firmly compressed as from habitual thought. The eye is quick and intelligent, the nose straight and decided, the eyebrows dark and well arched, and the whole face, which seems smaller still than it is from the absence of whiskers, is surmounted by dark and scanty hair, which leaves disclosed the whole depth of an ample and intellectual forehead. Α moment more and you are struck with the proportions, though small, of his frame his erect attitude, his chest expanded. You begin to perceive that a little man need not of necessity be insignificant. There is a presence upon him, a firm compactness of outline, a self-possessed manner, a consciousness of latent strength, that lead you to abandon your unfavourable view of his physical attributes, and to hope much from his moral and intellectual qualities.

He speaks, and for a time your disappointment returns. You have seen him make one step forward to the table, look all round the house, then make a step back again into his old place; then, with the right arm stretched partly out, and his face half turned to his own supporters, he begins. His voice is feeble in quality and monotonous. It is thin, and there is a twang upon it which smacks of aristocratic affectation; it is distinct. He is, perhaps, about to answer some speech, or to attack some measure, of Sir Robert Peel. He goes on in level strain, uttering a few of the most obvious commonplaces of apology or of deprecation, till the idea of mediocrity grows ir resistibly upon your mind. Yet the House seem to listen anxiouslythey would not do so if they did not know their man. Wait a little.

but

A cheer comes from the opposition benches; it bears in it the effeminate laugh of Mr. Ward, the deep bassoon note of Mr. Warburton, the shrill scream of Mr. Sheil, the loud hearty shout of Mr. Wakley, and the delighted chorus of the Anti-Corn-Law Leaguers. Nay, even on the ministerial side, the "point" has not been without its effect, as many a suppressed titter testifies. All the level commonplace, it seems, was but the stringing of the bow; at the moment when least expected, the cool, prepared marksman has shot his arrow of keen and polished sar

casm at Sir Robert Peel, whom it has fleshed, if not transfixed. You follow the speaker a little longer, now fairly interested in him, even though opposed to his opinions, and you find that he has more of those arrows in his quiver.

And then he proceeds, during a speech of perhaps an hour and a half, developing those characteristics of his mind which we have described in detail, now earning approval by his enlarged and statesmanlike views, now lowering himself to the level of the various prejudices of his party, alternately compelling the admiration of his opponents or provoking something like contempt; now rousing his own side to cheers against their opponents, and now stimulating those opponents to laugh at or suspect their own leaders; but always exhibiting power, self-possession, tact, skill, parliamentary and political knowledge, command of language, and felicity of diction, surpassed by but a few of the distinguished men of the day.

Meanwhile you have lost sight of the defects of the speaker-defects of voice, manner, and action, which place him as far below Sir Robert Peel, in the merely mechanical part of oratory, as his occasional elevation of thought and happy choice of language place him in these respects above him. If you had not been thus carried away, you would have been speedily wearied by the drawling monotony of voice, the hesitation in delivery, the constant catching up and repetition of words, and even of portions of sentences; and you would have noticed that the only action used was a constant stepping forwards from the bench to the table and back again, an occasional thumping of the latter with the right hand when not rested permanently on it, a folding of the arms akimbo, or an action peculiar to this orator when he rests his left elbow on his right hand, while the left arm, raised per

pendicularly, is held up as if in warning at his opponents.

As a party leader, Lord John Russell inspires more confidence, and, if the term may be used, regard than Sir Robert Peel. This follows naturally from his greater consistency In submitting to his guidance, men know within some reasonable limit

what they will be expected to do. Lord John Russell leads, Sir Robert Peel drives; Lord John Russell is liked, Sir Robert Peel feared. Between the former and the different sections of Liberals there is usually a pretty good understanding. He does not go far enough for the ultras, but as far as he goes they can go with him. He carries his party along with him in his measures-makes them sharers, as it were, in his councils. Sir Robert Peel chooses to rule alone; he matures his plans and calls on his followers to support them if they choose, or to refuse, he cares not which. Therefore they are usually on doubtful terms with each other. On the other hand, with the whole House collectively, the more commanding and decided character of the premier gives him a more extended influence. Sir Robert Peel has more admirers, Lord John Russell more personal followers.

In the struggle for power Lord John Russell has been entirely outmanœuvred. It turns out that he has been but the pioneer of Sir Robert Peel. He has prepared the public mind for the measures which his rival has passed. The one has borne all the odium of suggesting them, the other has secured the éclat, such as it is, of having carried them. Since the prime-minister has held power, Lord John Russell has been his most useful colleague. That Sir

Robert's new appointments in his ministry are second and third-rate men is not so surprising, when we reflect that his most active and eloquent colleagues are the ex-Whig ministers. Sir Robert Peel's character as a statesman can be judged of because he has office with power. What Lord John Russell would do cannot be known, because although he was in office it was without power. The former has secured the start in the race. He could never before develope his real character, because in the struggle for power he was compelled to hide it. Lord John Russell was in a position to express his wishes and to hint at his policy, but the weakness of his government was such that he could not carry it out.

But, although Lord John Russell has been outwitted at the hustings, he is increasing his influence in the House. It has been shewn that he has some qualities which place him above as a speaker, in some respects, Sir Robert Peel. He has maintained his personal influence with his party, and his style of eloquence is eminently suited to them. It is impossible to say of what importance this personal following may be to him in the event of any great change the aspect of political affairs. Meanwhile, we have dealt with him impartially, and have given him full cre dit for his talents, without reference to party or political considerations.

A NIGHT IN THE CHAMP DE MARS.

EVERY one who was in Paris at the time will remember the fêtes and feastings which took place in that pleasure-loving city on the occasion of the marriage of the late unfortunate Duke of Orleans; nor can the adventurous ever forget, perhaps beyond all the rest, the magnificent display of fire-works exhibited in the Champs de Mars. It is computed that near three millions of people, of every sex; age, and degree, were then collected within its area, which, abutting upon the Seine, is approached from the opposite shore by the Pont de Jena and its neighbouring bridge; neither of them of sufficient magnitude to afford easy ingress or regress to such a torrent of human beings as that by which they were crowded on the evening in question.

But when did the Parisian, on a fête-day, ever calculate chances? It is enough for him to catch folly as it flies,

"Pleased with a feather, tickled by a
39
straw;

and among the mighty mass who thronged onward from sunset until nightfall, the first to secure a good situation for the spectacle, and the last to take up any position into which they could contrive, by dint of physical force, to crush, push, and jostle themselves, it is probable that not one in a hundred troubled him or herself with any speculations as to the safety or comfort of their return.

glorics with which human ingenuity was about to flout their eternal splendour. Although he knew that some time must clapse before the pyrotechnists put forth their science, the young Count had no apprehension of ennui, for the perpetual movement about him, and the ever-shifting groups which it produced, afforded to his quick eye and ready fancy abundant entertainment. The petites bourgeoises with their neat bonnets, somewhat ostentatiously worn-for bonnets in France are, to a certain degree, an aristocratic social distinction, and not in use, as with us, by all ranks-and their gay Scotch'cachemires carefully adjusted à l'envers, to protect them from the night-dews, leaning lightly upon the arm of their husbands; were jostled by smart grisettes, with their shining hair carefully dressed, and covered by the prettiest of all pretty little caps, decorated with pink, or blue, or primrose, or coquelicot ribands, and put on with an air as unapproachable by any other woman than the grisette herself, as though no human fingers had adjusted them; petticoats full and short, revealing feet and ancles faultless in their proportions, and chaussés with a nicety and precision which might awaken the jealousy of a duchess; and a look of gay, careless insouciance which seemed to set Fate at defiance. In attendance on these light-hearted and extraordinary creatures-for the French grisette resembles morally no other race on earth, and is extreme both in her vices and her virtues; in her self-sacrifice for those she loves, and in her careless contempt for all social conventionalisms-were sundry specimens of gallantry almost as eccentric in their way: smart commis in their best attire, with a great display of snow-white linen all washed and ironed by the ready hands of their admiring mistresses; and seedy students from the pays Latin, not only blanchis, but even partially clothed by theirs; and all these personages, young, buoyant, and poor, made the echoes ring with their laughter, thankful for a night's amusement which cost nothing, and well satisfied with themselves, their companions, and all around them. Here and there hobbled a veteran from the Hôtel

Among the curious and adventurous upon the night in question was a young foreign nobleman, who had established his temporary residence in the soi-disant "Capital of Europe;" of handsome person, distinguished appearance, and good fortune, "the world was all before him," and he ments. The feux d' artifice in the was well able to appreciate its enjoyChamps de Mars were a novelty, and as such he determined on seeing them to advantage; and being young and athletic, he soon contrived to secure a convenient situation for his purpose. The night was calm and serene; the wind swept over the bosom of the Seine without disturbing its sluggish ripple; and the stars gemmed the blue vault of heaven, and twinkled merrily, as if in mockery of the transient

des Invalides, with a crippled limb, and a shred of red riband in his button-hole; while at intervals two or three soldiers jostled and pushed themselves through the crowd with more energy than politeness. The most local feature of the crowd, however, were the blouses, that mysterious class of men who come forth, no one knows whence, on every public occasion; and disappear, no one knows where or how, immediately that the opportunity for tumult is over.

From the period when the unfortunate Louis XVI. and his family were persecuted by the people, the blouses have been prominent in every scene of Parisian violence.

It was

It

upon them that the doomed Marie Antoinette looked forth from the window of her gorgeous palace at Versailles, when they held their bivouac, wallowing in the rain-swollen kennels of the court-yard, sleeping the deep sleep of drunkenness, side by side with the most profligate and abandoned of her own sex. was by them that the head and heart of the young and beautiful Princesse de Lamballe were raised on pikes until they touched the casement of her gloomy prison-room in the Temple; they surrounded the instrument of death when her head fell beneath the axe; and they had previously polluted her eyes, and the young pure mind of her infant son, by ribald scrawls even upon the walls of the prison-yard in which she took her hopeless and melancholy walk. The Dames de la Halle were their fitting companions and acccomplices, it is true, but these were tangible agents of wickedness: their haunts were known; they had neighbours who could identify them; they had "a local habitation and a name;" The blouse has none of these. He was busy at the overthrow of the Bastille -(for once worthily engaged!) but, even there, the smear of the blood which he had imbibed at the guillotine was upon his red cap and his blue gaberdine. He was energetic "and ubiquitous at the barricades" during "the three days of July." He was on the spot when the "Infernal Machine" so miraculously exploded. He was near the person of Louis Philippe each time that, by an equal miracle, he escaped the shots fired against him, and gave somewhat nery

life. He forced his way, bon gré, mal gré, through the centre arch of the Arc de Triomphe in the rear of Napoleon's catafelque on the day when the clever " King of the French" taught his subjects the real value of the handful of dust and bones for which they had been so long cavilling; and here he was again in the Champ de Mars, at the mar riage festivities of the Duke of Orleans; not alone, but en cordon, according to his usual style; six, and sometimes more, linked together closely arm in arm, solid as a wedge, and driving before them relentlessly, and as it almost seemed, unconsci ously, all who opposed their passage.

The costume of the blouse is one to which the most rigid city-police cannot rationally object, for it is simply the dress worn by the peasant who drives into the streets his load of

vegetables, hay, or poultry-a red worsted night-cap, and a gaberdine of coarse blue linen; but it is sufficiently distinctive in a Paris mob to enable the worthy brotherhood to exhibit a system of simultaneous action, by no means calculated to seat the civil and military authorities upon velvet.

Such were a few of the materials composing the dense and rapidly increasing crowd which on that fateful night thronged the Champ de Mars; and as the Count felt himself more and more closely wedged into the mighty mass, certain misgivings came across him as to the manner in which he should be able, ultimately, to effect his retreat; but his speculations were suddenly cut short by the roll of a score of drums-nothing can be done in France on a grand scale without an energetic flourish of drumming, and a most miserable business they invariably make of it; and as the noise ceased, a hundred rockets sprang simultaneously into the air, throwing the outline of the vast barrack into

strong relief against the dark sky and lighting the myriad of upturned faces with a preternatural brilliancy. Then commenced the more compli cated features of the display, and every species of pyrotechnic splen dour was exhibited to the delighted spectators. Murmurs of admiration, shouts of applause, with now and then a shriek from some struggling and half-suffocated female, mingled with

ous proof that he bore a charmed the crackling, hissing, and whizzing of

the fire-works; while the constant
movement of the people, induced by
the pressure from behind, rendered
the scene altogether one of the most
extraordinary and bewildering de-
scription.

Throughout the whole
progress
of
the operations, a constant light had
been kept up in one direction or
another; and the spectators became
in consequence so habituated to the
perpetual glare, that when the con-
cluding flight of rockets ascended, and
then fell back in a Danaë-like shower
of many-coloured gold, which for a
brief instant appeared to cover the
whole surface of the sky, they were
startled into sudden terror by the
pitchy blackness of all about them.
The natural consequence ensued; a
general rush was made towards the
only two outlets of the area; the
strong and impetuous forcing before
them the prudent and the weak. In
this frightful predicament the Count
found himself, despite every effort
that he made to escape
the
by getting beyond range of the cur-
rent which was sweeping onward,
screaming, yelling, swearing, and
striking right and left, as they strug-
gled on; occasionally lifted from his
feet, and utterly unable for minutes
together to lift his arms, which were
pinioned closely to his sides. While
the shrieking of women who had been
forced from their protectors; the
oaths of men separated from their
wives, daughters, or mistresses; the
groans and entreaties of the fallen
who were relentlessly, and indeed
unavoidably, trampled by the more
fortunate who still retained their foot-
ing; were rendered more awful by the
density of the darkness, the vicinity
of the river, and the insufficient
means of egress.

pressure

In this dilemma the young foreigner heard himself apostrophised by the sweet, though trembling voice of a woman, immediately behind him, which besought him for the love of Heaven to support her. Unable even to turn his head, he bade her, if she had a hand at liberty, to clasp the collar of his coat, and retain her hold if possible; adding that he could do no more than this, being utterly helpless from his position. It was some time before the supplicant could avail herself of the permission; but a sudden movement near her, enabled her to grasp his arm, and ultimately to

do as he had suggested; an arrangement so harassing and painful as the crowd swayed to and fro, that there were moments in which he felt almost tempted to shake her from her hold.

"Maman! Maman!" whispered in an accent of anguish which went to his heart even in that instant of personal peril, was the only word she uttered as she clung frantically to him; but it awakened all his sympathies, for it betrayed that she was young as well as helpless; and he still toiled on with his terrified burden, until having been swept forward to the outlet of the area, he found himself borne onward for a moment without any volition or movement of his own, and then flung violently down a declivity, with the unknown still hanging to his neck. The shock was so violent that he became unconscious, but not before he was aware that his protégée had already fainted upon his breast; and he had barely time to turn upon his side, and to remove her from her hazardous position, still, however, retaining her desperate hold; and to extend his arms over her to shield her in some degree from possible injury, when the weight of another body falling upon himself produced the insensibility which his humane exertions had for a moment delayed.

Daylight was glimmering in the east when the Count was awakened from his deep faint by a sharp spasm of pain; and looking up instinctively, he saw two men leaning over him, one of whom held a lantern, while the other had just disturbed him in order to search his breastpocket, into which he had introduced his hand when its owner recovered consciousness. He, however, met with no interference in his survey, overpowered by a sickening sensafor the young man was so utterly tion of acute suffering that he felt careless of all else; but he could not, thing like gratification when he heard nevertheless, fail to experience somethe individual above him deliberately read from a card, which he had extracted from its case, his name and address, adding some comments upon his appearance and the contents of his pocket, which were followed up by a remark that they had better go no farther until they had taken the gentleman home to his hotel, and could report his safety.

As they came to this conclusion,