentioned will almost invariably be found favourable to allowing things to remain as they are. It is not that their judgment may approve of the present condition of affairs (we are speaking now generally), but that inasmuch as to alter it would involve more or less strife and disturbance, they will withhold their sanction from any movement having that object. So if I am one of a body whose proceedings have heretofore been almost of an uniform character, I may point out to that body with convincing clearness the absurdity of those proceedings and the need of a change; but so certain is it that, in addition to any decided opponents, I shall have arrayed against me the "anything-for-peace" men, who will regard me with much disfavour (albeit, they may secretly assent to my views) as a turbulent individual, stirring up strife-that the chances are greatly against anything accruing from my effort, and my only consolation will be that I shall feel assured I have with me, in spite of their antagonistic votes, the opinions of the majority of my audience.

I lose all patience with these men; there is something to me inexpressibly pitiable in the idea of a man submitting to wrong and virtually acquiescing in the commission of evil, because he cannot summon courage

enough to make opposition. Am I fond of jarring and tumult? Heaven forbid. But in this wretched world we must remember there is too often absolute need of force being opposed to force-of violence being met with violence; if all good men were as meek and unresisting as are some of their class, what would speedily be the fate of every upright and virtuous individual? Peace is a good thing, a very good thing, but oftentimes the way to secure it eventually and permanently, is to abandon all hope of it until we have actually so crushed our enemies that they are totally incapacitated for the carrying on war. If all right-thinking men would adopt and act upon this notion-if, having determined positively upon what is proper, and what is just, they would deliberately and firmly set themselves to enforce their views and to establish that which they believe to be equitable, depend upon it, victory, however delayed, would be theirs at last, and triumph in the end would recompense their labours. I say, then, that the reason so little real good is done in the present day is, that the majority of men lose sight of that most important fact, that it is of no use quietly chatting of improvement which may be achieved in various matters, and wishing that it could be accomplished; but being deterred from proceeding further, either through inertness or unwillingness to awaken the strife contingent on vigorous and unmistakeable effort-of no advantage is this, if reform of any description is to be carried, if benefit is to be wrought, if evil is to be overcome, if wrong-doing men are to be opposed and their plans thwarted and laid in the dust, right-minded men must throw off their comparative apathy, and, leaguing strongly together, must strive with their utmost energy, by the exertion of their every power, by the putting forth of all their resolution and perseverance, to accomplish their glorious ends, and to obtain over all their opponents a decided and a lasting success. I see no hope of the great and good changes that might be effected until this movement be made. I am no friend to turbulent agitation. I hate uproar, noise, and tumult; but I believe that this is not the age when men may sit quietly in their arm-chairs and thank God that improvement is making its way. It may be true-good of a certain description may be progressing, but there ever has been, there always will be, there most certainly is now, a mighty current of dark evil rolling onward likewise with fearful strength, which, if not checked and turned, if not met and successfully resisted, may in a coming hour dash away its bounds, and, sweeping before it all that is good and noble in our land, place us in a far lower position than we occupied in some of those past ages which we are now apt to look back upon with contempt as periods of miserable barbarism. And though my remarks may, perhaps, be of a character scarcely suitable for these pages, and though I may be voted a bore by those readers who expect to find here only the thrilling romance or exciting tale, I cannot refrain from observing in continuation that I do believe there is much in the aspect of the present time requiring and demanding the careful attention of all right-minded individuals. It is, indeed, a hot struggle now to gain the means of subsistence; it is growing hotter daily; the middle classes are treading on the heels of the upper, and the lower are pressing upon the middle; mechanical labour is becoming every day more distasteful, and the desire to earn bread otherwise than literally by the sweat of the brow is perpetually manifest. And in the train of all this, as a natural consequence, come glaring vice and ghastly

immorality. There may not be so much of open transgression of the law at this time, but there is an amount of irreligion, and an utter disregard of all worthy considerations among a vast mass of the people of this nation, which cannot be viewed without deep sorrow and much anxiety. And as year after year goes by, and matters only become more entangled, as the cry of discontent grows louder, and the standard of morality falls lower-as the yell of faction rises and spreads-as class sets itself against class, and interest against interest-as views clash more fiercely and disputes rage more hotly-it may well be with an anxious eye that the lover of his country contemplates the aspect of affairs. With an anxious eye, but it need not be with a despairing one. It is only necessary that the men who have the intellectual sinew for the task should fairly set themselves to work to examine into the various evils which at this time beset us, to consider the remedies which are applicable to, and which will avail against, those evils; and depend upon it, a mighty and a glorious change will spread itself through our land, the clouds now lowering above us will break and disperse, and a bright and rich sunshine rest permanently upon us. I fear I may be viewed as dragging politics into this magazine, in which they ought not to be mentioned. I repeat, that I am not for a moment regarding politics. I am simply setting before my readers this very stern and startling fact, that the aspect of the times shows a vast amount of evil of various kinds requiring most earnestly to be met and dealt with in a more vigorous and energetic style than that in which it is at present treated. And I say a great hindrance in the way of increased action are your "anything-for-peace" men-men who are contented to let evil grow and accumulate rather than there should be the chance of strife being engendered through an attempt at its removal. They are right-thinking men for the most part, and they would act rightly if they dared'; but they are firmly imbedded in a miserable apathy and timidity, from which it would appear almost impossible to extricate them. Now, I say to these men-I say to allthat these are not times when people may voluntarily shut their eyes as to what is passing around them, and think there is no need to disturb themselves about matters in which their own comfort and convenience

may not be importantly involved. These are times requiring earnest thought and vigorous action, and let every one be assured-let the drones and the sleepers, the "anything-for-peace" men, and all others of the class, know and feel, that if they wake not up from their lethargy and their selfishness, they will be hurled in a body to the wall, and having been found useless and unprofitable members of society, will be straightway expelled therefrom, amid the well-merited scoffs and reproaches of those whose lives are lives of labour, and who triumph in the very toil which threatens to overwhelm them.

ZIG-ZAG TO PARIS, AND STRAIGHT HOME;

OR,

A THOUSAND MILES AND FOURTEEN DAYS FOR FOURTEEN POUNDS.

A JOURNAL Of a tour in FRANCE, IN DECEMBER, 1848.

Friday, Dec. 22nd.-By an early train to Versailles, where we breakfasted at the Hôtel de la Chasse Royale, the Royale dimly showing on the signboard through a recently-applied coat of white paint,-the same place at which, some years ago, I spent some very pleasant weeks. The same people still kept the house, of the name of Oursel, and I was overwhelmed with kind inquiries and civilities.

A grand thing altogether is Versailles, -the palace, the gardens, the park, the two minor palaces, the Place d'Armes, the stables, and the town, itself the offspring and consequence of the huge royal lodging-house adjacent. All savours strongly of Louis XIV.,-despotism, great ideas unchecked, magnificence, courtliness, selfishness,-the good and bad of the full development of the ultra-monarchical principle. But it is a grand whole, and one lingers in admiration for hours about that gigantic palace and on those vast terraces and flights of steps.

A story is extant concerning the preservation of the old hunting-seat of Louis XIII., which remains built up in the pile erected by his son, quaint with its red brick walls, and white stone dressings, and marble busts. It is said that Mansard, wishing to get rid of it, condemned it as unsound. "Very well," said the king, "pull it down, but restore it, with every stone, and brick, and detail, as it now stands." He spoke, and, after the manner of majesty in those days, turned his back. Mansard revised his judgment, and the old château stands now as it stood then.

The chapel interior is the finest architectural composition of the place. The extraordinary height of this building, overtopping all around, at once strikes the eye in a general exterior view. This was a trick of the architect, who thus sought, by the reductio ad absurdum of comparative effect, to accomplish his object of preventing Versailles from being a stunted palace; and, in fact, an attic was added subsequently to its original erection, and the chapel yet towers above it.

The day was not a public one, but our passports procured us a special entrée, and we saw the interior in its length and breadth. Although our time was limited, the visit was a sufficient refresher to my recollections, and satisfactory to Square. The place is unmistakably kingly. I saw on this occasion several rooms I had not seen before; among them, the celebrated Eil de Bœuf, or ante-room, so called from the large oval window high up in one end of it, and the confessional of Louis XIV. Fancy his confessions, if sincere! which I take it they never were; for in those days, all went down,-morality, religious feeling, conscientiousness, -before the inflated pomposity of royalty, obsequiously deceived by the whole world, and diligently deceiving itself the while, into almost the idea of its being alike superior to God and man. Versailles, and all such things, went to the account of that great reckoning,-that dies iræ that was to come, and that came at last, and began in this very palace, and was there worked out in some of its most territic and astounding episodes. The fleurs de lys, by the way, on the royal arms over the entrancegate, were covered up; but it was curious to remark, how, here and else