the musical low murmur, moreover, of the stream of eloquence with which I was favoured, obliging me to place my ear as close as politeness permitted to the sweet lips through which it welled, my upright legs and sharply inclined body formed two sides of an irregular square, of which the salient angle was towards the door leading from the magasin. The reader will now have realised my position vis-à-vis the amiable Clémence and the door opening into the shop, when uttering the interrogative exclamation of' Plait-il ? ' 'True,' resumed the damsel, in continuation rather than reply true, you have a right to be surprised that one so inferior in position and other social advantages, should have forestalled you in the affections of one whom a combination of romantic circumstances has invested, in your partial eyes, with imaginary charms; but in excuse, remember, dear William, how true, how devoted he was to me when I was in reality but little better than a poor ouvrière, with no prospect beyond Ha! Ciel!'

Simultaneous, and mingling with the young lady's abrupt exclamation, was a sudden rush of feet, furious cries of Scélérat!' Coquin!' 'Sacré Tonnerre!' and the application of the toe of a boot to the seat of my pale-blue pants-the before-mentioned salient angle-so vigorously administered, as to pitch me into the arms of the screaming girl in the most indecorous manner.

My comprehension of it all was as instantaneous as the uproar and assault. I recognised by a flash of thought that it was the 'true,' 'devoted' Jacques Sicard who had 'forestalled' me in the affections, and kicked me into the lap of a damsel, who, I had been gulled into believing, was pining to death with unrequited love for my precious, booby self. All this, I say, with the correlatives, rushed in a moment with my flaming blood to the tips of my ears and fingers, and I sprang round with the rage and yell of a tiger.

The white wrath, under such circumstances, of an athletic young man, must have had a somewhat terrifying aspect; certainly it at once took the bounce out of Master Sicard, who was, I saw, accompanied by a 'National' officer, with whom I had a slight speaking acquaintance. The bootmaker leaped backwards with a cry of alarm, and whipping out his sword, poked at, whilst he dodged me round a table. I had no weapon, not even a stick, nothing but my bare hands, with which I could not reach him; no missile, but the brass lamp, was available, and seizing that, I hurled it, after one whirl round my own head, with all the strength that rage supplied, at Sicard's cranium. The fellow turned away his face avoidingly, and the blow, which must else have descended upon his brow or temple, struck the back part of his skull, and he fell upon the floor as if struck down by a pole-axe.

A torrent of blood gushed from the wound, and I thought I had killed the unfortunate bootmaker. So did Clémence, whose agonising grief as she clasped the insensible Jacques in her arms, and called upon all the saints in heaven to save him, was decisive of the hold he had obtained upon her heart; and although I had not felt, did not feel, the slightest love, in its conventional meaning, for the girl, I could at that moment have torn him to pieces-so fierce, so demonlike, under certain conditions, is outraged personal vanity.

'Monsieur cannot go away for the present,' said my acquaintance, the officer of the national guard, mistaking a movement of irritability excited by the girl's wild ravings.

'I have no desire to go away,' I replied. "The insolent fool, as you cannot but bear witness, brought the misfortune upon himself.'

'I do not say the contrary,' said the officer. Still, monsieur, justice must take legal cognizance of the affair before you can be free to depart.'

"That is but reasonable,' I said; and seating myself, I moodily awaited the termination of the unfortunate business.

The shopwomen had run in with lights, lifted Sicard from the floor, placed him upon the canapé, and sent off immediately for a surgeon. The coming of that gentleman was not long delayed; and after carefully examining and probing the wound, he exclaimed:

'Reassure yourselves, my friends; the wound is nothing-that is to say, it is not in the least dangerous. Maître Sicard is only stunned, and will be well as ever to-morrow, I answer for it.'

This was an immense relief to me-infinitely more so to Clémence, as her rapturous sobs abundantly testified. Upon my word,' thought I, 'the favour that magnanimous damsel proposed conferring upon me to-morrow morning-her hand, whilst her heart was that blustering bootmaker's-was a highly flattering one. By But swearing is of no

use. Yet that ever Mrs Waller's daughter should be enamoured of a vulgar cordwainer! Still, what can be said? It is proverbial that misfortune brings strange bedfellows together.'

'There is nothing, then, to detain me here any longer,' said I.

'Nothing whatever, monsieur, that I am aware of,' replied the surgeon.

'Maître Sicard,' observed the officer, who left the house with me, 'is a really good fellow at bottom, but at the same time, it must be admitted, rash in temper, which has also been unusually tried this evening. He had already crossed swords with your relative, Monsieur Jacques Le Gros, before leaving the Hôtel de l'Empire.'

'Indeed! Pray, how happened that?'

"They had a dispute at the table d'hôte, and Sicard, who had been drinking freely, insulted and challenged your uncle. Bah! It was over in a twinkling. Monsieur Le Gros, a lapin, as one can easily see, borrowed my sword, and that of poor Sicard was sent flying out of his hand the instant the blades touched each other. Your relative,' added the officer, has, it must be confessed, a tongue which stabs like a poniard, and I was not surprised at poor Sicard's rage at finding himself not only so easily disarmed, but mocked at over the market.'

'He should bear himself more discreetly, if he would avoid such hazards.'

'It is true. Cupid, at all events, favours him, if Mars does not. The sentiments of Mademoiselle Clémence towards him are no longer doubtful.'

'Possibly. I think my road lies in this direction, does it not?'

"To the Hôtel de l'Empire?—Yes; but the distance is considerable, and I have thoughtlessly brought you out of your way.'

'I do not mind that, now that the rain has ceased. Good-night, monsieur.'

'Au plaisir, Monsieur Jean Le Gros.'

I walked hastily on, but, absorbed in thought, missed the right direction for the second time that evening. Providentially so, a superstitious person would say, for again I caught sight of Fanchette with her strapping woman-companion-and-yes-my eyes did not deceive me, Captain Webbe had joined them! They crossed the street a considerable way ahead, and walked swiftly from me; I followed with eager yet cautious steps; it was, I felt forebodingly, to be a night of strange revelations.

Captain Webbe and his two associates stopped before a respectable cabaret, and presently went in. I crossed to the opposite side for the purpose of reconnoitring before attempting a closer approach. In a few minutes there was a light in one of the rooms on the first floor, into which the three new-comers, as I could see by

their shadows on the blinds, were presently ushered. They took seats close to each other, and were about, I doubted not, to enter upon a conference, at which it was highly desirable I should make one, unseen by the speakers.

It might be managed, I thought; and crossing over, I entered the lower, or, as we should say, the bar-room of the cabaret, and called for a glass of liqueur.

'Can I speak privately with you for a minute?' said I, addressing the garçon, who brought an order for wine and oysters from the party in the first floor. 'Certainly, monsieur,' replied the man readily, though with some surprise. This way, if you please.' The negotiation, marvellously quickened by the transfer of two Napoleons from my purse to that of the garçon's, resulted favourably, and I was placed without loss of time in a dark closet close to the part of the room where he proposed laying the supper; and the partition between being of thin wood-panelling, I could hear pretty distinctly for a time all that passed, subdued as was the tone in which Webbe and his companions conversed.

First, I discovered that Madame de Bonneville had been no further off than Dol all the while, there awaiting in ambush, as it were, the fruition of the plot concocted by her and the privateer captain, with the active connivance of Fanchette. The precise bearing or purpose of that plot was not so easily gathered from the scraps of discourse relating thereto. Madame's sudden arrival at St Malo was, I also found, prompted by a misgiving as to Webbe's fidelity, of which she thought to more thoroughly assure herself by a personal interview before he went away.

'So many promising schemes,' said Louisa Féron, in English-Fanchette having, I supposed, been only partially admitted to the conspirators' confidence So many promising schemes for utilising the bold deed you and I carried through fifteen years ago, have been wrecked almost as soon as launched, that my anxiety-my suspicious anxiety, if you will-for the success of this last one, is quite excusable. It is full time, too, that the business should be brought to a conclusion. The state of my affairs, and of yours too, captain, demand its speedy settlement.'

That settlement a marriage-settlement,' replied Webbe, 'will, I repeat to you for the hundredth time, come off before forty-eight hours have passed away.'

That is everything. If Clémence be once married to young Linwood, I shall have taken hostages of fortune.'

'No doubt of it: and Clémence will be a fortunate girl too. Linwood, though easily led by the nose as asses are, is a trump of a young fellow, as young fellows go.'

He will be rich-that is the main consideration. And, dites-donc, Monsieur le Capitaine,' added the woman in French, what is all that I read in the newspapers of your son, who had slain one Le Moine, being detected in the disguise of an American naval officer at a banquet given at Avranches in honour of Captain Jules Renaudin?'

That is a droll story,' said Webbe, which I will relate to you after we have finished the oysters.'

Their conversation during the consumption of the said oysters referred to matters of no interest to me; and supper done, they removed further off, so that I could only hear what was said when their voices were unusually raised. I knew by the frequent occurrence of the names of Linwood, Le Moine, Harry, and, as I fancied more than once, that of Maria Wilson, that Webbe was relating my adventures, no doubt with his usual ad libitum variations. The narrative greatly amused his auditors, and the entente cordiale appeared to be re-established between the mutually mistrustful confederates.

Webbe rose to go, and then madame, who intended

sleeping at the cabaret and returning to Dol on the following morning, said with absolute tone and emphasis:

'Remember, Captain Webbe, that I will not be juggled with; that you cannot play your own game out successfully without first winning mine. This marriage first, or, by all that is sacred or infernal, I'

'Madame, your suspicions are absurd, childish,' interrupted Webbe. 'Do you suppose I need to be reminded that we are both embarked in the same boat, and must float or founder together?'

'Well, I merely remind you that I will not be fooled, happen what may. And now, before you go, as to’

I did not catch the remainder of the sentence; and at the end of another ten minutes' low-toned dialogue, of which I could hear a confused murmur only, Webbe and Fanchette left the house: I did the same soon afterwards, reaching the Hôtel de l'Empire a few minutes before Webbe.

"THEY MANAGE THESE THINGS BETTER IN FRANCE.'

THIS is almost a proverb, and applicable to many things on this side of the Channel: in none is it more true than in that of the Nail-manufacture.

As long as nails and tacks were made by hammers alone, things were pretty much on an equality. Thousands of anvils resounded night and day in smoky Brummagem, at which men, women, and boys toiled with large hammers, or with small, producing every variety of work, from the tiny twenty penny' and upwards, down to the little 'saddler's tack,' so minute and beautifully finished that it was a real marvel of female handicraft. Now, nearly all this is the work of the steam-engine; and in both countries, the anvil with its clinking sound is, so far as nails are concerned, silent for ever.

It is true that so much of our work here in England is performed with soft wood, in which it makes but little difference which end of the nail goes foremost, that the bits of sheet-iron cut off from the edge of a sheet by machinery, and which have no points, and often no heads, may answer the purpose well enough. Thus, in nailing down the floor of a room to the joists, and in similar rough work, these clumsy nails may answer the purpose; but if it be desired to clench such nails, or to use them in putting together anything of hard wood, or of slender dimensions, it will be found that they are vastly inferior to the old sorts, or to the wire-nails so extensively used on the continent. The great fault of all nails cut by machines from sheet-iron, is this one of extreme brittleness; but it is also greatly against making neat work when the bluntness of the point, if it comes through the timber, breaks away a large splinter of the wood, just as a bullet would do.

The foreign nails, on the contrary, are beautiful specimens of their kind. Being made of bright wire, cut into lengths, pointed, and headed in the same machine, they can be had of any length or thickness desired.

Every one at all accustomed, even as an amateur, like myself, to the workshop, will easily know that the varieties of nail required for different work and different woods are almost endless. Thus, the 'pointes de Paris' may be had of a given thickness, and four or five various lengths: the same wire will be seen as a short stump, or as a long 'brad,' requiring a nice hand to guide it straight to its resting-place. The chief advantage of these 'wire-brads' is, that they hardly ever split even the most difficult sorts of wood. Avoiding altogether the wedge shape of the

No. 198.

OF POPULAR

LITERATURE

MILLINERY FOR THE MILLION. 'WELL, Charles,' said my dear Kate to me the other evening, when our parlour-maid had brought in the tea-tray—well, Charles, I should hope that even you, in spite of your ridiculous ideas on such subjects, will think that going a little too far.'

"Upon my word, my love,' replied I, looking up from my newspaper, 'I really don't know what the "that" is at which, it seems, I ought to be so indignant; and, to say the truth, I would rather not know, for strong emotions, with the thermometer somewhere near eighty degrees, are not to be indulged in with impunity. I am quite disagreeably warm at the very thought of being indignant about anything. Don't tell me there's a good girl-till the weather becomes cooler, and- But since you look so angry, what is

the matter?'

'Matter indeed! That's right, Charles; pretend, as you always do, not to see, and you'll soon find what will be the consequences. There are none so blind as those who won't see, Charles; and that is your case whenever I am in trouble with my servants. I am sure that no woman in the world has more to contend with than I have in that respect; and as you never interfere to support my authority, it is wonderful, as my dear mamma says'

At the mention of 'my dear mamma,' I at once saw the necessity of treating the matter, whatever it might be, seriously. Whenever my wife begins quoting 'dear mamma' in our little domestic differences, I know that she is in earnest; so, adopting a conciliatory tone, I replied:

"If you had been sitting up like a Christian, Charles, instead of lolling on the sofa like a Turk, and dirtying it with your nasty boots, you would have seen better, I daresay; but you must have seen Caroline bring in the tea.'

PRICE 1d.

that I have not the remotest notion of what you mean.'

'Why, what should I mean, but that this is a striking instance of what your dreadfully lax notions must inevitably lead to. Now, you may see that we were right when we said that it would go on from bad to worse, although you laughed at us in your sneering, contemptuous way. We always said how it would end. We always knew that you were in the wrong; and now you may be convinced of it if you will only take the trouble to open your eyes, and not hide yourself behind that horrid newspaper.'

'Why, what can have happened, my dear?' said I, now really anxious to know. 'I hope that nothing'"O no; nothing at all, Charles; only that that creature, Caroline, wears a hoop!'

'Is that all, my love?' said I, quite relieved. 'I certainly did not observe that; and as for my horrid paper, if you had been reading this splendid article about Palm'

'And, pray, what more would you have?' said my wife, remorselessly cutting the premier in two. 'It would be very much better, Charles, if, instead of thinking so much about those stupid politics, you would learn to think a little reasonably on matters which interest us all much more nearly, and have much greater influence on our comfort.'

'I wish, my dear Kate, that you would learn to take trifles like these a little more quietly. We cannot alter them, if we would-of that I am persuaded, and I really don't think we ought to try.'

'Of course not, Charles, let the creatures go on until they dress as fine or finer than their mistresses. Perhaps you, with your horrid liberalism-vulgarity, dear mamma calls it-would like to see your servants dressed out in the latest fashion, while your wife looks like a provincial dowdy. But I won't permit it. Dear mamma says, that when she began housekeeping such things would not have been tolerated for a moment. Caroline, I am determined, shall go this day month, for I will no longer be subject to such humiliation in my own house.'

ance.

work.'

'It has very much to do with it, my dear. Parlourmaids didn't follow the fashions fifty years ago, and now they do. That is a fact which none can deny; and it is a phenomenon which undoubtedly marks a very considerable change in the social conditions affecting large masses of the people. In this view of the matter, then, the change, whether we like it or not, ought to be looked at in a philosophical spirit, and not summarily condemned, as if the cause of it and the thing itself were wholly evil. A little rational inquiry won't be thrown away on the subject, take my word for it.'

'I am sure, Charles, I always endeavour to do my duty by my servants, and to make them happy and comfortable, and no one can say with truth that I am a harsh mistress. But, as dear mamma said only the last time she was here, this kind of thing I neither can nor ought to put up with.'

'Who denies, Kate, that you are a kind mistress? I am sure I should be the last to do so; but, I must say, that on the subject of servants' dress, you are often, like most ladies, both unjust and unreasonable. How is it that you can't see that it is most unwise to attempt enforcing the discipline of your mother's youthful days upon the domestics of our own? If my good mother-in-law had to deal with young women instead of with those veterans, Jane and "Old Hannah," who have lived with her these five-and-twenty years, she would soon find how impossible it would be to carry out her ideas. The ideas of the maids having undergone a great change in the matter of dress, the ideas of the mistresses must adapt themselves somewhat to the new state of things, or perpetual changes and collisions will be the result. This anti-stiffpetticoat feeling of yours is pure Toryism, an unphilosophical reluctance to marcher avec le siècle.'

For goodness' sake, Charles, don't give me any scraps of French. Your accent, you know, is not good; and if there is one thing I detest beyond all others, it is to hear a man eking out his poverty of words with the odds and ends of another language. In spite of your philosophy, I still say that servants ought not to dress as they do. To see a girl like Caroline, with a tray in her hand, and her skirt sticking out like a balloon, is utterly absurd and very improper-very improper indeed.'

'But you know the old saying, my dear Kate: "What can't be cured must be endured;" and unless, in these days when everything is made for the million, we can bring ourselves to look calmly on fashionably dressed domestics, we must always expect to be in hot water. As for the humiliation you were talking about just now, if you mean that you will be eclipsed by your servants, I don't think you need feel much alarm on that score. I will not be so rude as to say that you ever appear absurd, but I do say that, although you have no tea-tray in your hands, your dress sticks out like a very large balloon indeed.'

'How can you talk so, Charles? Why, the last dress I had made, that French foulard you admire so, had only nine breadths in it, and'

'I don't care how many breadths it had, my love. I only know that the bill tells me that you cram as much material into one dress as would have sufficed to clothe your paternal and maternal grandmothers both together, and have made your two grandfathers a waistcoat apiece into the bargain. While, as to crinoline and things of that nature, there is no end to them.'

'I am sure,' said Kate, quite in a miff, 'you cannot call me extravagant. I only have my dresses made in the fashion, and surely you would not have me look particular.'

'I would have you continue to do, my love, what you have always done-that is, please yourself. I would have you remember, however, that poor

Caroline, the “creature,” and her class, are women like yourself; that they, too, have the love of dress, so strong in your sex; and that so long as they only spend the wages they fairly earn, you have no more right to despise them and call them "creatures," than they have to despise you and your mamma for studying as you do the Magasin des Modes.'

'But, Charles, you surely don't mean to compare Caroline's station with mine? Things which are harmless in my station of life, may be very unbecoming in hers.'

'A sensible remark, Kate, but it won't do to construe that principle too strictly-an error of which I think you are guilty. Now, when you call Caroline a "creature," you don't say whether you think that the wrong she has done consists in the desire she has to stick her petticoats out with that strange machine of wadding and tape, or whether it lies in her doing so in your august presence. Which is it?'

'Don't sneer, Charles. It is a bad habit you have, particularly when you know you are wrong. I mean, of course, that a creature like that has no business to wear it.'

'Just so, my love. Another cup of tea, if you please. Our little dispute has made my throat quite dry, I declare. Just so. You say that she has no business to wear a hoop. But why? Unless we are a little more precise, we may talk till midnight without getting any further.'

'Well, then, Charles, since I must be so very careful of my words, I say that such things are ridiculous for one in her station of life.'

'I see, my love,' said I, 'that you know how to make use of the ladies' favourite argument, that a thing is because it is; but answer me this: do you mean to imply some moral turpitude on the part of Caroline, when you call her a "creature;" or do you mean to imply merely that her crime consists in wearing a hoop in your augu– Ahem! before her mistress?'

'Why, Charles, how absurd you are. I mean of course that she ought to be ashamed of herself to come into the drawing-room with that thing on; and I also mean, as dear mamma says, that for girls in her rank of life to fill their heads with such things is perfectly ridiculous.'

'And why, pray, is a love of dress more ridiculous in them than in you? I fear, Kate, that you ladies want to keep all the finery to yourselves, and that a feeling of jealousy is at the bottom of your hostility to smart maid-servants. Ducks of collars, loves of bonnets, darling mantles, sweet little caps, gay dresses, and bright ribbons, you would monopolise as luxuries to be enjoyed by your class only; and if you could, you would even forbid those beneath you to admire these things, much more to wear them. But what, I ask you, is there in domestic service which should so change a woman's nature that she should be insensible to dress?'

'A sense of propriety, Charles-of what is becoming in her station, and of what is due to those above her.' 'A sense of fiddlestick, Kate! Your idea of the connection existing between you and your servants appears to be the feudal notion of dependence, whereas that connection is a purely commercial one. Kindly feeling and good offices, not bargained for, are not excluded on either side-God forbid that they ever should be; but L. s. d. is your bond of union; and unless at the hiring you stipulate for a particular style of dress, paying accordingly, you cannot reasonably expect that, out of mere awe of our aug—that is, of us-our servants should forego their own tastes and inclinations.'

'I'm sure I don't know, Charles. Why should not women dress in a sort of livery like men? I think it would be a very good plan.'