not even a rehearsal to enliven it; or the
scaffolding of a mighty building without the
edifice rising before it. It is yet too early in
the year at present for the men to assemble
for summer drill. There it lies, inert and
straggling; a nuisance to the ground it
covers, by hindering the wholesome growth
of grass, to the detriment of cows and
sheep.

Although the outward panorama is more
inviting, let us enter the sleeping city of the
absent, and inspect the way in which this
awkward piece of mechanism is made to do
its fair-weather work. Not a cat, nor a sparrow,
nor a dog, nor a chicken, nor even a
stray cabbage-stalk, or tossed-out dust-heap
are to be seen, in evidence of human life and
society. Here is a sort of lane or opening,
leading apparently into one of the main
streets. But lo! after stepping forward two
or three paces, it appears that we, unseasonable
visitors, were neither quite alone, nor
unobserved. A door opens suddenly, and
out of one of the cannibal-like sheds a soldier
advances and makes us a bow. We return
the bow politely, and walk on, as if nothing
had happened. Upon which, the hero steps
before us and opens his mouth, to the effect
that "Monsieur is doubtless aware that entrance
to the camp is forbidden."

"Monsieur is a stranger, and is not aware
of anything of the kind. Monsieur will turn
back with pleasure" (since he cannot help it),
"though loath to leave such a cheerful village.
Pray, is it permitted to Monsieur to walk
round the outside of this lively scene?"

"Certainly; Monsieur is free to walk
round it, and outside, but Monsieur may not
enter it." More bows and salutations! I
never was so beautifully bowed out in my
life.

This is dull work; I have had quite enough
of it; and moreover, have seen quite as
much of the attractive spot as any reasonable
being, not a spy or a traitor, can
desire to become acquainted with. It is
nothing but an enormous shell without a
body; a lobster's claw with no muscle in it;
one of the tools for governing the world
which a great many people are getting tired
of using, especially as they confidently believe
that better implements are in existence.
Let us turn our backs on the courtly camp-keeper
and trot down the hill to that thrifty-looking
village yonder, whose buildings bestride
the course of the Aa, and rattle with
the sound of water-wheels.

There is something there to make up for
our disappointment. Read the address of
this note, which I happen to have brought:—
"To Monsieur Dambricourt, Wizernes." We
will step and deliver it forthwith. It procures
us bows and salutations; but admission
also, instead of right-about face.

We enter a light and airy apartment of
magic—a hall of wondrous metamorphoses—
down the centre of which flows an enchanted
stream, whose sources are a couple of monstrous
tubs partly hidden in the regions
above. Each tub is called an Agitator, from
some wooden arms which move within it. It
is a big-bellied receptacle, constantly in a
turmoil, with such a deal of splutter, and
splash, and noise, and thumping, that I could
not help thinking of the late Daniel O'Connell.
In its vast interior are stirred about the
materials which now constitute one of the
world's most available active powers—the
innocent-looking tissue which is familiar to the
public in general under the everyday name of
Paper, and for testimonies to whose efficiency
see the London journals passim. As Household
Words has already given an account of
the details of paper manufacture, I spare you
all the rag-picking and rag-clipping here, the
water-wheel of fifty horse power grinding up
old shirts and sheets by means of a cylinder
with fifty blades, till they become the finished
pulp or raffiné. I say nothing about testing
the fineness of the pulp in a basin of clear
water, of colouring it for fancy work, or leaving
it white for fact and fiction—I merely
wish to tell you, that by means of a modest
ten-horse power steam-engine, an enchanted
stream, flowing down a channel something
like a yard-and-a-half wide, was, by means of
air and water, by blowing up and pressing
down, by gauzes of wire and solid rollers,
changed in one minute from a fluid to a solid.
At second the first, particles of vegetable
fibre were floating loose in a liquid medium;
at second the sixtieth, they were woven compactly
into the convenient sheet on which I
now am writing, and were instantly cut by an
unseen knife into squares and oblongs of suitable
size. Nothing more was required to be
done but to examine and fold them, and,
in extraordinary cases, to press them, and
afterwards to pack and send them away.
Altogether, two hundred men, women, and
children find amusement, and something
better, in the service of this miraculous
stream.

Here, thought I, is a rival power to the
machinery we left at the top of the hill.
We have here an element which furnishes
weapons that may one day prevail over military
force. With a conscientious and industrious
pen, guided by an observant eye, with
a printing-press boldly and ably manned, and
an abundant supply of this suddenly-created
film, it is possible to make even Emperors
uneasy, and to cause such magnanimous
heroes as Haynau to fear they are not going
to have it all their own way. This moderate
establishment, backed by one or two others
of equal dimensions, analogically employed in
forging and sharpening the brilliant armour
of the brain, might make way, if there were
no others to help them, against the fiercest
autocrat in Europe. Their panoply is small,
but concentrated. One civilian can instruct
and persuade a hundred thousand armed
warriors, if they only be allowed to listen