who lacked the necessary experience of elective | talk of politics, they naturally figure to theminstitutions; above all, in his having at his command much larger sums of money than they, and in his using them judiciously. No practical man, looking at the facts calmly, can doubt but he cheated the French into electing him. selves that they are conspirators. Like people ciencies. Their political timidity sought some one to trust in, some pillar of strength to lean against. That pillar, the merest child could see was not to be found in the Parliamentary leaders of the Republic, who converted the Chambers into a debating society, and made their jokes, and their quips, and their fine points, and their mouvements oratoires, as though elocution was the sum and end of government, and as if France was not on the verge of ruin. But the pillar might be in the President, who, on more than one occasion, had given evidence of mind, and firmness, and courage. But from the hour of his election all was changed. No doubt, again, he coveted a throne. Within the memory of man there has been but one Washington; and had he been a French--as a people they were conscious of their defiman in 1850, with no New England to keep him in check, it is not safe to say how even he might have acted. But the honest student of these times must admit, that, from the installation of Prince Louis Napoleon as President, he was placed in a dilemma between sacrificing France and himself, or making himself autocrat. Schoolboys may declaim about the immorality of breaking an oath; but every statesman, every man of the world knows that official oaths are mere formalities, which have never, never can stand in the way of political movements. The blood that was shed at the coup d'état is supposed by certain English and republican writers to lie heavy on the Emperor's conscience. We are not inclined to think that it troubles him much. In a state of war, a few lives more or less matter very little. Practically, the "massacres," as they have been called, committed in Louis Napoleon's interest, were perhaps a blessing. The writer of these lines has had some opportunity of forming a judgment on the people of Paris and the people of France. Had he been a citizen of that country, he would have voted for Louis Napoleon and the Empire; and he believes that there was far less fraud in the record of the large vote in favor of the Empire than is generally supposed. In the preliminaries of the elections we can undoubtedly trace the hand of the Emperor, securing the favor of the soldiery by means familiar to the Cæsars; taking good care that fraud should not be wanting if fraud were needed to secure a favorable return in this or that constituency; scattering gold (English gold?) wherever that was required; and like a prudent man, unfettered by principle, leaving no door open for failure to creep in. The moralist may He succeeded, of course. dilate upon the enormity of the collateral and incidental offenses committed on the occasion. But the practical man, comparing the France of 1857 with the France of 1847, 1827, 1807, or 1787, can hardly fail to congratulate the nation on the perpetration of these offenses. The Credit Mobilier will break; other stock compa banks may suspend; much trouble must befall the rich; but after all, when all this shall have taken place, and the worst shall have passed, imperial France of our day will still be a more prosperous, happier, and better country to live in than any France of which history makes mention. OUR COUSIN FROM TOWN. Almost without exception the French Republicans were unfit for the practical business of government. Cavaignac and Marrast-unques-nies will break; the railways may break; the tionably the best among them-were honest men, with a well-defined purpose, and no lack of energy; but neither the one nor the other possessed administrative capacity; neither possessed that essential quality in a ruler-the tact to apprehend the public desires and gratify them. As for the other men whom the revolutionary wave brought to the surface, as statesmen they were beneath contempt, and the people knew it. They were talkers, writers, poets, reverie-makers, philosophists; but the Postmaster or the Collector of this city knows far more about the practical work of government than they. Furthermore-had the Republican leaders possessed intuitively that political knowledge which they had had no opportunity of gaining by experience, they would still have lacked an essential element for the formation of free political society, namely, free local in-writing, and its neatly sealed and faintly perstitutions. For more than a century no free village or city corporations have existed in France; the people have entirely lost the habit of acting in concert, and carrying out independent political schemes; when they begin to “How OW tiresome-how extremely disagreeable!" complained my brother Arthur, as he tossed on the table Miss Ponsonby's note, containing her acceptance of my father's invitation to her to come and spend a few weeks with his family in their quiet country home. We all looked spitefully enough at the innocent little sheet of paper, with its delicate hand fumed envelope. We were a family of rough, unpolished, motherless boys and girls. We girls, indeed, were even less civilized than our brothers; for while we had run wild under the quasi control of a weak-minded governess, whom we entirely ruled, they had been duly sent to a public school, where some degree of discipline had been flogged and knocked into them by their tutors and school-fellows. Arthur, especially, the eldest, the cleverest, the handsomest, and the dearest, was just returned from his first term at Cambridge, and we were all proud of ⚫ his improvement in appearance, and charmed by his gentlemanlike courtesy and ease of manner, though we scarcely understood it. We only knew he was very different to Hugh and Stephen, and that already those wild, reckless fellows were becoming a thought less wild, under the influence of their elder brother's precept and example. But even Arthur disliked the idea of Miss Ponsonby's visit, and we, sanctioned by his opinion, scrupled not to express our feelings unreservedly. "A regular bore-a nuisance !" cried Hugh, savagely cutting away at the stick he was carving, and sending the chips right and left as he did so; "what on earth are we to do with a fine London lady?" "We shall have to be proper and 'lady-like,' as Miss Fisher says," said Lydia, in dismay"and how-? oh! there, now, Hugh, one of your abominable chips has flown into my eye. You've no business to hack away at that stick in the drawing-room. Arthur, has he?-I'll slap your face if you make faces at me, Sir." This last, of course, to Hugh, who was too vividly expressing his feelings by contortions of his features. Arthur, as usual, had to exert his influence to prevent a quarrel, and when that was achieved we began to grumble again. "We were going to have such fun!" sighed I, "now Arthur is here, and all. We should have been so happy this autumn. Bother!" "I'll tell you what we'll do!" exclaimed Stephen, in sudden glee, “we'll sicken her of being here. We'll send her off of her own accord the second day. We'll make the place too hot to hold her, and she'll beat a retreat." "Hurrah!" cried Hugh, "I'll do my part. I'll take her through bramble-bushes that shall tear her smart frocks, and spoil her grand fashionable bonnets. I'll let her accidentally slip into ditches which shall ruin her satin shoes, and frighten her out of her fine-ladyish senses besides. Oh, I promise, I'll lead her a pretty life while she is here." "Hush, boys!" remonstrated Arthur, looking up from his book, "you must remember this lady is to be our guest, and has claim to all courtesy and consideration from us. It's no use to talk in that wild way. We are gentlemen-don't forget that." This final argument was always irresistible to the two boys, rude and savage as they seemed. With Lydia and myself he employed other reasoning. "Though we don't like this visitor, girls," said he," we are not such Goths as to let her see it. You will, of course, jointly do the honors, and I have no doubt you will acquit yourselves admirably. For," added he, seeing we still looked somewhat dubious, "I should not like my sisters to be laughed at by our London cousin. I should not like her to think that you do not know how to behave with propriety in your father's house." This speech had its due effect, and we prepared to receive our visitor, if not with heartfelt cordiality, at least with a decent show of it. Nevertheless, the arrival of the day which was to bring her among us was dreaded as an actual calamity. On that day, however, Lydia and I attired ourselves with unusual care. We had so much regard for appearances, that we did not wish to be looked upon as absolute slatterns by our cousin from town. So Lydia mended the rent in her skirt, which had yawned there for the last three weeks, and I condescended to pin a fresh tucker round my neck, and a pair of not more than half-dirty cuffs on my wrists. Miss Fisher, our meek and much tyrannizedover governess, was sitting in the drawing-room, which she had, with considerable labor, cleared from the litter that usually strewed its floor, its tables, and chairs. Lydia's drawings and my music were neatly disposed on separate shelves, and as many books as our rough usage had left presentable, were formally ranged round the card basket on the centre-table, after the ordinary fashion. Often before had poor Miss Fisher made similar orderly arrangements, which we had invariably overturned five minutes after, but on this occasion we suffered them to remain. Hugh and Stephen gathered round Arthur, who was drawing mathematical mysteries at a side table, and Lydia and I, with unnatural demureness, seated ourselves on each side of Miss Fisher. At her earnest request we even submitted to get some needlework. Lydia routed out a halfhemmed pocket-handkerchief from the depths of the workbag, and I applied myself to the intricacies of a knitted collar, which I had been slowly blundering through at rare intervals for some years. Thus were we employed when the roll of wheels on the carriage sweep leading to the house announced the return of our father from the railway station, where he had been to meet our expected guest. Lydia ran to the window and peeped out, heedless of Miss Fisher's imploring appeals to her sense of propriety. still, feeling that I was sixteen years of age, the eldest girl, and about to enact the part of hostess. I sat "Oh!" ejaculated Lydia, in a kind of subdued scream, "what a heap of bandboxes and baskets. One, two, three-oh, there she is. My goodness, what a grand lady! She's coming in-now for it!" And she fled back to her seat just as my father opened the door and led in the young lady. "Caroline, my dear, these are your cousins, Elizabeth and Lydia. Girls, this is your cousin, Caroline Ponsonby. Bid her welcome to Abbott's Grange." And my father, who was a man of few words, I should think, would form her most substantial left us to make acquaintance. Miss Ponsonby was a very stylish young lady indeed. Her silk dress was flounced to her waist, and rustled whenever she moved, and she wore little jingling chains at her waist and on her wrists; her large Cashmere shawl was clasped by a magnificent cameo, and her bonnet was laden with all sorts of fashionable frippery. A mingled odor of otto of roses and musk was faintly perceptible as she entered the room. No wonder Lydia and I, recklessly indifferent as we were to the obligations of the toilet-to whom pomades were unknown, and patchouli, and bouquet de la reine utterly incomprehensible-no wonder we were completely dumbfounded at the apparition of our visitor-long expected and long dreaded as she had been. Miss Ponsonby, however, possessed all that ease and graceful self-possession which is only acquired by habitude to society. She took my hand, and shook it with a cordiality that set all the little chains and lockets at her wrists jingling furiously. Then turning to my brothers: "My cousin Arthur, I presume," said she, smiling" and Hugh-and Stephen? My uncle has been initiating me into the nomenclature of my unknown relations, you see." By this time I had collected myself sufficiently to offer to conduct our guest to her apartment. So I showed the way, followed by the rustling, jingling, perfumed Miss Ponsonby, who, in her turn, was followed by Lydia, grimacing, opening wide her eyes, and elevating her eyebrows, in testimony of her emotions. Arrived at the "best chamber," Miss Ponsonby swept across the room to the window, which commanded an extensive view. repast. Or, Lydia, you will surely have no objection to boil your love-birds for your sweet cousin's delectation. Consider, my dear, the duties of hospitality." "Yes," joined in Arthur, very gravely, "we must all consider that. And it isn't hospitable, Stephen, to make fun of a guest, let me assure you." Arthur's displeasure curbed, though it could not entirely crush, Stephen's sarcasm and Hugh's grumbling. The two boys retired to a remote corner, from whence occasional bursts of laughter issuing, apprised us of the subject of their whispered conversation. Miss Ponsonby made her graceful entrance into the room just as the tea-equipage appeared. Now that her large shawl was removed, we could see how elegantly her dress fitted, how tastefully it was ornamented, and with what care the tiny lace collar and cuffs were suited to the rest of her attire. What a contrast she presented to Lydia and myself as she sat between us at the tea-table! Her hair smooth and silky, while ours hung in disheveled curls about our faces; her hands fair and delicate, and covered with rings, while ours were red and rough as a housemaid's. The thought passed across my mind that the contrast was perhaps not wholly favorable to us; but I would never have dared to give utterance to such an idea. The conversation was neither very general nor very lively, until my father appeared, and then it was entirely confined to him and Miss Ponsonby. They talked of London, the theatres, the exhibitions-of places and of people we knew nothing about; and we felt all the spite of the uninitiated toward the more privileged, accordingly. When tea was over, and my father, after his usual custom, had departed to his study to smoke and read the paper, we all gath "What a magnificent prospect!" said she, with real heartiness, "and how pleasant the country is! You seem to have quite an extensive domain, too, attached to the house. Charm-ered together round one window, leaving our ing!" Having listened to these words Lydia and I, very shyly and awkwardly, took our departure from the room. Once outside the door we rushed back to the drawing-room. "Oh, what a time we have to look forward to!" exclaimed Lydia-"did ever any one see such a finikin, affected, fine lady in this world!" "So very fine," cried Stephen, mimicking her: "My uncle has been initiating me into the nomenclature of my unknown relations.' There's a flow of language for you! We must hunt up our lexicons while our fair cousin abides with us." "Lexicons, indeed!" growled Hugh-"I neither intend to say any thing to her, or to trouble myself to listen to what she says. I only hope she'll like us as little as we like her, and then she won't stay long." "Hadn't you better provide some special diet for our friend?" sneered Stephen, taking up the theme, "surely she will never touch the homely beef and mutton that it is our habit to partake of. Nightingale's eggs stewed with rose-leaves, visitor sitting in solitary state at the table. She, however, soon accommodated herself to her position; fetched a book from a side-table, and immediately, to all appearance, was lost in study. We cast furtive and unkindly glances at her, and communicated our dislike to one another under our breath. Thus things lasted till candles came in; and then Arthur magnanimously set an example of attention to our guest, by asking her if she played and sang? She answered yes, smilingly; and willingly consented to let us hear her. So she rose, and went to the piano, and played a number of brilliant things, which we did not understand, and therefore did not like; and then she sang one or two Italian songs, which made a similar impression on our untutored minds. Lydia and I were resolute in refusing to play after our accomplished cousin; we sat in grim silence, doing nothing, but looking very cross, which we felt, for it was our habit to dance among ourselves in the evening, and we were all wrath with the intruder, who hindered us from our customary enjoyments. Arthur alone made any effort to amuse Miss Ponsonby; he proposed a game at chess, and they played till supper-time, and in the course of their play made great progress in acquaintance. After the young lady had retired for the night, we all gathered round Arthur to know what he thought of her. "Oh!" said he, yawning, "she is a very fine girl, and talks well. Rather too stylish for us quiet folks, perhaps; but still—” "I wonder how long she is arranging her dress of a morning?" speculated Lydia, “and setting her chains and bracelets. Why, it must occupy half the night to take them off. And what with brushing her hair-oh dear!" "Lydia doesn't consider smooth hair compatible with any womanly virtues," laughed Arthur; "and she repudiates brushes and combs." "Oh, I hate vanity!" cried she abruptly, but coloring too. And I noticed thenceforward a gradual improvement in the appearance of Lydia's abundant brown tresses. Possibly the example of our elegant cousin effected some good in both of us. We could not but catch some infection of her neatness and care in dress; moreover, we were all obliged to own she was not illnatured, and was ever willing to assist us with her advice, or even her helping hands, in any matter of costume. This ready kindness was also evinced in other ways. Miss Ponsonby was always pleased to play or sing, to teach us stitches in embroidery, new waltzes on the piano, or new mysteries in crochet. As for her "choice language," I am inclined to think it was accidental, and not a matter of habit with her. We were obliged privately to acknowledge that her fine ladyism after all, resolved into always having clean hands and face, smooth hair, tasteful dress, and quiet manners. Nevertheless, in spite of these concessions, we did not "get on together" very rapidly. We still furtively quizzed her fashionable dresses, and gentle, refined manners. We still thought her good for nothing but to sit still and look pretty, and do fancy work. Except Arthur, who with his usual gentlemanlike feeling paid her the more attention because we were inclined to neglect her-except Arthur, we all eschewed her society whenever we decently could, and still looked upon her presence among us as the "bore," the tiresome, disagreeable necessity we had originally considered it. So two or three weeks passed, and I think it occurred to none of us that our cousin Caroline might have feelings below the surface of her quiet, pleasant bearing, and that there might be more in her than we saw, or chose to see. I believe I was the first, not to make the discovery (I was too obtuse in those days ever to be in danger of such a thing), but to have the fact forced on me. One evening, tea waited; my father was in a hurry, and Miss Ponsonby had not responded to the summons. I was dispatched to her room, which, with my usual gauche precipitance, I entered, without any warn ing given, or permission asked. To my dismay, my cousin was sitting by the window, crying. She looked up at the noise of my sudden approach, and my loud announcement of "Tea!" and colored deeply, more with indignation than shame, I think. I had the grace to mutter some apology, and the feeling, too, to wish to know what grieved her. "Is any thing the matter, cousin ?" said I, timidly. "Pray take no notice," she replied, hastily rising, and beginning to arrange her hair. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting-I did not hear the bell. I will be down stairs immediately." And, simply by looking at me, she forced me from the room. When she appeared in the parlor, she seemed much as usual, though I was able to detect the red mark round her eyes, and the nervous flutter of her fingers-those white, ringed fingers we had so often laughed at, Lydia and I. I felt sorry for her, and ashamed of myself, that, by my own behavior, I had placed such a barrier of indifference between us-that now, when all my romance was interested, my better feelings aroused, and I really desired to draw near to her, I was unable to do so. That evening, after tea, we three girls and Arthur went for a walk through the woods to St. Ann's Pool-that great piece of water whereon our boating in summer and our skating in winter depended. I remember, as Lydia and I walked behind Miss Ponsonby and Arthur, my sister's allusions, in the usual scornful style, to our visitor's silk dress, pretty mantle, and delicate bonnet, did not chime with my mood so harmoniously as usual. I was glad to remember this fact afterward. When we came to the "Pool," which was really a lake, as deep and as broad as most lakes, we two girls, of course, wanted a row. There were two boats always there, and we had soon unlocked the boat-house, and unmoored one of the little "tubs," as Arthur called them. I don't know why Arthur took it into his head to go off with one boat, while we stood on the bank watching him. Some freak of vanity, I have since thought, made him eager to show off his real skill and united grace and strength in rowing, or our cousin to see more advantageously than she would have done when in the boat. looked on, while he rapidly skimmed across to the opposite bank, and then came back. But, half way, something seemed wrong; he drew up his oars-shouted to us— And we "Bring the other boat! there's a leak in this, and she's scuttling! Make haste!" The other boat! In our observance of him we had forgotten the other boat, which, released from its fastening, was quietly floating away, and was already far beyond our reach. Lydia and I shrieked, dismally, "It's gone-it's gone! He'll be drowned! He can't swim!" Where was Miss Ponsonby? She had sprung from the raised platform of the boat-house, and was making her way along the muddy bank, by which the escaped boat was quietly gliding. On she went, and now, being abreast of the boat, she | waded into the water-regardless, oh! shrieking, helpless Lydia! of that pretty dress and mantle-up to her waist, caught hold, climbed in, and had the oars in the water sooner than I can relate it all. But I was roughly aroused to the real state of affairs. Arthur reappeared, and called me to join him in his evening ramble. Glad enough I was to do it, though I could hardly keep up with his impetuous steps. He plunged in medias res, and undeceived me at once. I'm "Lizzy, it's all over; she's refused me. miserable for life. But no matter; she mustn't suffer, she mustn't be distressed; she's an angel, Lizzy!" "No, not if she makes you miserable," said "Hold up!" she cried, then, to Arthur, in the treacherous, fast-sinking "tub." We hardly breathed, I think, till he had hold of the oar | I, promptly, and bitterly, and decisively. she held out to him-and was safe. Then we sat down and cried. As for Arthur and Caroline, when I looked up they were standing close by-Arthur supporting her, for she had hurt herself in the adventure, and was now as pale as if she were going to faint. “Can't you give any help, girls?" cried Arthur, almost angrily. "You see-you seegood Heavens! she is injured-she is terribly injured—” "No, no, no, no!" was all she could say, in a faint voice. Then we saw her arm was bleeding from a great cut. In the midst of my fright I was amazed to see the passionate way in which Arthur pressed his lips to the wound, saying, in a low, fervent voice, "For me-for me! I think I never prized my life before, Caroline!" Yes, I heard-and so did she. The color came into her face again, and she disengaged herself from all our supporting arms, declaring she was quite well-quite ready to walk home. I hardly know how we walked home. Lydia was crying half the time, being thoroughly subdued by fright and agitation. As for me, I looked at my cousin, who, leaning on Arthur's arm, walked feebly in her ruined silk dress, from which we had wrung the water as well as we could. And I sighed with a new consciousness as, ever and anon, I caught some words in Arthur's passionate voice, and then Caroline's low, sweet tones in reply. It was my first glimpse into the Enchanted Land. New and mysterious as it all was to me, I intuitively comprehended, and I moralized within myself, somewhat after this fashion: "Pshaw! it isn't her fault, she never encouraged or thought of such a thing. I know that; I know I'm a fool ever to have allowed myself to think of her; but-but for all that I shall love her as long as I live." 66 "Of course you will," I rejoined, in eager faith, and it is very hard that she- Oh, Arthur! after all, how I wish she had never come to Abbott's Grange!" "No, I shall never wish that," said he, after a few minutes' pause; and even now, looking back over all the intervening years, I can recall the manly uplift look of my brother's face as he said so. "I am the better for having known her. I would live the last three weeks again, gladly; even to paying their price, as I do now." We were both silent for a little while after this; then he resumed, hurriedly "All this while I am forgetting what I called you for, Lizzy. You must contrive to keep a great deal with her, so that my absence may be unnoticed. No one but us three need ever know-and she is so sensitive. In another week I shall be going back to college, and then it will be all right." He said the cheerful words very drearily, though I burst out, impetuously. "Arthur, she can't help liking you. Perhaps some day-ah, don't give it up; don't go and be hopeless about it." "No, my dear little sister, it's no use. She loves another man, and has been engaged to him for seven years." Seven years! I was aghast. I could not help remembering that seven years ago, Arthur, a little fellow in a cap and jacket, was playing leap"Well, only to think! I'll never judge from frog and marbles with all a schoolboy's gusto. appearances again. Who would have supposed However I said nothing; for evidently the recolthat our fine-lady cousin would turn out a hero-lection had no place in Arthur's thoughts. He ine after all, just like a girl in a book? and that Arthur would fall in love with her? and that she would be our sister at last?" Any other catastrophe never struck me as being within the nature of things. Even when, on arriving at home, Caroline escaped at once to her own room, and Arthur strode off into the shrubbery, dark as it was, still I was not undeceived. I was rather surprised when my offer to assist Miss Ponsonby in changing her wet garments was refused in a subdued and tearful voice. But I thought, people have different ways of taking things. I dare say she is very happy, though she is crying about it. went on: "He has been abroad a long time. She expects him back shortly; then they will be married. She told me she said I had a right to know. She behaved beautifully; she is every thing that is most pure, most gentle, most angelic. In spite of all my wretchedness, I know that." So he went on, till we were summoned indoors. Poor Arthur! he was thoroughly earnest and thoroughly generous in his love for Caroline Ponsonby. If the misery he so freely spoke of were less than absolutely real, and rather a luxurious novelty than any thing else, |