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a prisoner, and had received neither letter nor message. The door was unbarred, and wife and children flung themselves into his arms!

In the first transports, all was forgotten save the ectasy of actual tangible presence. Some hours passed thus; but when night closed in, and the girls were laid in their little prison beds in an adjoining cell, the husband and wife, sitting side by side, began to question the past. Lafayette was frightfully changed. He knew that there had been massacres, -a Reign of Terror in France: he dared ask no question. Little by little his wife broke each horrible incident to him, and the violent deaths of her family, whom he had loved as his own.

And now the prison life began. The mother and young daughters, voluntary prisoners, spite of the gracious promises of the Emperor, were allowed no exercise; they could write no letters, save under the eye of the gaolers; their money was taken from them, and they were forbidden to attend mass. All the household work was done by themselves; they swept their rooms, made the beds, mended their clothes, and eat with their fingers.

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in Indian ink, the account of her mother's life, now published with her own.

When the household work was done, and the cell swept and garnished by the loving girls, Anastasie made shoes for her father, who read aloud to them in the evening with that musical voice that had so often stilled and fascinated the Parisian mob. Thus passed twenty months' captivity.

Buonaparte, at the peace of Campo Formio, insisted on the freedom of the prisoners of Olmutz. After five years Lafayette was free. Madame Lafayette, too, began to rally as soon as they were free, and established in the house of a friend at Witmold, near Hamburg. Here her husband's friends and partisans rallied round him, George arrived from America, and, after years of long and patient endurance, she possessed all her treasures.

One more act of public life remained_to be done by this unconscious heroine. Lafayette was still proscribed, and she must liberate him. Leaving him in Holland, she set out for Paris, in order to observe the political feeling in the capital after the 18th Brumaire. From what she saw she advised him to join her without waiting for any permission, and, confiding in her judgment, he came to Paris. This unauthorized act gravely offended the First Consul. He was so incensed, that he would not allow himself to be addressed on the subject. In this

My mother," says her daughter, Madame de Lastayrie, was supremely happy. If it be remembered that from the age of fourteen her passion for my father had absorbed her life, what she had suffered from his long and frequent absence, his in-moment of alarm, Madame Lafayette solicessant occupations, the dangers to which he was constantly exposed, how she had passed the last three years without hope of ever seeing him again, to possess and to hold the object of so much love anywhere was to her a daily and hourly bliss no surroundings could diminish. She marvelled at her own capacity for happiness; she reproached herself for the fulness of her content, he being a prisoner."

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cited and obtained an audience. She pleaded her husband's cause, arguing that he could not justly be considered either as an exile or an emigrant, and was not therefore subject to the laws affecting them. She recalled his patriotism, his valour, his sincerity: she spoke warmly, but with discretion. Buonaparte listened attentively; he was favourably impressed. Detesting the doctrinaire woman of the period, political intriguantes like Madame de Staël, he respected and admired this legitimate display of feminine eloquence and courage.

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Madame," said he, "I am charmed to have made your acquaintance. You have spoken admirably; but you are entirely ignorant of public affairs."

But in spite of this " supreme content with the husband of her love, the hero of her life, nature rebelled, and her health failed. After her previous life of motion and excitement, without exercise or wholesome food, illness came, alas! to remind her that she was mortal. All possibility of consulting a physician at Vienna was de- Lafayette was, however, permitted to renied her. "If she left Olmutz she could nev-main in France, and the re-united family er return!" so to live or to die she stayed. settled at Lagrange, near Brie. Here the Her illness rapidly increased; she could permanent repose Madame Lafayette so neither move her hands nor her feet. much needed was granted. Here she could Low fever set in. For eleven months did unreservedly indulge the supreme passion of she thus suffer; yet so serene and happy her life. She sought nothing beyond,was she, that it was impossible to believe transported into ideal scenes created by her in any danger. In the breaks of this ill-fancy. But the last scene was at hand. ness she wrote on the margin of some We soon felt that her summons had books they had brought, with a toothpick, come, and that no skill could save her,"

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"The

66 Those were her last words. "We stood about her bed, moved into the centre of the room,- we all knelt round it, watching each breath she drew. Without any suffering, with a heavenly smile on her face, still holding my hand, this angel of tenderness and love ceased to live."

wrote Lafayette, after her death. evening that she became delirious she said to me, If I am going to another home, you know I shall only think of you. Whatever it may cost me to leave you, I would gladly sacrifice my life to ensure your eternal happiness. It seemed as if love for me was stronger than disease,- that it conquered it. Even when this angelic creature was, as it were, already dead, when the coldness of death had frozen her limbs, some warmth and consciousness still remained in the hand I clasped in mine. Perhaps had she been conscious, her passionate A FEW hours before people began to vote love might not have found such abundant yesterday morning M. Villemain, Perpetual Secretary of the Academy, died tranquilly "She had no fear of death; her religion" of that terrible malady called eighty was all faith and hope; she had fulfilled ev-years." He had been so long Perpetual ery duty of religion; she believed the sin- Secretary that it seemed as if the King of cere and virtuous of all creeds would be saved. I know not,' she used to say, 'what will happen at their death; but God will provide. They will be saved.'

utterance.

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During an interval of reason she exclaimed, How I thank God that my ardent love to you was a duty! How happy I have been! What a privilege to have been your wife!'

From The Pall Mall Gazette. M. VILLEMAIN.

Terrors himself respected the title. A great deal will be written and said about this correct and elegant writer and orator, who began his public career in 1810. He was nineteen years old when M. de Fontanes, Grand Master of the University, found his talent so precocious that he presented him with a lectureship at the Charlemagne Lycée, and two months afterwards "When I spoke of my own tenderness he was named master of conferences at the for her, Yes; it is true; yes. Repeat Normal School, and taken under the protecthat once more. It is delightful. If you tion of M. de Narbonne, aide-de-camp to think I did not love you enough in return, the Emperor. His Majesty, who had a it is because God gave me no greater power great hankering for servile genius, soon of love. I love you!' she repeated; I cast his eye on Villemain, who was charged love you passionately!— as a woman, -as to amend the classics by striking out such a Christian, body and soul!'

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"All the scenes of her life passed before her. She repeated with infinite emotion the Canticle of Tobias she had recited on first seeing the towers of Olmütz; she recalled her secret tears at my departure for America, hid that her parents might not blame me. Ah!' cried she, for six more such years at Lagrange! But I am dying. Have I ever offended you? Have I been a loving wife;' 'Yes, yes, surely.' Then bless me, and promise ever while you live to think of me as you do now.' Bless me also,' said I; and she did so, for the first and last time.

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"The day of her death we trembled to hear her say,To-day I shall see my mother.' When her sister for a few moments seated herself beside her, I own that I felt my conjugal affection crossed by a sentiment of jealousy for the only time. I passionately longed to occupy her exclusively. I wanted all her looks, all her thoughts. She also seemed impatient for me to take my old place again. When I had done so, she took my hand in hers, and softly whispered to me, I am all yours.'

maxims as the autocrat desired should be
hidden from the eyes of young France. M.
Villemain refused. He asked if it had ever
entered the mind of Cæsar to give the Ro-
man youth an expurgated Cicero ? He lost
the Imperial favour, and took his revenge
three years later, when the allies entered
Paris. When they visited the Institute, M.
Villemain, who had refused to alter a sylla-
ble of Tacitus, complimented
"the gallant
heir of Frederick, and the magnanimous Al-
exander." This language was protested
against at the time, though it was pretty
fashionable, and later it was written that
M. Villemain should be sent as a professor
to Berlin or St. Petersburg, but that he
should never be allowed to teach in France.
However, he succeeded M. Guizot at the
Faculty of Letters. He lectured on French
literature at the Sorbonne, and had the art
of rendering his lectures interesting and
amusing as well as instructive. In spite of
his antecedents the students never broke
up the benches as they did for Sainte-Beuve
or Tardieu. In spite of an ungainly figure
and bad delivery, M. Villemain was attract-
lively eloquent. Two things embittered his

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Le louvoyant Villemain flotte

existence his physical deformity, which speare. With the mass of the Parisians M. his political enemies turned to the greatest Villemain was never very popular. Mme. possible account; and his fear of the Jesu- Recamier said of him: Mon Dieu! que its. He was ugly as Johnson or Mirabeau; Villemain est donc aimable! Il ne dit pas and such was his dread of the Company of un mot de ce qu'il pense, il ne pense pas Jesus that it almost affected his intellect. un mot de ce qu'il dit; mais qu'il est done He saw them everywhere, and was constant- spirituel et grâcieux!" Another epigram ly in dread of their poisons and daggers. of an unknown author, and of some thirty On one occasion he fancied that the Jesuits years old, says: bad broken into his house, jumped out of his window, and was severely hurt. He was taken to an asylum, and was cured bodily and mentally. M. Villemain was elected a member of the Academy at twenty-nine, and under Louis Philippe became deputy, then peer, of France, and afterwards Minister of Public Instruction. The These few lines have been always considrevolution of 1848 drove M. Villemain into ered as the best description of his charac private life and back to his books and man-ter; as to his talent, it was “Un dernier deuscripts. He was a first-rate English scendant de La Harpe arrivé jusqu'à nous.” scholar and a profound admirer of Shak

Entre Mathurine et Charlotte;

Dit-il a la Raison et dit-il a la Foi.
Je n'aime que vous! - Je n'aime que to

Mais dans le fond don Juan dit: Je n'aime qe
moi.

"NOT LOST, BUT GONE BEFORE" (3rd S. x. | by insects into three classes, which he calls noise, 404, 460; xi. 163.) — I am inclined to think that a fragment of Antiphanes may supply the original of this much discussed quotation. In his eleventh fragment occur the words,

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musical note, and voice. A voice is the sound produced by the organs of respiration, as in man. If the sound is produced mechanically by the friction of external parts of the body, it is called a note when musical, a noise when unm sical. The Orthoptera (crickets, &c.), possess the power of expressing sound only in the form of musical note, as in the case of the male grasshopper. Among Coleoptera (the beetle class), we find both a note and a voice. Among Dip tera (flies and gnats) the voice is quite common, especially with the smaller flies and midges; but is often inawpreciable to the human ear in conex-sequence of its high pitch. Among Lepidoptera (butterflies and moths) the musical note is rarely found. Academy.

"Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before,
Advanced a stage or two upon that road
Which you must travel, in the steps they trod."

In Ben Jonson's epitaph on Sir John Roe (see Dodd's Epigrammatists p. 190) occurs the pression

"Thou art but gone before. Whither the world must follow;" and Cumberland's version of Antiphanes is quoted there in illustration. I submit that the original may have been the source of our phrase. JAMES DAVIES, M. A.

"O stanch thy bootlesse teares,
thy weeping is in vaine;

I am not lost, but we in heaven
shall one day meet againe."

Roxburghe Ballads, i. 188, "The Bride's Buriall."
Notes and Queries.

C. P. J.

THE MUSIC OF INSECTS. - In the Proceedings of the Natural History Society of Rhenish Prussia and Westphalia (26ter Jahrgang, 2tte Halfte) is an interesting article on this subject by Dr. Landois. He divides the various sounds emitted

THE New York Technologist, a new mags zine especially devoted to engineering, manufac turing, and building, published in New York, describes a new contrivance for preventing paple looking into a room, while light is not excluded. It consists of a number of glass rods arranged either vertically or horizontally, and secured together by appropriate frames, forming a series of cylindrical lenses which break up the light and throw it into every part of the room, thus producing a soft and diffused glow which is very beautiful and pleasant. The glass rods may be of any colour, and by an arrangement of the colours very beautiful effects can be produced. The contrivance is the invention of Mr. Demuth.

CHAPTER XIII.

JOSIAH AT BAY

DURING the time Patience and Dorothy Fox were under Captain Verschoyle's escort driving to the Shoreditch Station, Grace Hanbury was anxiously waiting for them.

A slight accident bad detained the Fryston train for more than an hour on the road, so that Grace did not reach London till after her mother and sister were due at Paddington.

Fearing if she then went on, they might cross each other, she remained where she was, in a state of great anxiety and trepidation; doubtful as to what they would do whether come on or wait; and knowing her mother in any case would be nervous at not seeing her.

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The hour she had allowed for their drive from Paddington had passed, and she was standing on the steps irresolute as to the expediency of taking a cab and starting off in search of them; when, to her unbounded relief, they drove up.

** Oh, mother! I am so delighted to see you," she exclaimed. "I have been so fidgeted about you both. Dorothy, my dear, give me your bag. I started from Fryston so as to have more than an hour to spare; but the engine of our train broke down, and I was detained on the road for nearly two hours. Of course I was in an agony to know how you would get on, for -looking at Captain Verschoyle-"I feared you were alone."

"

"So we were," said Patience, "but at the station we most fortunately met Charles Verschoyle, and he kindly undertook to see us safely here."

man could be. “Verschoyle! Verschoyle!" she could not remember any Friends of that name; an admirer of Dolly's perhaps; I must ask him to dinner."

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The luggage was soon ready. The train drew up, Captain Verschoyle found them a carriage to themselves, helped them in, looked after all their little comforts, and then waited to see them start. By this time he had quite won Grace's heart; so she said, “I hope you will come down to Fryston and see us. It is only a short journey from London, and we can give you a bed."

Patience was so taken aback at this speech, she hardly knew what to do; and at that moment it was impossible to explain to Grace the slight knowledge they had of the young man whom she mistook for an intimate acquaintance.

Captain Verschoyle saw her confusion: and thinking it perhaps arose from the dif ference in her mind between their positions, he answered

"You are very kind, and I should like to come of all things; but unfortunately I was thinking of leaving town to-morrow.”

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Don't go to-morrow, come to us to-morrow; I want to introduce my husband to you."

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Well, if you don't mind having me tomorrow, I will come with pleasure."

"I am so glad," said a soft voice. It was Dorothy, who, meeting Captain Verschoyle's eyes, blushed crimson. She had not intended to give utterance to her thoughts-only she was so glad he was coming that she might see him again. Twenty times during the last two hours she had wished Josiah Crewdson were like him, not only in appearance, but in knowing "Wilt thou let me introduce thee to my everything you wanted without being told, daughter Grace Hanbury?" she said, turn-and in saying such pleasant things. ing to Captain Verschoyle, who was looking with some astonishment at this elegant woman, fashionably dressed, and very different from the person he had expected to find awaiting them.

Grace held out her hand, saying, "You have done me such good service in taking care of my mother and sister, that we must be friends at once. And now about the luggage: the Fryston train goes in ten minutes, and I think we might save it. If you will stay here, mother, Mr. Verschoyle and I will look after your boxes."

Dorothy need not have been so hard upon poor Josiah; sympathy might have softened her comparisons, for just now it was she who was self-conscious and shy, sitting silent while her mother and Grace talked to their new friend.

Mrs. Hanbury gave him all the necessary instructions about the train be was to come by; and then they had to say "Goodbye," leaving Captain Verschoyle standing, hat in hand, watching their departure.

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"What a handsome man, mother! claimed Grace, as soon as they were out of "Oh!" said Patience, addressing Cap-hearing; "so nice too, and gentlemanly! tain Verschoyle, we must not trespass further on thy goodness."

"You must allow me to see you safely off, Mrs. Fox;" and he followed Grace, who was wondering who this good-looking VOL. XVII. 776

LIVING AGE.

Who is he?"

Patience gave her the history of their acquaintanceship, and Grace was much amused at it, and her own mistake; "for, of course," she said, "I supposed he was a

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"Oh! Grace," cried Dorothy, while all the blood seemed rushing to her face, "why, he is a soldier."

"A soldier! what, one of father's old enemies! Why, you look as horrified, child, as if he were a Mohammedan. Dear me! how father used to lash those unfortunate red coats, until I longed to take up the cudgels in their defence. But I daresay he has changed many of his notions against them since the war; for notwithstanding our prejudices, we Friends would have fared badly but for these sons of Belial,' as Dorcas Horsenail used to term them."

"Ah! thou must not laugh at Dorcas," said Patience; "her peculiarities are few, and her good qualities many. When any of the soldiers come home sick or disabled, Dorcas forgets whose sons she calls them, and makes them her own charge."

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half the charm. Her eyes are lovely, and can't she make them speak too! By Jove! I should think she makes the hearts of all the thee's and thou's in the community palpitate pretty considerably."

Whether in this respect Captain Verschoyle's speculations upon Dorothy's charms were strictly correct, does not appear; but certain it is, that one man seemed to have found out that he had a heart since those brown eyes had met his, - not with the shy coy glances they gave to Charles Verschoyle, but with a fearless open gaze straight into his own.

Josiah Crewdson had been home a week, though it seemed to him a year - a year of long separate days, every hour of which increased the growth of his love for Dorothy Fox. The time which, before he saw her, was willingly devoted to business was now given most grudgingly. He was obliged to make an effort to shut out the bewitching face which tormentingly came "Yes, and you will see, mother," added between him and the long rows of figures Grace, that all these prejudices which he used to run up with such fluency and Friends have held because their grandfath- skill. Alas for poor Josiah! now that he ers held them, will die out; while those knew the pleasure life could give, there principles which they have sifted for them- was no more contentment in the joyless exselves, will continue as long as the sect ex-istence he had formerly known. ists. As for the love of fighting, it is born He had given great offence to his sisters in boys; I believe it is their very nature." by his strict reticence with regard to his "What dost thou think I heard father visit generally, and to Dorothy in particuask cousin Josh when he came to see us ?" lar. The Miss Crewdsons enjoined silence said Dorothy, "If he did not remember as a virtue to be especially practised by at York school how they used to fight the Friends. But it is not in the nature of woboys of other schools, when they called men, even Friends, to be other than specafter them Quack, Quack!'” ially curious regarding those of their sex of whom they have heard much, and seen but little. The beauty of Patience Fox had been acknowledged, and her daughter was said to be more than equal to her in personal favour; therefore, though Josiah would have been severely rebuked bad be dwelt upon Dorothy's fair face, Jemima and Kezia itched to give that rebuke which their brother's taciturnity compelled them to withhold. Josiah answered "Yes" or "No" to any question they put to him, but be volunteered not the slightest information, until Kezia was driven to say that concealment and mystery led to discord among families, and was a thing which their father particularly warned his son against. But the arrow fell aimless in its attempt to loosen. Josiah's tongue.

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"That is splendid-oh! we will hold that as a rod in pickle over him, Dolly."

The rest of the journey was taken up in giving an account of all the west-country Friends, many of whom were known to and connected with Grace.

As Captain Verschoyle drove back to his hotel, he laughed over the adventure. This unlooked-for meeting would detain him in town another day. Perhaps it was almost a pity to have accepted it, as there would be the bother of sending a telegram to his mother. However, it was done, so it was no use regretting; and then he thought "How pretty that girl is! I don't think I have seen another such face since I returned to England. I like her manner too, half shy and childish, and then suddenly becoming most prim and old-fashioned. I wonder at women having anything to do with such plain dress, and peculiar bonnets; and yet I don't know if I should have admired her as much in the flounces and furbelows the girls deck themselves out with now; her very quaintness is

Jemima then tried her hand, and remarked that it was a pity Josiah had gone to see the Foxes in such a spirit, as, by his own showing, had failed to produce a favourable impression upon Dorothy, who was doubtless a woman of discernment.

Then, to their great astonishment, Josiah

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