"Indeed you must not suppose I have become
a man of fashion, or an epicurean, cousin William;
or that I would not rather—far rather—spend an
evening with you than at any of these fine places.
I am so very sorry I cannot come to you before
Monday."

"Monday will be quite soon enough, my dear
Saxon," replied Mr. Trefalden, kindly; "and I
am glad to see you so well amused. At eight
o'clock, then?"

"Yes, at eight. You will see how punctual I
shall be—and you must give me some good
advice, cousin William, and always tell me of my
faults—won't you?"

"Humph! That will depend on circumstances,
and yourself. In the mean while, don't buy any
more diamond bracelets without first inquiring
the price."

MODERN TORTURE.

THE history of the last revolutionary movement
in Germany, of which the year 1848 is
the type, may be given in few words. When
Louis Philippe's throne was tottering under him,
the excitement prevalent in France rapidly
spread beyond the Rhine, and the German
nations raised their voices for "Liberty of the
Press," "Trial by Jury," "Regulation of the
Suffrage Laws," &c. &c., all of which were at first
haughtily refused, and afterwards, when
demanded at the point of the sword, most abjectly
granted by the rulers. For a time the German
leaders had it all their own way; the people
stood by them with their lives and their possessions,
and the kings were either powerless or
altogether dethroned; but instead of acting
with energy and promptitude, the leaders talked
and theorised, wrote pamphlets and made
speeches, as has been the way of Germans from
time immemorial. Meanwhile, the kings and
their adherents promised, lied—lied and
promised again—above all, took their measures
according to a well-laid plan, and in the end
were completely victorious "by the grace of
God." A reaction took—or seemed to take
—place; the best among the patriots, as
honest and true men as the world ever saw,
were beheaded or imprisoned, and the nation
went once more to sleep in its chains, apparently
not to be roused again but by some strong
outward impulse, having gained nothing but bitter
experience, in spite of all the bloodshed and all
the noble devotion and self-sacrifice.

Mr. Röckel's book, Sachsen's Erhehung und
das Zuchthaus zu Waldheim, which is creating
a sensation in the "Fatherland," treats of
the revolution in Saxony and of the author's
prison life at "Schloss Waldheim." He left
Aix-la-Chapelle, where he had been implicated
in the quarrels between Roman Catholics and
Protestants, when a mere student, and in
1830 arrived in Paris in time to be a witness
of the July Revolution, and to become personally
acquainted with Lafayette, Lafitte, and
other leaders of the Revolution. In 1832 he
came to England, where he learned from the
grand Reform movement how the mightiest
state changes can be easily and peacefully
effected if the government will only understand
its position as the servant of the state, and
honestly endeavour to do its duty in that
capacity.

But the pain he felt at the contempt with
which his nation was looked upon in these
foreign countries, combined with his ardent
love for his own country, made him return to
Germany in the year 1838; and ten years later,
in 1848, we find him in the capacity of
sub-conductor at the Royal Opera at Dresden, and
amongst the defenders of the barricades. He
had previously, when the question of arming the
people was first raised, written a pamphlet on
the subject, which brought him into very bad
odour with the government, and even procured
him a short imprisonment, from which he had
only been released upon a bail of ten thousand
thalers being paid by an unknown friend. When
fighting on the barricades, which appeared too
low and inefficient against the advance of the
king's troops, he had suggested the use of pitch-rings,
which should be placed on the top of the
barricades and set fire to, in case the soldiers
came too near—a proposal that was first adopted
by the provisionally government, and then, when
Mr. Röckel and his assistants had just
commenced the manufacture of the pitch-rings,
countermanded by it, and abandoned by them.
But the possible mischief those pitch-rings might
have done—for it was afterwards asserted that
they were to have set fire to the king's palace,
and had done so to the Opera House—which
had been burnt down three days before the
pitch-rings had ever been thought of—these
pitch-rings, that had been nipped in the bud, and
the above-mentioned pamphlet, formed the
principal accusations at his trial.

On the 7th of May, 1849, intelligence was
received by the provisionary government at
Dresden that considerable reinforcements had
arrived at a neighbouring village, who demanded
to be safely conducted into the town. Mr.
Röckel undertook to be their guide, but fell
into the hands of the enemy's outposts, and was
made prisoner in the attempt.

"Although unarmed," writes Mr. Röckel,
"and perfectly unknown, and therefore not
even to be considered as an enemy, but only as
a simple wanderer, I was, on the way to the
powder-magazine, in the presence of the officers,
and without their making any effort to protect
me, struck in the face by some of the soldiers,
and pushed and knocked' about with the butt-ends
of their muskets by others. Arrived at the
magazine, I was pushed into a large room, where
I found already about fifty prisoners assembled.
They emptied my pockets, and in consequence
of some papers they had found in them, I was
taken to the commanding colonel. Here, where
none but officers were present, and under the
very eyes of their superiors, the younger ones
emulated the example of the soldiers by trying