tarred and feathered than are even the pretended specimens of painted marbles on record. We would, out of consideration for the peculiar taste of the decorators, mitigate the punishment, by allowing the received proportion of Mr Jones's blue and vermilion to be mixed with the tar.

Besides, as fine feathers make fine birds, and choice may be made of the brightest colours, it would be a fine sight, and one that would very much take the fancy of the public, to see the Polychromatists stand materially and bodily plastered, stuccoed, coloured, tarred and feathered, in the Crystal Palace, in their own glory or shame, as they may be pleased to take it, as living specimens of colouring interferences, to the infinite amusement of all beholders, and a caution to modern decorators. They would be pleased in one respect, for, beyond a question, the white statues would be quite neglected, the "prejudice" in favour of white marble would quite give way, and even the city wonders, Gog and Magog, would be no longer visited.

The reader will think it time to draw to a conclusion; it will be most satisfactory if he deems the case too clear to have required so much discussion, and that

"Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle."

But before we lay down the pen, we would not have it supposed that we are not sensible both of the merits and advantages of the Crystal Palace. It ought to be, and doubtless will be, the means of improving the people, and affording them rational amusement. There has been a little too much bombast about it, as a great college for the education of the mind of the people-too much eulogistic verbiage, which sickens the true source of rational admiration. It will improve, because it will amuse; for good amusement is education both for head and heart. The best praise it can receive is, that it is a place of

permanent amusement, than which nothing could be devised more beautiful and appropriate for those who mainly want such relief from the toils and cares which eat into life. We could wish the Archbishop of Canterbury had not consented to let the Church of England be dragged in triumph behind the car of a commercial speculation. It was in bad taste at its opening-and Mr Owen Jones's colouring is another specimen of bad taste-but 66 non paucis maculis." We sincerely hope it will succeed in all respects, though we ventured not to join the Archbishop in his prayer. In fact, it is too great in itself for unnecessary display at the ushering in, which was worse than ridiculous-it made that which should be most serious in that place an offence and a falsity. The reader may be amused by an inauguration of quite another kind-one of poetry by anticipation. We summon, then, our oldest poet, to celebrate as afar off, for coming time, our newest Crystal Palace and its wonders, in

THE people swayed and hummed in the road, with strange burnished checquers cast over their very visages as they pressed against the gorgeous gates, thrown open towards each other, so as to form a double impromptu palisade across the highway, and locked as well as steadied by inward props; through the bars of each side-wicket could be seen a scarlet-clothed Swiss sentinel, his musket shouldered, as he paced to and fro, grimly though carelessly contemplating all. But scarce was there time to take in the scene ere a louder trumpet-note sounded from among the trees, and two mounted trumpeters in orange liveries were seen to rise at speed on the brow of the avenue; till, amidst sudden silence, the whole array of a brilliant cortège rose up beyond them from a slope, glittering, indeed, yet pale and almost tarnished amidst the rich evening light, as it emerged through the cool forest chase. It was indeed the royal stag-hunt returning to Marly from the woods. Swiftly they came onward - the troop of chivalrouslooking gardes-du-corps, in sky-blue and gold, scarlet velvet breeches and white-plumed black hats, with ringing scabbards and glossy foam-flecked horses, the carriages and riders, the sledge with the slain stag, and the chasseurs and stag-hounds. But the procession appeared to go across in visionary swiftness between the reversed gates: there was but one glimpse of that single face, with its unfixed and solitary glance, its inscrutable air of calm, ere it had gone past, to a doubtful murmur of Vive le Roi, that was succeeded by a hubbub of sounds, with all the disagreeable pressure of a miscellaneous crowd, sometimes standing on the wheels, or leaning against the carriage hood. Young Willoughby had torn off his hat with a hurrah!' which stultified all his previous British protestations.

A face was turned up from the confusion beneath, which, owing to the now neater attire of the possessor, Charles had not before observed: the village teacher had assumed coat and hat, bearing an umbrella of somewhat faded texture beneath his arm, and some workmen evidently assisted him to gain a more convenient position.

"Yes, I say, Father Pierre," gloomily observed one of the workmen, addressing the teacher, as if in reference to some previous remark, "there are plots !"

"Ah, it is no doubt undeniable," agreed that person, with reluctance, while he still turned an eye to the carriage, as if to apologise for being thrust up against it: "there are possibly plots. In that case it is only necessary to disconcert them, Monsieur Jacques."

"But it is exactly to do so, Monsieur Morin," said a quieter mechanic, "that, after earlier than usual dismissing the school, you were on the point to set off for Paris."

"Yes, half an hour ago, on foot, to the Club Breton, at the Palais Royal," continued a peasant beyond.

"Père Pierre had a plot also, you know," added some one else.

"Pardon me, Monsieur Robert-a plan," replied the teacher with his peculiar blandness, though his eye continued wandering sideways to the carriage: "to plot, my friend-it does not belong to the virtuous.”

"But from a philosopher," rejoined the villager, "Monsieur Père Morin is about to become a man of actionhe has a plan."

"Delayed by this beast of a barricade, which deranges everything," said his rougher neighbour, angrily.

"Monsieur Morin will, then, however, relate to us this plot which he counteracts," added the keen-eyed mechanic, with emphasis-" and the plan also. We shall perhaps be able

66

we

to assist him! It seems to me that M. Morin should have avoided being thrust on this side the barrier." "Good!" responded Jacques, shall assist him! It is no doubt fortunate after all." The last riders had passed through, and the porters were coming with their keys to unlock the gates. The neighbouring chateau clock struck six with a cracked tone; and the great gates were slowly yielding, to allow time for the Swiss sentries to cross through. They came together to their usual place with a clash; the crowd poured each way between again, among the various country vehicles and market - carts, the passengers and riders, from or to the city, or the town of Versaillesfor a few minutes in such sudden disorder as almost to hurl the bystanders from the carriage when it drove forward; save the young man, the teacher, who had held by it for security, and in the attempt to balance himself was urged so close as to seize the hood of the barouche, already in motion. An unaccountable repugnance shot from the young lady's look and attitude as she started back, extricating her shawl from the accidental clutch-till her heart reproached her next moment at his thorough expression of apology mixed with alarm, for Jackson drove furiously down-hill. She was in vain calling him to stop, when she saw her brother spring up quick as thought, look round, and hurl their unintentional fellow-passenger backward on the road.

"Drive on, Jackson," shouted Charles, triumphantly. "Serves him right the very fellow's face that I detested!"

Panniered market-asses, hastening pedestrians and boys, alone mingled with their speed across the bridge, past the chemin des affronteux, into Charlemont; the sudden howl of indignation from the groups behind them had died away.

"What on earth is the matter with you, Jackson?" called out the lad, starting up again, as they reached about the middle of the village street; "why don't you drive on? Never mind watering your horses!"

"They've got a couple of farm-waggons and some hampers right across the way, sir," replied Jackson, turning

about from his box, with an undertone as much from misgiving as respect.

A shadowy mass blocked up the passage before them, looking vague in the dusk. It was opposite the door of a shabby auberge or village inn, with the sign of the Fleurde-lis. Charles stood up to call out in French, and a gendarme in coarse blue uniform advanced to the side of the carriage, civilly enough, as if to answer his inquiries.

"You have injured a respectable person, it is said, monsieur," was the reply of the functionary, in a lowered voice-"a man of influence in the place here."

"Wilfully, too, it seems!" added a villager, sharply, and turning to the crowd, which in a few seconds gathered about the speakers.

"Yes, yes-our schoolmaster-a philosopher-an estimable man-M. Morin !" was the general response, rising to a climax: "see him there, assisted by every one to reach the spot!"

The figure of Morin by that time became obvious, in fact, near the door of the tavern, supported by workmen and peasants, while the blood trickled down his cheek, and he limped on one foot, seeming more confused than hurt. The concern of the ladies was extreme; young Willoughby alone remained obstinately cool as the excitement increased; he assumed the chief part with great self-possession, and distinctly imputed the fault to the aggrieved individual, expressing quite as plainly, though in rather indifferent French, his doubts as to the seriousness of the injury.

The landlord of the auberge, a beetle-browed man in a striped cowl and white apron, with an air between a cook and a butcher, had hovered behind, looking on with apparent attempts at moderation among the bystanders. "Yet monsieur will scarcely refuse to apologise to M. Morin?" inquired he, thrusting his sinister visage nearer.

"If you only hand me your purse, mother," was Charles's answer, to Lady Willoughby's anxiety, "you'll soon see what's wanted!"

"Monsieur!" exclaimed he, draw ing back from the boy's offer with an offended look, "you insult me!"

In the indignant noise which ensued, apologies would have been unavailing; but at the appearance of another gendarme pushing up, Charles Willoughby seated himself, turned his shoulder on the rabble, and contented himself with explaining matters to the official beside him, into whose palm he had easily enough slipped the rejected coin. It produced no apparent increase of deference in the man's stiff civility; but he exchanged a few prompt words with his comrade, who took out a stump of pencil and a scrap of paper, put the end of the first into his mouth, and rested the latter on the carriagewheel, looking up imperturbably for further particulars. An authoritative word or two from the other, as he raised his voice, and glanced from the throng to the obstacles in the street, on the other side of which marketdrivers from Paris were grumbling, served to restore a degree of order. "Yes, Martin, it will be sufficient," he loudly observed to his companion, "to take notice of the passports. Attention, then, Martin!"

"Monsieur will exhibit the passports," said the sergeant in the same tone, as he turned again to the carriage. Charles Willoughby looked blank, though he mechanically felt for them in his pocket, and inquired at Jackson, at Mrs Mason, at all the party, looking below the cushions and beneath the seats. It was to no purpose; he had to admit that they were not forthcoming; a gentleman of the party, who would no doubt directly appear, had happened to have them in his pocket. The gendarmes stood up, and looked to each other significantly; the one put up his paper and pencil, with a shrug of his shoulders; the other addressed himself with a rigid air of regret to the carriage.

"It will be necessary to descend, mesdames et monsieur," he said firmly, "until the affair can be adjusted. No, monsieur," he rejoined in a lower voice to Charles, who was hinting at a further douceur, "impossible-a bribe!-and in the circumstances. But the thing is doubtless a mere

bagatelle, which M. le Maire will very soon arrange at his chateau."

"Yes! yes! Live justice!" screamed the gathered village, male and female, boys, girls, and children, down to the very crowing of the infant in arms, the excitement of poodles on the thresholds, the rousing up of fowls going early to roost above the doorways inside the dingy cottages.

"But, M. le Gendarme," interposed the injured Morin himself, calmly, “I entertain no resentment against monsieur."

"Only a complaint, M. Morin," said the sergeant, with dignity. "It must be attended to. Besides that, the passports, which concern the State, are wanting. It is far more important." The mob shrieked applause; even showing symptoms of disapprobation against their outraged teacher, who was silenced.

"Well, then, gendarme," said young Willoughby, still contemptuous except to the lawful authorities beside him, "what do you mean by our getting down? Can you not take us at once to your mayor? This is not his chateau, I suppose?"

"Impossible, monsieur," was the unruffled answer, "as M. le Comte has this afternoon gone to his hotel in Paris, and the commissary of the commune resides at some distance. It is by favour, I assure you, monsieur, that you are not conducted there, or to the guardhouse of the district-which, of course, was impossible in the case of mesdames your companions." The affable sergeant of police bowed towards the ladies. At the auberge here, however, of the Fleur-de-lis, they will enjoy very superior accommodation with M. Grostète, who is the landlord. He is even an artist; the ménage, too, of madame the hostess is admirable."

With regard to the prolongation of the dilemma, the village mob found an evident luxury in it, appearing to balance oddly enough between the wildest rage and looks of murmured interest; as if, the more struck they were with the youth's blunt, spirited manner, the mother's obvious distress, and the young lady's pale, startled air, through her veil and out of her simple straw-hat, with her governess's ill-maintained fastidious

ness, the more unwilling the whole audience grew to lose hold of these, but would fain have been wrought up to extract something more tragic by way of sequel. The young man who had been the occasion of all, first relieved the party from their difficulty: Morin had fixed his light-blue eyes on the ground, and raised them thoughtfully as he moved forward to the chief gendarme.

"But fortunately, M. le Sergent," said he, in a thin, distinct voice, it seems to me that I am capable of readjusting this affair here."

"And how?" inquired the policeofficer, over his shoulder, as he drew himself up with an air of additional authority.

"M. le Maire has this evening gone to Paris?" continued the teacher, with composure.

"Yes, I witnessed his departure, since I had the honour to receive M. le Comte's instructions," answered the functionary, in more immovable certainty than before.

"I was aware of it," said Morin, mildly, "because this morning, through the intendant of his estate, M. le Comte condescended to inform me of it."

"Ah, you were informed of it, M. Morin!" said the gendarme, with a slight air of surprise, putting his thumb to his chin, and looking somewhat cautious. "Well ?"

"And M. le Comte will not only be in Paris to-night," said the schoolmaster, "but to-morrow also, since he has affairs of more importance to transact. Therefore it would be necessary to convey Monsieur the young Englishman to the commissary at Marly."

"Peste! I did not know that though!" ejaculated the gendarme, letting fall his hand. "But you are right. It is only to the commissary at Marly, then, that we can resort." And grim indifference returned to the faces of the gendarmes, as they shrug ged their shoulders.

"But it was exactly to see M. le Comte that I was about to proceed, when disabled," continued Pierre Morin, modestly, while he indicated his misfortune by a slight movement of the leg. The gendarmes stared at each other half incredulously.

VOL. LXXVI.-NO. CCCCLXVII.

"Eh? Père Pierre ?" interrupted two or three voices; and the rough workman shouldered in, turning a dully suspicious glance from his begrimed visage to Morin's, and adding, "It was to the Cloobbe Breton-the Palais Royal, I thought ?"

"To disconcert a plot?" exclaimed several others.

"By a plan?" was the vivacious chorus of many together.

The young schoolmaster bowed. "Certainly, M. Jacques," he said, with an unruffled smile, to the workmen, "since, thanks to the designs of some relatives, it is to the club that M. le Comte would have gone tonight as an auditor. He is still young -his ideas, though philosophical, are timid-it happens that he would have heard our boldest and least elegant orators, who watch with such a noble jealousy the division which is prolonged in the States-General by the privileged orders. I have studied the character of M. le Comte-he would have been deterred-his eloquence as our deputy to the Third Estate would not only have disgraced us at Charlemont here, but have given force to the opinions of others who would ruin all. There was, in short, a diabolical snare spread for him."

An indignant murmur ran through the crowd, as they glanced to each other in alarm. The gendarmes rather appeared puzzled.

"Ah dâme!" broke out the superior of the two; "but how is it that you are acquainted with all this, M. le Maitre-d'école ?"

"It is simple, M. le Sergent," replied Morin, calmly. "The message I received to-day, through M. le Comte's intendant, informed me, that as a correspondent of the Club, as an advocate for the right-to-absorb of the Third Estate, I was about to be dismissed from my school-unless, indeed, on the assurance, before M. le Comte's departure, of confining my views to the elementary instruction for which I was placed there." It was with difficulty he could proceed, for the violent uproar of surprise and resentment. "I was silent," he at length continued: " at your usual wish I read aloud the journal of yesterday. I received the fresh message left for me, that till nine, M. le Comte