column of the old boa-constrictor of the
eocene period. One of these included thirteen
vertebrae, retaining their natural manifold
and complex articulations, and must have
belonged to a serpent more than fifteen feet
in length. There is not, perhaps, any of the
animal remains in this locality which testifies
more strongly to the former warmth of the
climate of the latitude of Kent than the old
Sheppey constricting snake called Palæophis
toliapicus. From Hensbrook we went our
way along the summit of the cliff towards
Warden, calling at every cottage we passed,
and gathering as we went until we arrived at
Warden Point. At this part there are some
dwellings of labourers that work upon the
beach—said abodes being located with enough
of regularity, and in a soil which justifies the
tempting title of Mud Row, by which the
nucleus of a hamlet is known, and by which
name the cottages should be inquired for by
the inexperienced explorer of Sheppey.
Beyond this point he will ask and search in
vain for any fossils; but here the collectors
commonly offer a rich harvest of remains for
his selection.

We were rewarded by finding among the
hundreds of parts of fossil fishes and crustaceans
a small but characteristic part of the
skeleton of the extinct vulture of Sheppey
(Lithornis vulturinus), and a portion of jaw,
with teeth, and two vertebræ of that
remarkable quadruped, somewhat between the
modern hog and hippopotamus, which Owen
has called the Hyrcotherium.

Heavily laden with primeval treasures, we
now began our return, and, avoiding the ups
and downs of the undulating cliffs, we made
the best of our way by the road that runs
through the most level part of the country to
Sheerness.

Here we were welcomed by our companion,
who had finished a little sooner his geological
observations, and were assured by him that
the fat goose which we had picked up at
Leadenhall Market, en route to the Sheerness
packet, was done to a turn, and only waited
our arrival to be served up. To the wise this
hint will suffice; with all its merits, the
Wellington, at the dead season, may be able
to afford but homely fare to the unexpected
tourist, and the worthy landlady will most
gladly apply her best culinary skill on any
good "provend" that a disciple of Major
Dalgetty may have had the forethought to
bring with him.

UNHAPPINESS IN THE ELYSIAN
FIELDS.

EVERY Sunday afternoon during the spring
of eighteen hundred and fifty-six, Parisians
taking their habitual walk in the Champs
Elysées, might have observed the huge green
gate of a mansion situated on the right
hand side, more than half-way up from the
Place de la Concorde towards the Barrière de
l'Etoile. It bore the number seventy-eight.
For years previously, observers had been
struck with the sombre appearance of this
mansion. Its huge green gate was never
opened, although flanked by two porters'
lodges; the shutters of which were always
closed. An eccentric notice was painted
in black letters beside the gate: "Persons
who wish to leave cards and letters are
requested to put them into the box and
ring loudly, as the porter is far from here."
Through the iron railing and across the
adjoining garden, the mansion itself was seen:
a large building with many windows all shut,
looking like a prison. It was the hôtel of the
late Countess de Caumont-Laforce, a lady
bearing an historical title among the nobility
of France.

The dukes of Caumont-Laforce were
formerly distinguished among the Protestant
nobility of France; and incidents connected
with them will be remembered as long as the
Bartholomew massacre and the Dragonnades
of Louis the Fourteenth. Voltaire, in his
Henriade, mentions the wonderful escape of
one of the De Caumonts, in the massacre.

The dukes of Caumont-Laforce were
reunited to the Roman Catholic church, a
century afterwards, by Louis the Fourteenth.
Madame Scarron—the widow of a loose poet
—was employed by the Jesuits to frighten
the remorseful soul of this ruthless king into
great professions of piety, into the revocation
of the edict of Nantes, and into measures for
effecting the forcible re-union of Protestants
with the Roman Catholic church. The king
deigned to talk to the Duke de Caumont-
Laforce about his conversion. When talking
would not do, he confined him to one of his
estates, and deprived him of his children, by
confiding their education to one of their
Roman Catholic relatives. After some months
of resistance the duke feigned submission;
but, a will having been found by the royal
spies which proved that his profession was
insincere, the duke and duchess were
confined for two years in the Bastile. The
duke issued from it to make an abjuration
of his faith, while the firmer duchess came
out of prison a stauncher Protestant than
ever. During the remaining years of the life
of the duke, the king planted upon them a
police spy and a Jesuit priest, who lived
continually in their apartments, and had authority
to enter their nuptial chamber by day
and by night, to prevent the Protestant wife
from speaking a single word about religion
to her perverted husband. Fifteen days
prior to the death of the duke she was
separated from him entirely, lest she might prompt
him to express his real sentiments in his last
moments. His noble widow died in want and
exile in England. The young Duke de
Caumont-Laforce, educated by his Roman Catholic
relatives, was reconciled to the Church,
and figures among the persons described by
Molière: "These fellows, I say, whom we see,