she could not say what, nor to be paid how
or when; but who looked and spoke as if she
would have given six times six thousand
francs to be six leagues away, or to make the
witness-chair sink gently with her weight
six feet beneath the stage, into the cave
below. "Take off your glove, madam," said
the president, as she advanced, half-fainting,
to give evidence. "Lift your hand higher,
madam;" when ordered to tell the truth,
she replied, "I swear." "Speak louder,
madam; I cannot hear you;" when her
voice failed, and her memory also. It is a
sad thing to see a woman self-accused as the
tool of an  artful man in a shabby affair.
Porters and carters also deposed to the transfer
of certain bags of coffee from Levendeur's
warehouse to Rougepain's camp-store. It
was droll that the bags should be laid in the
carts with their names and numbers downwards;
droll, too, that the hour selected for
delivery should be the soldiers' breakfast
time, when the men were all absent from the
manutention; not droll that, at the second
delivery, the porters should prefer to arrive
at that hour, to escape being insulted by the
military.

Those of our readers who feel surprised
that so much fuss should be made about
coffee, should remember that coffee is, to
Frenchmen in general, what tea and gin are
to the London charwoman, what his bottle
of port is to the English squire, what
his drop of whisky is to the Irishman or
Scotchman, what his porter is to the bricklayer's
hodman. We never drink healths in
tea; the French often pledge each other in a
cup of coffee, of course with the gloria of
brandy in it. If you wanted your harvest-men
to get in your corn in good condition, and not
be nice about working over-hours, would you
mix nauseous substances with their harvest-ale?
And if you were placed at the head of
the French empire, requiring your troops to
fight a good campaign, would you allow Levendeurs
and Rougepains to compel them to
wash down their rations with detestable or
odious coffee?

The procureur-imperial seemed to be of
opinion that you would not think of doing
any such thing, nor advise its being done; for
he first called on the military sub-intendant,
in his embroidered uniform and parti-coloured
sash, to take his seat on the evidential
throne, and explain to the jury what were
the duties of ofliciers comptables in general;
—whether amongst them be included the
pouring out of nauseous coffee from polluted
biggins, even to oblige a friend by a disinterested
exchange, through the agency of obliging
widows at Dunkerque, or elsewhere. The
military sub-intendant seemed to be labouring
under the prejudice that, considering the
moral responsibility of officiers comptables,
the fidelity expected from them, the honourable
position they hold, the handsome pay they
receive, and the circumstance that all losses fall
—not on themselves, but on the government—
they are bound to ascertain that every article
received for military use is good, and that
none but good articles are distributed to the
men. Certainly, that they have no right to
exchange good for bad.

"And then," insisted the procureur, in the
most malignant hard-mouthed way," if
that coffee had been sent to the Crimea, what
would have been the consequence?" He
could not get that idea out of his head, but
enlarged upon it repeatedly. It showed that,
however learned in the law, the procureur
was ignorant of contemporary history, which
proves that there is something in the Crimean
air that enables an army to go without—
not coffee merely, but many other things.
"What would have been the disastrous
result," he vehemently inquired, "if those
two accused persons—traitors to the state
- traitors to the soldier!"—pointing to them
with a vibrating forefinger, looking at them
as if they had been a couple of toads, and
speaking in a tone of scorn which ought only
to be used towards the vilest of the vile,—
"what would have been the unhappy result,
if the execrable coffee substituted by the two
accused for the good coffee of the State, had
gone to the army before Sebastopol?"
Rougepain covered his face with his
handkerchief, and wept away even more profusely
than before; Levendeur looked down at the
floor, and could not look up again for some
little time.

There were plenty of witnesses; they had
answered to their names from various parts
of the court before the trial began; and were
then shut up in their place of retirement, till
they were produced—one by one—by the
huissiers, as wanted. Many of them came to
speak to Levendeur's "commercial morality;"
and as each witness makes his statement,
without being led on by questions
from counsel, as with us, some of them
indulged in pretty long discussions in a
conversational tone and manner, and gave
biographical memoirs, that would make a nice
little pamphlet each. No doubt, a certain
personage may be painted blacker than he is;
but, "See how he dresses him up!" was the
remark made by my little bird, when a witness
took a moment's breath in the midst of
an eulogistic flourish. The president heard all
with great patience, kindly refreshing the
memory of those who had not their depositions
well by heart. Then came the struggle
of the advocates, of whom I will only say
that whatever fees they got were richly
earned by the exercise of their most sweet
voices.

As national peculiarities, there may be
signalised the reception of hearsay evidence;
the reading of written testimonials, even from
deceased persons, in favour of the accused
Rougepain; the droll attitudes, such as stooping
to the ground; the hand-clappings, violent
gestures and tones of voice; the trembling