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THE BRAMLEIGHS OF BISHOP'S FOLLY, by CHARLES LEVER.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY
LITTELL & GAY, BOSTON.
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47 DEATH OF PROF. MATEUCCI,
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HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE REIGN OF GEORGE II. These very interesting and valuable sketches of Queen Caroline, Sir Robert Walpole, Lord Chesterfield, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, Pope, and other celebrated characters of the time of George II., several of which have already appeared in the LIVING AGE, reprinted from Blackwood's Magazine, will be issued from this office, in book form, as soon as completed. A HOUSE OF CARDS.
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a garden-place I found,
With faces bent and amorous ; —
Alone she walked, -ah, well I wis,
Then when I called to her her name, The name, that like a pleasant thing Men's lips remember, - murmuring, At once across the sward she came, Full fain she seemed, my own dear maid, And asked ever as she came,
"Where hast thou stayed?"
"Where hast thou stayed?"—she asked as tho' The long years were an hour ago;
But I spake not, nor answered,
And in her clear cheek's changeless red,
That in this place the Hours were dead,
"No formless Future blurs the sky; Men mourn not here, with dull dead eye, By shrouded shapes of Yesterday;
Betwixt the Coming and the Past
At "Heaver" she ceased, and lifted up
With rounded mouth, and eyes aglow; Then set I lips to hers, and felt, Ah, God, the hard pain fade and melt,
And past things change to painted show; The sweet, clear quiring of the birds outbroke ; The lit leaves laughed, -sky shook, and lo, I swooned, and woke.
And now, O Flowers,
-Ye that indeed are dead,
That, without dim distress
Out from my pain a pillow, and to take
M. MAGNE, French Minister of Finance, reports to the Emperor that the subscriptions to the loan of 18,000,000l. amounted to 600,000,0007., or 34 times as much. No less than 781,292 persons sent in applications, and the cash deposit amounted to 26,000,000l., being an average of 331. for each applicant. M. Magne draws from these facts the conclusion that the confidence of
the public in the credit of the State does not find its true and definitive expression in the price of the Funds, a remark intended to soothe a wellknown sore in his Majesty's mind that he cannot get Rente up to its level under Louis Philippe, far less up to its English level. Great efforts are made to reduce the importance of M. Magne's figures, but after all reductions the fact remains that France has much money very widely diffused. Are there 800,000 persons in England who could either be taught how to apply for a loan or find a deposit of 301. apiece? Spectator, 22 Aug.
AMONG the Reports on the Paris Exhibition is a chapter on a new system of shoeing horses. Its inventor, M. Charlier, contends that the present shoe destroys the horse's foot, and substitutes for it an iron band, let into a rectangular groove scooped from the outer circle of the horse's foot. This band is fastened with seven rectangular nails, driven into oval holes. The sole of the foot and the frog are thus allowed to touch the ground, the horse never slips, and never gets diseases of the foot. The new shoe has been tried by M. Lauguet, a large jobmaster in Paris, and has reduced lameness in his stables by two-thirds. The Omnibus Company, moreover, have shod 1,200 horses, and speak of the improvement in high terms. Has anybody ever clearly explained why a horse can travel without shoes all his life on a stony desert as hard as iron, and cannot travel on an English road? Spectator, 22 Aug.
HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE REIGN | disappointed, injured, high-spirited wife,
OF GEORGE II.
sometimes in open, sometime in tacit rebellion, and an unfaithful, exacting husband, weak, but tyrannical, wicked, yet religious as princes sometimes are permitted to be. Strangely enough, though Queen Clementina, as she was called, would seem to have been of a higher and stronger character than her husband, there is no reference to her in any of her son's letters, and little in the contemporary records. James, whatever his sins were, and they were many, seems to have kept, at least, the affection of his children. But it is impossible to imagine a worse atmosphere for the growth
NO. VI. THE YOUNG CHEVALIER.
THERE are some landscapes in the world, in which foreign memories, alien to the place, and in some cases less touching and momentous than the natural local associations, thrust themselves in, and obscure to the spectator at once the nationality and individual character of the spot. The English traveller, when he climbs the height of Tusculum, has a scene before him full of the grandest memories of a past which is the common inheritance of the whole civilised world. His boyish lessons, his youth-of young lives. The melancholy dispos
ful studies, if they have done anything for sessed Family was surrounded by a little him, have qualified him to identify every coterie of a court a community which, hillock, and hear a far-off voice out of every under the best of circumstances, has much tomb. Or if it is not old but modern Rome of the pettiness, personal squabbles, ruthat charms him, there are a hundred lights mours, and gossip of a village, embittered on that Campagna, a thousand influences of and set on edge in this case by the fact sound and sense about, enough to move the that its members were discontented and least imaginative soul; Rome lying distant broken men, whose hopes and hearts were on the great plain; and the dome that elsewhere, and to whom intrigue and conBuonarotti hung between earth and heaven spiracy were daily bread. Plots and counstanding out the one thing visible, full of ter-plots of all kinds went on in the unquiet suggestions of the treasures lying under household. Every day a gloomy train atand about it, are sufficient to overbrim tended the mimic king across the Piazza to the eager brain. How is it that, as we the Church of the Holy Apostles, where he stand upon the wistful plateau with that went to pay his devotions. Meddlers of great scene before us, Rome and her mem- all kinds, ruined soldiers, broken-down ories fade from our eyes? Shrivelling statesmen, shifty priests, surrounded the like a parched scroll," the plain rolls up boys thus growing up to an inheritance of and passes away. The Highland hills all false hopes and idle greatness. The bells black with storms, the lonely, desolate, of the Santi Apostoli, and many a church northern seas, the wild moors and moun- beside, kept ringing in their young ears tain-passes, rise up a sad phantasmagoria with unbroken monotony; the flat ceremoover the grey olives and clustering vines. nials of the priestly court, of which they It is the wild pibroch that rings in our were half-dependents, mocked the exiles. ears, it is the heather that rustles below Now and then they gave a concert at their our feet, and the chill of the north that palace, to which the wandering English breathes into our faces. Why? Because cubs, with their "governors," of whom yonder in the Duomo a line of inscription Lord Chesterfield and Lady Mary Wortley has caught the traveller's eye, obliterating give so uncomfortable a description, came Frascati and Rome, and all Italian thoughts: in crowds to stare at the handsome gallant "Karolus Odoardus, Filius Jacobi." These lad, condescending to play for their amuseare the words, and there lies the high ment, who was, so far as blood and herediheart mouldered into dust, which once beat tary right went, the undoubted heir of Engagainst the breast of the Young Chevalier! land; sometimes they rushed forth across the Campagna to cheat their inactivity with the commotion of a hunting-party-poor copy of the stir of life. And this while out in the world cannons were roaring, battles
It was in Rome that the life of Charles Stuart began, as it ended, in exile, in an unhappy distracted household, torn asunder by domestic dissensions, divided between a
It was on a night in January 1744-the 9th-that the young Chevalier set forth on one of the most extraordinary, splendid, and hopeless expeditions ever recorded in history. "A little after midnight," a heavy coach, followed by a groom leading another horse, rattled through the stony Roman streets to the Lateran Gate. The keys had been left over night with the captain of the
fighting. Young William of Cumberland, | futile old Pretender-and yet with a heart as yet unmarked by his terrible nickname, to be wrung for his boy, like other men. was getting himself glory at Dettingen at the head of those English who were not his countrymen, that he should have the credit of them. It requires little imagination to conceive how this contrast must have rankled in the high, courageous, adventurous soul of the young Stuart, rightful leader of these Englishmen, who, but for the folly of his fathers, might have been at their head instead of the Hanoverian. He was five-guard, that no hindrance might be given to and-twenty, and had been, no doubt, for the Prince's hunting-party, on which his years consuming his heart in the tedious eagerness carried him forth so early. Genbustle of the ecclesiastical capital. All his tle Prince Henry, he who was afterwards biographers echo the general note of won- Cardinal York, was left behind asleep, and, der how a prince, trained under the soft knowing nothing, set out leisurely in the Italian skies, amid the supposed effeminacy morning to meet the fiery young Nimrod of Italian customs, could have been fit for who had preceded him, little thinking on the hardships of his after-life. But Charles, what wild chase it was that his elder brother it is evident, had been trained, by such ex- had gone forth. The chaise and the faithperience as that elimate and those customs ful groom behind went on, across the wintry give, to bear heat and cold, the two great Campagna in the deep darkness, till they extremes, and had taken pains to inure came to the stony causeway, everlasting like himself to long walks and scant fare, as a all old Roman work, which ascends the Alhunter among the hills would naturally do: ban hill. There, under some pretext, the At last, in the depths of winter in the year young Adventurer left his companion in the 1744, the long-expected call came to the coach and mounted his horse. The story eager young man. France, with plans of goes on to tell how he stood still "at the her own in her mind, had suddenly be- turning," alone with his faithful Norman thought herself of the Stuarts, by way, not groom, until the heavy coach, with Dunbar necessarily of restoring them, but of occu-in it, who for his part pretended to know pying the attention of England with her nothing, lumbered on upon the resounding own affairs, and making her recall not the road towards the hunting-tryst. When troops only, but money, with which an ob- the carriage was gone, Charles Edward sequious Ministry enabled King George to turned his horse's head the other way, and, subsidise all the world. The summons was facing towards Frascati, towards Florence, secret and sudden, known only to the father and Paris and England, "gave his bridleand son and their most intimate counsel- reins a shake," and escaped into the world. lors. Out of the brief overwhelming excitement of that moment a few words come to us full of natural feeling. "I trust, by the aid of God," said the youth, trembling with hope and eagerness, as he set out on his enterprise, to the old man who had gone through that phase and left his hopes behind him ages ago in the cold blank of the past, "that I shall soon be able to lay three crowns at your Majesty's feet." The father answers tenderly, out of his life-in-death, "Be careful of yourself, my dear boy. I would not lose you for all the crowns in the world," he says, with, one can imagine, what smile and what sigh! Weak, feeble,
When this romantic incident occurred, the artificial world held on its babbling course at home as if there had been no such startling primitive chances in existence. The armies and commanders of England were on the Continent fighting for other contested successions, and hiring German troops to aid their arms. The Ministers in London were busy making treaties and granting subsidies, struggling to please King George, whose heart was rather that of an Elector of Hanover than of a King of England. The world of fashion fluttered and amused itself as one reads in Horace Walpole's letters, its Tories pretending to