Page images
PDF
EPUB

her cakes to sell, and customers increased fast. Soon, however, she began to stay more at home, and instead of her pastry, she used to work at tiny caps and pinafores; and when strangers came in, she hid them away shyly and blushed like a rose. I sold wood, which I bought en gros round the country; and it was a profitable trade. Ah, how happy we were!

There was a great sale of trees in a forest beyond Fontainebleau, and I started off to attend it and get bargains. I promised my dear little wife to be back in a few days. She did not like me to be long away from her just then; and as for me, I could not bear to have her out of my sight. I had only been two days at the place, when they came to tell me that a boy from Penthièvre had come and wanted to see me. flew to meet him.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Another moment, and the long train of carriages came dashing in at full gallop-royalty always travels fast. The halt was of short duration, In less time than I have taken to describe it, the horses were changed, the lamps lit all along the line of carriages, flashing up one after another into sudden brilliancy; and the glittering cortège continued its rapid progress.

From the carriage window we looked after the dazzling cavalcade, and watched it disappearing into the darkness. Suddenly a thundering sound was heard approaching; and then came a violent crash. Our carriage was dashed forwards against the posthouse-the pole and forepart shattered by the concussion. There was a noise behind of furious struggling and plunging of horses--a feelIing as if the rumble and roof of the vehicle were coming crashing in over our heads-a confusion of

T

Joy, joy!" he exclaimed; "you have a charm- shrieks, oaths, and exclamations outside; while ing little daughter!"

"And Marie?" I cried...

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

"Stop!" she said; "I have brought you the infant. Won't you look at your child?"

"Ah, it is a nice little thing," I said, kissing it; "but I want to see Marie. Let me pass."

"No, no-not yet. Wait a minute, there's a good man. She can't see you just now; she can't indeed."

"Not see her own Jeannot?"

"No, I tell you. Don't push by me; you will disturb her. She is not so well-she is asleep she "

'I freed myself, and rushed in. O mon Dieu! Marie-that marble face-the flowers-those white draperies-the crucifix on her breast-the crowds in the room-my old blind mother sobbing at the bedside, her apron thrown over her face what did it all mean? Marie, Marie! won't you speak to me? Cold-silent-still! My head turned round, my sight swam; I ran out of the house'

'Father!' cried a young girl from the crowd, running up to the little cakeman and pulling him by the sleeve, 'the king is coming! See, every one is preparing. They are getting out the horses. Come away, come away!'

There was indeed a great stir. The people, chattering, clamouring, and jostling, separated to the right and left to leave a free passage. The postillions pulled off their blouses, and gave a hasty glance over their finery. But no one came; it was a false alarm.

Another tedious hour passed away. It grew very cold, and so dark that the poor little cakeman's white garments could no longer be distinguished from the dusky mass as he flitted restlessly about. At length a distant sound was heard. It grew louder. Le roi le roi!' passed in hoarse, awed murmurs from mouth to mouth. A sudden silence fell upon the crowd. The king's courier galloped up, and in an instant all was ready, the horses out, the postillions at their posts.

[ocr errors]

high over all the din, the piercing screams of our luckless abigail sounded in our ears.

Stunned and utterly bewildered, it was some minutes before we could make out what had happened. The first object that met our eyes on recovering from the shock was our poor maid being carried into the posthouse.

'Be calm, Mesdames,' exclaimed the voice of little Jeannot, who was foremost of a sympathising crowd gathered round us; 'she is not hurt, heaven be praised! only very much frightened. One of the horses is dead. Look at him, poor beast, lying stretched behind your carriage. Ciel! how he plunged. If Mademoiselle had not climbed up on the roof, it would have been all over with her. The driver is terribly injured. They have taken him into the house, only just alive.'

It now appeared that at the moment the royal cavalcade left Penthièvre, the carriage of the Duc de Beauvon was proceeding from his château in the neighbourhood, along the road to the town, with the lamps unlit. The mania for English horses was just then at its height among the young French nobility; and the week before, the Duc de Beauvon had purchased a pair of magnificent English thoroughbreds for I know not how many thousand francs. These spirited animals were now drawing the carriage, which was luckily empty. The king's courier, who was galloping considerably in front, came in the darkness into collision with the horses. They took fright; and when the train of carriages, glittering with lights and going full speed, passed them, became unmanageable, and set off at a furious pace. They fol lowed madly along until they dashed up against our devoted carriage. The shock may be ima gined! The rumble was flattened in; one of the Duke's horses, a splendid gray, striking his head with violence against the iron and fracturing his skull. The poor animal in his dying struggles leaped so high that had not the maid, with great presence of mind, scrambled up on the roof, as Jeannot described, his forefeet would have surely struck her. As it was, her escape was almost miraculous.

The Duc de Beauvon was soon on the spot. He came attended by three or four English grooms, and their lamentations over the gallant gray? were grievous. As for us, we were soon surrounded by all the blacksmiths of Penthièvre. After a noisy consultation, they decided that by their

united efforts it would be possible to patch up our dilapidated equipage so as to enable us to proceed on our journey.

Before leaving Penthièvre, we learned that the Duke's coachman, though seriously hurt, was likely to recover. The courier who had been the innocent cause of the night's disaster was the man immortalised by the pencil of Horace Vernet. It was he who, having met with a mischance while on duty with the king, was bled by the hands of his royal master. The incident is the subject of a painting in the gallery at Versailles. On this occasion, fortunately, his horse was the only sufferer.

How different was the scene of our next rencontre with Louis-Philippe ! In his own palace, the lordly Tuileries, radiant with lights, and brilliant with gorgeous uniforms and sparkling diamonds, it took place. It was the 'reception' night; and here, attended by his family and courtiers, His Majesty made the round of the salons, receiving the homage of the company, ranged along for the purpose of being presented; for, unlike the ceremonial at our own court, where the sovereign stands to receive the obeisance of those defiling before the presence,' here at the Tuileries it was royalty that moved, the subjects that remained stationary. Our party was at a short distance from the doors, and thus some little time elapsed before the royal personages reached us in their progress down the room. First came the king, his shrewd clever face beaming with frank good-nature; and after him the queen, tall and fragile, with silver hair and careworn looks. Then followed the handsome, graceful Due d'Orleans, with his Duchess, full of German bonhomie and the sensible expression that atoned for lack of beauty. How serene she looked, that happy young wife, all unconscious of what was before her of the day, so near, when Paris was convulsed to its centre by the tidings of the carriage accident in the Bois de Boulogne that made her a widow ! Well it is for us all that the future is shrouded from our eyes; and how especially well for the family of Louis-Philippe that they could not foresee the trials and reverses that were in after years to come. The Duchesse de Nemours, Princesse Clementine, and the three brothers De Nemours, D'Aumale, and Montpensier, came next. They were each attended by their households, and the same ceremony observed as in the case of the king and queen. Our names were asked by the lady or gentleman in waiting, who repeating it, presented us. All the royal family, except the Duc d'Orleans, spoke a few gracious words to each in succession as we were introduced. The Duke's aim just then was to gain popularity and to ingratiate himself with his countrymen, and with that view, his courtesies towards the English Louis-Philippe, on the contrary, treated them with marked attention.

were scant.

ambassadors and the ladies-in-waiting of the French court, and thus we had the good fortune of being seated quite close to the royal family.

The supper-room that night looked like fairyland. It was the theatre of the palace fitted up for the purpose the stage and pit being laid out with tables, and each box forming a little separate refreshment-room. Flowers, mirrors, statues, draperies, lights, ornaments-all were combined with exquisite effect; and what made the scene strange in our eyes was, that none but ladies were present. When the signal for supper was given, our cavaliers separated from their partners and drew back, forming a lane through which the many-coloured procession-a kaleidoscope of silks and satins and velvets, flowers and feathers and gleaming jewels-moved towards the theatre.

There the effect was curious; such an assemblage of womankind, the footmen, in their gorgeous state liveries, who waited upon the fair company, being the only individuals of the opposite sex to be seen. It was a new experience to find one's self on a festive occasion making one of such a congregation of ladies. We are used to the idea of bodies of men gathered together at public dinners and the like; but an exclusively feminine assembly was certainly a novelty. Before leaving the fairy-like theatre, we turned to take a long look at it. The departing procession-those moving wreaths of figures of every hue and tint all branching off in different ways to gain the outlets to the doors-looked like the intricate mazes of some fantastic ballet.

When the tables were re-decked, the signal for the gentlemen's supper was given. Shortly after this, the royal party retired. Departures followed each other in due succession; and soon the brilliant Tuileries were left to silence and repose.

THE MARRIED WOMEN'S PROPERTY АСТ (1882).

WHILE the attention of the public was taken up with the disturbances in Ireland and in Egypt, there was passed very quietly through both our 1882, an Act of Parliament which is destined to legislative assemblies, in the ordinary session of

exert a considerable influence on the social and domestic life of this country. The short title of this Act is given above; its provisions will apply to all parts of the United Kingdom except Scotland, and it will come into force on the first of January 1883. Twenty or thirty years ago, such an Act would have been considered revolutionary; a man who had dared to advocate the views that will thus shortly be come law would have been represented as a social firebrand, as an enemy to marriage, as throwing an apple of discord between husband and wife, as a disturber of the peace and the harmony of family life. Nothing of the kind, however, has occurred; Lord Selborne's Act has been accepted without any angry debate, and has been passed in a comparatively tranquil spirit.

Three days after the reception came our invitations to the court ball. A magnificent fête it was, and most conspicuous was the talent for producing effect, so peculiar to the French, in all its arrangements and decorations. The Countess of G, one of the ladies of the The Married Women's Property Act (1882) is bedchamber to our own Queen, was the chaperon not a long or an unusually technical document; of our party. She was at once recognised, and and seeing that it will affect half the families led up to the benches occupied by the foreign in the kingdom, we recommend the public

[graphic][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][subsumed][ocr errors][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors][subsumed][subsumed]

Journal

married women it brings responsibilities as well as advantages. A wife with separate property will have to support her husband, children, and grandchildren, should they become chargeable to

we strolled up

In the cool of the evening was an ancient to the old man's dwelling.

cottage, situated a little way back from the road. The light played with a thousand tints among

granon or parish; and if she carries on a the mosses of the thickly thatched roof, and over

any

trade apart from her husband, she will be subject to the bankruptcy laws. A wife who lends money to her husband for business purposes, will only have a poor chance of getting a dividend in case of his bankruptcy; for the claims of all the other creditors must be satisfied before hers. To the extent of her separate property, a married woman will be liable for all the debts she may have contracted prior to her marriage. For debts contracted after marriage by y a wife having money of her own, the husband will not be liable unless she has acted as his

[ocr errors]

it a thin curl of blue smoke hung lazily in the evening air. A few gnarled hawthorn trees sheltered the cottage from the blasts which swept down the mountain-sides; a patch of ground sloping down towards the river was devoted to the cultivation of cabbages, potatoes, &c. while in front, the little garden was one blaze of flowers, High up, on the brow of the hill which formed the background, two or three goats in a semi-wild state were feeding, and stood out in bold relief against the evening sky. A little way down the bridge. Altogether, the spot breathed of quiet, peace, and content; and one could hardly fancy that the cruel sounds of war had ever been heard near so tranquil a spot.

that a married woman can The Act provides road, the river Isla was arched over by an old

sue or be sued for money independently of her husband; and as a wife can take criminal proceedings against her husband, so , so in like manner, when the circumstances are reversed, the husband can take criminal proceedings against his wife. The

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

precise of the law as regards both married a little man! with neck, arms, and legs bare, and

and unmarried people, remains yet to
be seen ;
but in any case, the Act will have its uses, and
will certainly remove some of the grievances
under which married women have undoubtedly
suffered in the
ms on the enlos to Sumit
past.
on of dengur au
THE OLD CLAYMORE

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

As we approached the cottage, we were confronted by a boy of about ten years of age-such as brown sweat as a nut; his dark hair innocent of brush and comb; and his eyes like those of an eagle-keen, piercing, determined, and intelligent. As he recognised the minister, his expression relaxed into a half-bashful smile, but quickly reverted into a somewhat distrustful look as he fixed his eye upon me, the stranger." Well, Alick, my man, is your grandfather in?? asked niy friend.

as

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Ay, sir; he's ben the house,' he answered. Will ye plense to step in ?-Grandfaither, here's the minister frae the manse asking for ye.'

that one can scarcely have stood at least six younger

[ocr errors]

Ir is a matter of how, after t the battle of Culloden, the victorious soldiers ravaged the Highlands and ill-treated the inhabitants. For a long time afterwards, under the pretence of disarming them; the Highlanders were hunted from his seat to welcome us. As we entered, the old man rose with difficulty and shot down like wild beasts, their habitations bonnet to the minister, who kindly shook hands He pulled off his were burned, and their cattle and gear carried with him. His figure was thin and bent, but off. The record of these crimes forms such a wiry even now. younger days, he must tale of ruin and brutality, that o feet; and his strong bony believe such events occurred in our own frame showed that at one time he had been a country within the last hundred and fifty years. sman of great strength. His was furrowed Nevertheless, it was so sorodu fons bours with wrinkles, and his head was covered with Not long ago, an incident occurred to me, when and the glance he directed at me was keen and a crop of snow-white hair. His eyes were gray, on a visit to a minister in Glen Isla, which told proud. In a shaky voice, he asked us to sit forcibly how deep the memories of that troubled down. time had sunk into the hearts of the people, and how even now the anger could flash from the eyes of old men, and the blood run warm in their veins, when recalling their own reminiscences. had returned from a day's fishing, had stowed away our rods and reels, and sat talking about the beauties of the Glen-its grand heather-covered mountains lit up by the setting sun, while the music of the rushing Isla sounded in our ears

[blocks in formation]

as it danced over its pebbly bed, or dashed against the big boulders which obstructed its course. Our conversation reverted to the inhabitants of the Glen; and my reverend friend informed me that a little way up there lived an old Highlander who could not be much less than ninety years old, and whose memory was still good; and that now and then, under certain circumstances, the old man would warm up and tell his tales of the old troubled days in his father's time, when Glen Isla and many another Highland valley was laid waste by a bloodthirsty soldiery.

[ocr errors][merged small]
[merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

his life was a more troubled one than yours has ever been; and indeed I have often wondered that he lived to such a good old age, for his stone says he was ninety-five when he fell asleep.'

The mention of his father's troubled life evidently affected him, and I could see the light gathering in the old man's eyes.

Father had a bad time o't, minister. maunna say too much before strangers.' "You need not be afraid, Alister; my can keep what he hears to himself, when sary.'

Much need, sir-much need. An idle has cost many a man his life before now.'

sword, and said: 'You shall not cross the bridge, I tell you. Come down from your horses one by one, and I will fight with you. Or come down, if you dare, two at a time, and I will fight with you. But you shall not cross the bridge!? My father stood there with his drawn claymore; and the dragoons were feared; they laughed a laugh of fear, and then they rode away again down the road; and my father stood there waitin'; friend but they never came back. Then my father came neces-back and put away his claymore.'

But I

word

My friend motioned me to keep quiet, for the old man was evidently beginning to waken up, and the cleverly directed questions were drawing him out gradually.

And so your father was ninety-five. Well, Alister, that is a good bit more than the allotted time of most men.'

"Deed, sir, it is that; and I whiles think it was fear that kept him living so long.'

"Fear, Alister! How do you make that out? I thought your father knew nothing about fear!' 'Fear, sir!' said the old man with a flash of fire kindling in his eyes-fear, sir! My father never knew fear; nor his father before him, nor any of his bairns. It was no the ordinary fear-it was fear that the dragoons should come again, and him not there to kill them that was the fear that kept father livin'!', The fire was ablaze now; the old man's blood was running warm, and his pulse beating quicker. It was a conflict between his undaunted Highland spirit and his years-a conflict in which old age for the time being was vanquished. The fountains of his memory were opened, and the old man's tongue was loosened.

Here the old man paused. Rising from his seat, he crept slowly to the door of the cottage, which he opened, and looked cautiously up and down the road. He then bolted the door of the room, and making a sign inculcating silence, he stood erect, and stretched his withered arm up to the rafters beneath the roof. From this hiding-place he pulled forth an old claymore, hacked and stained. This,' he said, holding out the weapon with trembling hand at arm's-length-this is my father's claymore. With this he fought at Culloden; and this he has plunged into the heart of many of the bloodthirsty loons who desolated our land; and this is the claymore which frightened away the dragoons from the bridge, and would have killed every one of them, if they had dared to cross.!'

The old man ceased speaking. He still stood tall and erect, with his snow-white locks falling on his shoulders, and the claymore trembling in his hand. His fiery spirit, which had sustained him during the time he was recalling the scenes of his youth, was yielding to his age; one more effort he made, and managed to put back the old claymore under the rafters; but his tough old frame was exhausted, and he sank back in his arm-chair by the fireside.

He told us how his father had been out in THE ART OF GOOD LIVING. the '45'-how he had fought at Culloden in the 'good cause-how he had been defeated-and IT is not in the newest work that one always how, as a fugitive, his father, with his own hand, finds the greatest interest, and a small octavo had slain his pursuers; and at length, wounded picked up at a bookstall has afforded us more and weary, he had reached the cottage where entertainment than we should probably have we now were. He told us how the vengeance- found in the latest addition to Mudie's welldealing soldiers and dragoons had followed him up, stocked shelves. The stall-keeper had evidently and how two of his brothers had been murdered formed a hasty judgment of the book, based in cold blood on the 'gowan brae' at the back on the two most prominent words of the title of the house; and how his father had to hide page, since he had carelessly thrown it into a in a cave away among the hills a cave into basket with a miscellaneous array of others, which he could only crawl backwards, and where attaching a label, "Theological Works, one shil his only sustenance for months was a skinful of ling each!' Taking up the book, curiosity was cold porridge, which his little daughter managed excited by noting that the volume was dedito convey from time to time to the neighbour-cated to the Right Worshipful the Court of hood of his hiding-place, choosing a different path Aldermen,' and that the author was described each time she went, so as to avoid detection. At as Fellow of the Beef-steak Club, and an length, he told us, the search was given up the soldiers were withdrawn; and more dead than alive, his father struggled back, to find his home made desolate, his kinsfolk slain, and starvation staring him in the face! Years passed away; but the poor people lived in constant dread of a return of the cruel soldiers; and one day many years afterwards, a detachment of dragoons was seen coming along the road towards the bridge. My father saw them comin'; and single-handed he went forth to meet them. He had put on his kilt, the wearing of which had been forbidden, and took his claymore with him. When the dragoons came to the bridge, my father drew his

יך

Honorary Member of several Foreign Picnics. Curious to see what such a writer could find to say on theology, especially to such patrons, we purchased the volume and bore it home for careful perusal. Further examination showed that the author, offered his book to the aforesaid Worshipful Court as a slight testimony of admiration for the capaciousness of their stomachs as well as of their under standings, and for the solidity of their heads as well as of their principles. After this, we were not unprepared for the racy morsels that awaited us in the volume itself, of which the full title is, Essays Moral, Philosophical, and

« PreviousContinue »