can study his profile. His high forehead bestows
a look of power and intellect. No wonder that
his personality should have inspired feelings of
mingled admiration, reverence, and awe, or that
his people should have looked upon him,
alternately, as a beneficent or an avenging spirit.
The expression of the face— afterwards seen
under various aspects— is calm, very calm, far
too calm for real beauty: and so it remains, even
when the lips smile with so much grace and
blandness. But what chiefly mars the expression
of the face is that cold, chilly, frosty, blue eye,
which others have called "mild." If it really
be as " mild as moonbeams," it must be those
moonbeams which glance sharply and cuttingly
upon the ice-blocks of the Neva. The Emperor
Nicholas is said to have been a man of strong
family affection, and, in moments of festive relaxation,
of "infinite jest." But, surely, that eye
must have frozen all warmth of love, and given
to. the joke the air of chilling irony. His
movements, as he shortly rises, are full of admirable
dignity, and even of grace, spite of the tight
prison of uniform. The prestige he influenced
was naturally great. Nature had vied with
destiny to place him on a lofty pinnacle. But
was that uncommon form to represent the type
of an Archangel or a Lucifer?

The service in the chapel-pavilion is concluded.
The emperor rises from his kneeling position.
At the same moment, the thick groups of officers
on the steps, the overwhelming masses of men
upon the plain, rise also. This simultaneous
movement has an effect upon the nervous system,
still more exciting and inspiring than that of the
prostration. The emperor now turns, faces the
plain, and bows several times, with a wave of
the hand, to the army below, to the assembled
people around. The cheers are deafening, and
roll like thunder over the plain. The mass of
uniforms upon the steps divide to form a central
avenue. The emperor descends the steps, followed
by his brother Constantine, Prince Karl of
Prussia, and the others of his military court—
according to rank. He mounts his horse again
— the others follow his example— the great
review commences.

Military manoeuvres and reviews have a great
similitude in all countries. On this occasion,
the evolutions are gone through with precision
and effect. The whole body of the troops is
passed in review, first in slow, then in quick
time. The movement of these immense masses
of men have a dazzling and giddy effect. The
whole earth, before the spectators' eyes, seems
moving on and on, until his brain whirls, and he
fancies he must inevitably be swept onwards in
the movements, and fixes his feet more firmly to
the earth, which appears to be slipping from
him. There seems to be but one thought uppermost
in the minds of all. Around the foreigner are
murmured the words: " How does the emperor
look? Does he smile? Will he be pleased?"
How much evidently depends upon the despot's
satisfaction or dissatisfaction at the moment. I
catch sight of the unseemly face of the Grand-
Duke Constantine. A deep scowl renders it
even more hideous than usual. Have things gone
awry? I begin to share in the anxious feelings
expressed around me. It is so easy to be led away
by the sentiments of the congregated mass. But
no! The emperor has smiled. He waves his
hand graciously. He probably expresses his
satisfaction. Cheers burst forth again from the
army, and are echoed by the masses of spectators
on the hill. The autocrat has smiled, ard all
appears to be delight! The great business of
the day is over. The emperor dismounts, enters
a small open carriage with only two horses,
accompanied by the Grand-Duke Constantine,
and dashes furiously forwards. He bows,
however, gracefully on all sides. Constantine still
scowls. When and how were they to meet that
army again? In a few months a revolution
would burst forth in Poland; and the Emperor
Nicholas could but confess, that its main cause
was the tyranny of the grand-duke.

At no great distance to the west of the city of
Warsaw was a considerable open space, which
some years previously had been first appropriated
to the formation of a large camp, occupied,
during the summer season, by the regiments of
Polish and Russian infantry that were garrisoned
in Warsaw or stationed in the neighbourhood—
the officers living in cottages and huts, kept in
repair during the whole year— the soldiers using
tents pitched each season for the purpose.

This camp covered a great circular tract of
land; and the visitor, on whatever side he might
arrive, after passing the several scattered
outposts, came, first, upon a portion of a broad belt
of open space, surrounding the whole camp, and
serving as the ground for drills, parades, small
manoeuvres, and reviews, and the daily exercises
of public worship for each regiment, according
to the portion it skirted. The great outer circle
of the whole encampment was formed by this
open belt; the next circular belt within was
covered by the tents of the soldiers, arranged
with the nicest regularity, each tent rising only
like a light roof above the soil, the height of the
interior being obtained by an excavation of the
round about three feet deep, and affording resting
and sleeping places for ten or a dozen men.
To each, a gentle slope led down at the gable end
facing the exterior of the circle, and could only
be entered in a crouching position. These
myriads of white sail-cloth tenements, which
stood three deep, were separated from each
other by narrow footpaths. At intervals a
broader species of street afforded access to
various subdivisions; and a still broader space
sundered each tented village from a similar one
belonging to another regiment.

Within this thickly-dotted circle, and filling
its whole interior, was a large wood of acacias,
which, upon the first establishment of the camp,
had been planted with great care and pains, under
the direction of the officers then garrisoned at