CHAPTER VII.

CALLICLES (loquitur).—For to those whom it has befallen from the first either to be the sons of Kings, or who are able by nature to procure for themselves a government, or tyranny, or dynasty, what can be more disgraceful and base than temperance? who, when it is in their power to enjoy the good things of this life, and no one hinders them, impose a master on themselves, the law, discourse, and censure of the multitude? Or how should they be otherwise than miserable through the beauty of justice and temperance, while they impart no more to their friends than to their enemies, and this though they have supreme power in their own city? Thus then it stands with the truth, Socrates, which you say you are in search of: luxury, intemperance, and liberty, if they have the proper aids, these are virtue and felicity; but all those other fine things, those compacts contrary to nature, are extravagancies of men, and of no value.

SOCRATES.-Not at all ignobly, Callicles, have you expressed your opinions, speaking freely; for you now plainly say what others think, indeed, but are unwilling to say.

PLATO'S Gorgias-CARY's Translation.

THE Grand-Duchess Ulrica's sudden arrival at the court of S-- rather increased the pomps and pageantries with which it was the pleasure of the new Sovereign to inaugurate his

accession to its throne. Ailing as Thekla was at that period, she was obliged to perform her part and a most onerous one it was—of the daily and hourly ceremonial which formed the tenour of her life; and from this indisposition, nay, sometimes illness itself, hardly sufficed to excuse her. Her beauty and sweetness of disposition rendered her popular with all who came in contact with her. Her husband, well aware of this fact, took every advantage of it. He was too careless and selfish to allow consideration for the state of her health to interfere with his own plans of amusement, or schemes for popularity; and the poor Queen was often obliged to take an active part in banquets and public entertainments when half sinking with fatigue; she longed to rest her weary head upon her pillow-but ever gentle and submissive to the King's wishes, she exerted herself to appear at the fêtes given in her honour; and, by so doing, probably injured her delicate frame to a degree no after vigilance could atone for. One of the duties thus imposed upon

her, at this time of weakness and depression was, an evening reception twice in the week, at the palace, of all the court and nobility with their respective families. On these nights all who were entitled to that honour were received by their Majesties in the splendid state apartments of the palace of S——, a curious and stately old building, which was most brilliantly lighted, and decorated with great taste and splendour for the occasion.

The very last of these receptions before her Majesty's accouchement, might well be remembered by those who were present, for a circumstance that occurred there, and which was fully discussed at the time. Thekla had been more than usually suffering the day preceding it, but with the patient fortitude which she ever exhibited, complied with the King's wish, or rather commands, that she should be present. Exquisitely dressed, but pale and delicate as an April blossom, she half reclined rather than sat, on a chaise longue, so contrived, that it should support her languid

frame in a half upright position; and, as each lady, according to her rank and position, came up, she begged them, in that charming manner, full of consideration for those she addressed, so peculiar to herself, to sit by her side: while she entered into conversation with each individual for a few minutes; after which, with a sweet smile she would sign a graceful dismissal, and address herself with kindly interest to the next comer. All remarked, on that evening, the singular beauty, yet fragility of her appearance; -already-hardly known-she was beloved amongst them. Her kindness of heart-her earnest piety-the charity and sweetness of her disposition, had even then signalized itself by various liberal donations among the poor-of kindly acts of thoughtfulness among the richer classes, that caused her name to be long unforgotten. On this occasion it was often recalled by those around that, in spite of the evident languor and suffering by which she was oppressed, the charm of that peculiar grace and

tact of address was never more vividly felt, more earnestly responded to.

In glaring contrast to the attractive charm of his fair consort, the King himself that evening wore a lowering and sullen brow. He had joined the circle after the late banquet, at which an English Prince, travelling for amusement, had been present; and now, after presenting him to the Queen, with an inarticulate mutter, half a growl, half a menace-as it sounded to those who heard it he retired a few paces from her chair, and stood watching her as she addressed a few words of courteous greeting to the Prince, their guest. Just at that moment his eye caught in a mirror the reflection of Mademoiselle de Söhran's figure: who, seated on a low tabouret (one of the privileges of her position as first lady in waiting to the Queen), elaborately dressed, and certainly looking exceedingly handsome, was on the watch to attract his attention. He instantly joined her, and placing himself on a low chair immediately behind her, so as to