police agent, who, while he was being strapped
to the plank, still urged him to confessions. He
died first.

Morey then ascended, calm and imperturbable;
the plank went down, the old man's neck was
clipped. by the lunette—- a second head rolled
into the sawdust.

Fieschi said to the people that he had told
the truth, and died without fear. Fieschi left
his head to Nina Lassave, in order that she
might benefit by the sale of plaster casts taken
from it. The doctor who had healed Fieschi's
wounds opened the skull to see how the cure
had operated. The poor girl Nina was hired a few
days after as dame du comptoir in the Café de
la Renaissance, in the Place de la Bourse.
There, in flame-coloured satin and with rich
ornaments in her hair, the miserable creature
sat, at a salary of one thousand francs a month.

The cafe was daily thronged by unfeeling
idlers, who launched at her cruel sarcasms,
reproaches, and disgusting ribaldry, until Nina
often fainted, and was carried out of the
room. When she returned and resumed her
seat, she used to pathetically entreat that sport
might not be made of her misfortunes. She is
described as a rather pretty mild one-eyed girl,
with a vulgar expression, and with two fingers
eaten off her right hand by scrofula.

The massive oak frame of the infernal machine,
with its split gun-barrels may still be seen at
Madame Tassaud's, that indefatigable old lady
having instantly pounced on the relic of a
remarkable crime.

The infernal machine was not an original
thought of Fieschi's, for, in the year 1789, a
watch maker named Brillon, being expelled from
the Arquebusiers' Company at Senlis, determined
on revenge. He fired a train of gunbarrels
at the procession as it passed his window,
shot a man who broke into his barricaded
room, and then blew up the house with all who
were in it. The only man who escaped was the
soldier who tried to drag him out, and he had
twenty wounds, an eye knocked out, and a knee-
pan broken.

METAPHOR AND ALLEGORY.

METAPHOR is essentially the language of the
poet. Allegory is a twin-sister. They are the
Leah and Rachel of holy writ.

About the hour,

As I believe, when Venus from the east
First lighten'd on the mountain—-she whose orb
Seems always glowing with the fire of love,
A lady young and beautiful, I dream'd,
Was passing o'er a lea; and as she came,
Methought I saw her, ever and anon,
Bending to cull the flowers; and thus she sang:
"Know ye, whoever of my name would ask,
That I am Leah: for my brow to weave
A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply.
To please me at the crystal mirror, here
I deck me. But my sister Rachel, she
Before her glass abides the livelong day,
Her radiant eyes beholding, charm'd no less
Than I with this delightful task—- her joy
In contemplation, as in labour mine."

Leah, the daughter of Laban, Jacob's first
wife, represents active life; she wreathes a
chaplet of flowers as a recompense for good
works on earth. Her sister Rachel, Jacob's
second wife, represents a life of contemplation.
The mirror she looks into is that of knowledge.

In metaphor, Ossian stands foremost amongst
our own poets. German and Italian poets are
rich in metaphor. Schiller is a master-hand.
The last lines of " The Power of Song," and
the opening lines of " Woman's Worth," are
amongst the finest specimens extant. The
following, also by Schiller, is graceful:

"This day five thousand years ago, Jupiter
feasted the immortal gods on the Olympian
Mount. As they sat down to the festive board,
the right of precedence was contested by three
daughters of Jupiter. VIRTUE claimed pre-
cedence of LOVE; Love refused to yield the
place to Virtue, and FRIENDSHIP claimed a
higher seat than either. All heaven took an
interest in the contention, and the claimants
approached the throne of Saturn.

"There is but one claim to distinction in
Olympus," said the son of Chronos, " and but
one law to judge the gods. The highest seat
is due to her who has contributed most to the
happiness of man."

"The victory is mine!" said Love, in a
voice of triumph. " My sister Virtue cannot
grant her favourites a greater reward than me;
and as to the happiness I give to man, let Jupiter
and all the immortal gods here present answer
for me."

"And how long do thy joys last?" said
Virtue, with an earnest voice. " Whomsoever
I cover with my invulnerable shield may laugh
at Fate, to whom even the immortals pay homage.
If thou callest the gods to witness, I can do
the same. The son of Saturn is mortal as soon
as Virtue leaves him."

Friendship stood aloof and was silent. " And
thou, my daughter; hast not thou a word to
say?" said Jupiter. " What canst thou offer to
thy favourites?"

"Nothing of the sort," said the goddess,
and she wiped a tear from her blushing cheek.
"When they are happy they forget me; in
sorrow they seek comfort from me."

"Be reconciled, my children," said the father
of the gods: " this is the noblest quarrel it has
ever been my lot to decide. Neither of you
has lost. My daughter Virtue will teach
constancy to Love; and Love will not smile on
mortal unless Virtue bid her do so. Friendship
will embrace you both, and be the pledge
of your lasting union."

In his great poem The Artists, Schiller
compares the life of a man to an arch; that is to
say, to an imperfect portion of a circle which is
continued through the night of the tomb to
complete the circle. The young moon is such an arch;
the remainder of the circle is not visible. He
places two youths side by side, the one with a
lighted torch, the other with his torch
extinguished. He compares the former to that portion