not worth wishing for—into Sir Caribert's
hand; and then he cast his sunken eye
along its length in expectation of seeing the
heretical countenance of the indomitable
Luther: what was his delight to recognise
the graceful form of the little Italian
greyhound?—the trembling, pretty, active little
Venus, which he remembered so well? A
flush came to his cheek. For an instant he
made an effort even to speak; but his force
failed; an inarticulate moaning sound was
all he could produce, and the proud beauty
passed on, taking no further notice of his
surprise.

"By the eleven thousand slippers of Saint
Ursule and his friends," cried Francis, "the
false minx repents of her cruel disdain!"

"Pardon, majesty," said an old friend, the
bishop of Aigos Potamos, who was now
elevated to the rank of Patriarch of Baugle-
Cuddy (a very populous metropolis at the
southern extremity of Abyssinia), "Pardon,
majesty, there must have been twenty-two
thousand slippers in the glorious company
you mention—that is, if the amiable young
ladies had two feet apiece."

"And a slipper for each foot," added the
Vicompte de la Force, who had taken Saint
Marceau's place as acknowledged humourist
of the court.

"We are the most Christian king," said
Francis, with dignity, " and not a shoemaker;
but what we say is evident—the tyrant is
beginning to relent; she will give him her
hand ere long; she has given him the leading-
string already."

"And seems converted from the guidance
of Luther," said the patriarch; " so that an
orthodox prelate may show his limbs without
the chance of their being bitten by a
rebellious monk."

"But how will Sir Caribert be able to
make the responses? " inquired Ermengarde
de Coulanges. She had acted the Muse of
Comedy, and always smiled with her lips
apart (to show her beautiful teeth).

"By a nod," replied the patriarch; "for I
remember to have read, in a book of divinity,
that in the case of a blind horse—but to be
sure, Sir Caribert is not a horse, nor is he
blind—"

"You can say," suggested the Muse of
Comedy, in answer to her own question,
"a great many things by means of a smile."

"It shall not need," said Herminie herself,
who had overheard the conversation. " The
man I marry shall have the full use of his
voice, or how shall I be able to obey his
commands?"

"You obey? " inquired Francis, with a
malicious emphasis on the word.

''Aye, with more absolute subjection, if
possible, than my lover has shown to me."

"He has not disputed your orders; it all
exists in words," said De la Force.

"He will scarcely obey them at all,"
chimed in the king, " if you don't keep the
Duchess de Montmesnil out of his way. He
is devoted to historical investigations."

"Particularly in dark and obscure places,"
added the wit.

Herminie looked at the silent Sir Caribert
with a glow of tenderness in her expression,
such as had never been seen in it before.

"Caribert," she said, " do you care for the
Historic house?"

Sir Caribert shook his head in negation,
and lifted Venus in his arms. He pressed
the little dog to his breast.

"They don't know," she continued, " how
you have shown your right to command by
your having obeyed so well."

Sir Caribert looked with a flush of
expectation.

" They fancied," she went on, " that I had
lost my power over you, and that your heart
wandered to the duchess. Did it wander,
Caribert?"

Again the unfortunate man shook his head,
and clasped Venus closer to his heart.

"They thought that I did not recognise
your truth, your tenderness, your respect.
They fancied I was blind to all your qualities,
and that now that you are struck with so
sad a visitation—with the loss of speech—
that I leave you unpitied in your life of
silence. Is it so, Sir Caribert de Mont-
Chery?"

Again a shake of the head repudiated so
cruel a suspicion.

"And now," she said, "I have tried you,
and found you perfect at every proof. I have
found you loyal in a place where fidelity is
unknown. I have found you disinterested in
a place where selfishness is supreme. I have
found you trustful where appearances might
lead you to doubting love. My lord, sir!
take it to your lips. Herminie d'Evreux is
yours."

She looked round proudly while Sir
Caribert, on his knee, covered her white hand
with kisses.

" And the man is dumb! " said Francis, in
a sad tone, " 'tis pity you did not take
compassion on him before."

"Are you dumb, Sir Caribert?" said
Herminie. " Speak, dearest! Tell them it
was to try your constancy I condemned you
to the trial."

And Sir Caribert spoke; and the first
word he said was " Wife."

THE NORTH AGAINST THE SOUTH.

Is it not the poet Wordsworth who tells
us, that "the towns in Saturn are ill-built?"
We know not, however, what authority he
had for the assertion, apart from his own
imagination. We may be sure that he would
not, like a prosaic Swedenborg, have
pretended to a special revelation, or spiritual
visit, for his instruction on that specific
topic. An elder poet, accepted by Wordsworth
as a model, has described the sides