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expended, and that she had not tast--that she did not think she could ed anything for two days. eat if she had anything but oh ! I could not deceive myself. I saw famine on her cheek, and heard faintness in her tone; and after a long fit of thought, I determined to go to Monsieur V, the great bookseller, who had been so kind to me while a boy. I told Mariette my errand, and as Paris was now nearly as quiet as ever, she willingly let me go.

I hur

I thought I should have gone distracted; and after remaining for a few minutes stupified as it were, I ran to the printing-house to see if I could get work, and induce the overseer to advance me a single franc to buy some bread for my poor Mariette. The office, however, was shut up, and I knocked in vain for admittance. I then turned to the lodging of one of my fellowprinters, who might lend me, I thought, even a few sous. ried up the narrow dirty staircase where he lived, and went into his room; but the sight I saw soon convinced me he wanted assistance as much as I did. He was sitting at an uncovered table, with five children of different ages about him. His cheek was wan and hollow; and as I entered, he fixed his haggard eye upon the door, while a little girl kept pulling him importunately by the arm, crying, "Give me a piece, papa-I will have a piece of bread." "Lend me a franc," cried he as soon as he saw me; my children are starving-I will pay you when I get work."

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I told him my own condition; but he burst forth in the midst, as if seized with a sudden frenzy, trembling with passion, and his eye glaring like that of a wild beast. "You are one of the revolutionists too. God's curse and mine upon you! See what your revolutions have brought! My children are starving -every artizan in Paris is beggared and unemployed. I am starving-my wife is dying for want of medicines in that bed-all these dear infants are famished; and all by your cursed revolutions! Out of my sight! Begone! for fear I commit a murder."

With a heart nearly breaking I returned home, and folding my poor Mariette in my arms, I gave way to tears, such as had never stained my cheeks before. She tried to soothe me-and smiled-and told me that really she was not hungry

It was a long way, and I had to cross the whole city, so that it was late when I arrived. Even then I found that Monsieur V was out; but the servant told me I could see him the following morning at nine. With this cold news I was forced to return; and no one can conceive what a miserable night I spent, thinking that every hour was an hour of starvation to the dear creature by my side. She lay very still, but she slept not at all, and I felt sure that the want of rest must wear her as much as hunger. When I rose, however, she seemed rather sleepy, and said she would remain in bed, and try for some repose, as she had not closed her eyes since Monday. It was too early to go to Monsieur V—, so I hurried first to the printing-office, for I hoped that the tranquillity which was now returning, might have caused Monsieur Manson to resume his usual business. I only found the porter, who told me that there was no chance of the house opening again for weeks at least, if not months, and with a chilled heart, I proceeded to the house of Monsieur V—.

Admission was instantly granted me, and I found the great bookseller sitting at a table with some written papers before him, on which he was gazing with an eye from which the spirit seemed withdrawn, to rest upon some deep absorbing contemplation within. He was much changed since I had seen him, and there were in his appearance those indescribable traces of wearing care, which often stamp, in legible cha

racters, on the countenance, the misfortunes which man would fain hide from all the world. There was a certain negligence, too, in his dress, which struck me, but as he received me kindly, I told him all my sorrows, and all my wants.

As I spoke, his eyes fixed upon me with a look of painful and intense interest, and when I had done, he rose, closed the door, and took a turn or two thoughtfully in the room. "What has ruined you," said he at length, pausing before me, and speaking abruptly, "has ruined me. The revolution we have just past through has been great and glorious in its character, and all the world must look upon it with admiration; but it has made you and me, with hundreds, nay thousands, of others-beggars-ay, utter beggars. It is ever the case with revolutions. Confidence is at at end throughout the country, and commerce receives a blow that takes her centuries to recover. The merchant becomes a bankrupt-the artizan starves. I have now seen two revolutions, one bloody and extravagant, the other generous and moderate, and I do not believe that at the end of either of them, there was one man in all France who could lay his hand upon his heart and say, that he was happier for their occurrence; while millions in want and poverty, and millions in mourning and tears, cursed the day

that ever infected them with the spirit of change.-To tell you all in one word within an hour from this time I am a bankrupt, and I am only one of the first out of thousands. Those thousands employ each thousands of workmen, and thus the bread of millions is snatched from their mouths. I do not say that revolutions are always wrong; but I do say that they always bring a load of misery, especially to the laborious and working classes-and now leave me, good youth. There is a five-franc piece for you. It is all I can give you, and that, in fact, I steal from my creditors. I pity you from my soul, and the more, perhaps, because I feel that I need pity myself."

The five-franc piece he gave me, I took with gratitude and ecstacy. To me it was a fortune, for it was enough to save my Mariette. I hastened home with steps of light, only pausing to buy a loaf and a bottle of wine. I ran up stairs-I opened the door. Mariette had not risen. She slept, I thoughtI approached quietly to the bed. All was still-too still. A faintness came over my heart, and it was a moment or two before I could ascertain the cause of the breathless calm that hung over the chamber. I drew back the curtain, and the bright summer sunshine streamed in upon the cold-dead-marble cheek of all that to me had been beautiful and beloved!

LORD CHESTERFIELD AND PRESIDENT MONTESQUIEU.
FROM AN UNPUBLISHED LETTER OF DIDEROT's.

LORD CHESTERFIELD and President
Montesquieu met while traveling in
Italy. Both these celebrated men
were formed to attract, and an inti-
macy soon took place between them.
By the way they were continually
disputing on the character of their
two nations. His lordship admitted
that the French possessed more ésprit
than the English, but asserted that
they were deficient in common
sense this the President did not

deny, but he insisted that these two qualities were not to be compared together.

This dispute had lasted several days, when they arrived at Venice. The president was very busy, went about every where, saw all that was to be seen, made inquiries, chatted, and at night wrote down his observations. One evening he had been engaged for an hour or two in his usual occupation, when a stranger

called and asked to speak with him. He was a shabbily-dressed French

man.

"Sir," said he, "I am a countryman of yours. I have lived here for these twenty years, but my heart is still attached to the French, and I have always felt highly gratified whenever it has been in my power to render any of them a service, as I now can you. In this country a man may do whatever he pleases, so he avoids meddling with affairs of state. An indiscreet word against the government may cost him his head, and more than a thousand have fallen for no higher offence. The state-inquisitors observe all your steps-you are watched-you are dogged wherever you stir-all you do is noted-they are thoroughly convinced that you write. I know for certain that you will have a visit, perhaps to-night, perhaps not till to-morrow. Bethink yourself, sir, whether you have really written anything, and remember that one innocent line, on which a false construction is put, may cost you your life. The only reward I require for a service which I consider not quite unimportant is, that if you meet me in the street, you will not appear to know me, and that, if you should not be able to escape, but be apprehended, you will not betray me." these words the man retired, leaving Montesquieu in the greatest con

sternation.

With

The first thing he did was to go to his writing-desk, collect all his papers, and commit them to the flames. He had scarcely finished this business, when Lord Chesterfield came home. He could not help noticing the extraordinary agitation in which he found his friend, and inquired what had happened. The President told him what kind of a visiter he had just had, that he had burned his papers, and ordered his chaise to be in readiness by three o'clock in the morning, as he was resolved to quit without delay a place where a longer residence might be attended with such dreadful consequences.

His lordship calmly listened to him and said: "Quite right, my dear President; but compose yourself a little, and let us coolly talk over your adventure."

"You are out of your wits," replied the President: "How can I be composed, when my life is hanging by a thread ?"

"But who is the man that has so generously exposed himself to the most imminent danger in order to save you? There is something mysterious in this. Frenchman, or no Frenchman, the love of country does not impel a man to so perilous a step merely out of kindness to an utter stranger. You are not acquainted with the man?"

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"I never set eyes on him before." "He was shabbily dressed, you ?"

say

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"Did he ask you for money-a crown or so-for his warning?" “No, not a liard.”

"That is still more strange but how does he know all the things he told you?"

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Indeed, I can't tell !—perhaps from the inquisitors themselves."

"That tribunal is the most secret in the world; but, setting this aside, how came this man in contact with it?"

"He is probably one of its spies ?" "Hardly. Is it likely that they would make a spy of a foreigner, that this spy would dress like a beggar while following a profession which for its very baseness ought to pay him well; that he would betray his masters, out of kindness to you, at risk of being strangled if you are taken and accuse him, and of being suspected of having warned you in case you escape ? No, no, my dear friend, this is all fudge."

"How then can you account for it?"

"I have been long considering the matter, but I can make nothing of it."

They had both racked their brains to no purpose for all sorts of conjectures, and the President still persist

ed in his determination to decamp as ing, I say, the man was sent by speedily as possible, in order to somebody—” avoid all risks, when Chesterfield, pacing to and fro, suddenly raised his hand to his brow, as though a Juminous thought had flashed across his mind, and stood stock still. "My dear friend," said he, "don't be in a hurry: a thought strikes me. Supposing the man

Spare me, my lord ! spare me !" "By a person who sometimes delights in mischief-a certain Lord Chesterfield, to prove to you by. experience that an ounce of common sense is worth more than a hundred pounds of wit-"

"Detestable fellow!" exclaimed the President-"what a trick you have played me! And my manuscripts-my manuscripts - all burned!"

"Well!-what of the man?" "Supposing, I say, the man-yes, it might certainly be so, and it is so, I have not the least doubt-" "But who is the man, then? If you know, why not tell me at once?" "If I know ?-why yes, I verily believe I do now know-suppos- fellow-traveller.

Montesquieu could not forgive the joke, and he set out the same night, without taking leave of his

KNOWLEDGE FOR THE PEOPLE.*

THIS is the first portion of an attempt to simplify science, or rather to trace effects which we witness every hour, to scientific principles; or, in common parlance, to ascertain their Why and Because, and reduce it to plain and popular

terms.

The present Part is devoted to Domestic Science, or the phenomena that occur in parlor, kitchen, chamber, and hall. Thus, among the subjects are fires, effects of heat, evaporation, water, boiling, breadmaking, brewing, wine-making, spirits, vinegar, fish, fruit, vegetables, spices, clothing, cleaning, lamps and candles, clocks and watches, &c. Each question begins Why-and the answer Because; and of these there are upwards of 400. We quote a few specimens:

FIRES.

Why does water thrown on a brisk and flaming fire apparently increase the combustion ?

Because the water is converted into steam, which expanding and mixing with the flame, causes it to

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Knowledge for the People: or, the Plain Why and Because. By John Timbs, Editor of "Laconics; or, the Best Words of the Best Authors."

Why are meat screens lined with tin?

Because the polished metal reflects the heat upon the roasting meat, and thus expedites the cooking, independently of the screen itself protecting the joint from currents of air. On this account, screens, entirely of tin, are calculated for expeditious cookery.

Why is a harp or piano-forte, which is well tuned in a morning drawing-room, not perfectly in tune when a crowded evening party has heated the room?

Because the expansion of the strings is greater than that of the wooden frame work; and in cold the reverse will happen.--Arnott.

Why does a gate in an iron railing shut loosely and easily in a coid day, and stick in a warm one? Because in the latter there is a greater expansion of the gate and railing than of the earth on which they are placed.

Why are thin glass tumblers less liable to be broken by boiling water, than thick ones?

Because the heat pervades the thin vessels almost instantly, and with impunity, whereas thicker ones do not allow a ready passage of heat.

Why does straw or flannel prevent the freezing of water in pipes during winter?

Because it is a slow conducting screen or covering, and thus prevents heat passing out of the pipe. By the same means the heat is restrained in steam pipes.

Why have some houses double windows?

Because the air enclosed between the two windows greatly prevents the escape of heat which is produced within the house in winter. Thus, air is an imperfect conductor of heat. Houses which have double windows are likewise more quiet than others, from the air being also a bad conductor of sound.

EVAPORATION.

Why is profuse perspiration so 41 ATHENEUM, VOL. 5, 3d series.

cooling to laboring men, and all evaporation productive of cold?

Because of the necessity of a large quantity of caloric being combined with fluids, to convert them into vapor or gas.

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Why do persons take cold by sitting in wet clothes?

Because they suddenly lose a large portion of heat, which is carried off from the body by the evaporation of the water from the clothes.

Why, in hot countries, do persons continually throw water on curtains which there form the sides of apartments ?

Because the evaporation of the water absorbs a vast deal of heat, and makes the apartments cool and refreshing.

Why does the sulphuric acid in fire bottles so often fail in igniting the matches?

Because the acid is continually attracting moisture from the air, owing to the imperfect manner of closing the bottles.

BOILING.

Why should the bottom of a tea-kettle be black, and the top polished?

Because the bottom has to absorb heat, which is aided by rough and blackened surfaces; and the top has to retain heat, which is ensured by polished ones.

Why is a crust so frequently seen on the insides of tea-kettles and boilers?

Because of the hard water boiled in them, which holds in solution carbonate of lime, but being long boiled, the latter is no longer soluble, and becomes precipitated.

Why is water, when boiled, mawkish and insipid?

Because the gases which it contained have been expelled by boiling.

Why is hard water by boiling brought nearly to the state of soft ?

Because it is freed from its gases ; and its earthy salts and substances,

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