were anxious to replace the ancient coat of
mail which it has superseded on that
chivalrous bosom); and when you recover from
your first impression that it is a red, red
rose, or rose-bud more in fashion, you glow
with a perfect flush of satisfaction when you
find out, on closer inspection, that it is the
ribbon of the order, and that the dirty-looking,
haggard-faced, long-bearded, straggling-
haired wearer thereof is one of the celebrities
of France—a man honoured by a grateful
land—the prop and ornament of a loved and
patriarchal throne. Pewter and tape are the
two foundations on which the greatness of
our estimable neighbour is built; and while
these rather plentiful objects are obtainable
by payment or on credit, the prosperity of
the government is assured. The limited
number of the privileged orders has hitherto
in all countries been the source of their
danger. The thinly-spread planters in
Jamaica were at the mercy of their
multitudinous slaves; the few thousands of
Spartans secretly murdered their Helots,
when those oppressed individuals began to
perceive that their masters were not more
than one to ten; the cities of Italy looked
daggers at the high-nosed inhabitants of the
Seven Hills, who refused them—the millions
—the right of Roman denizenship. I myself
was once present at a country theatre where
there were only fourteen spectators in boxes,
pit, and gallery. The play was Julius Cæsar,
and at the speech of Antony there were eight-and-twenty indignant plebeians on the stage.
A slight sign of sibillation was made by a
drunken gentleman in the pit, and Cassius
came forward and said he and his companions
being evidently the majority, would certainly
not submit to the minority's impertinence;
whereupon, we yielded, and applauded with
all our might. Examples of this self-evident
fact might be heaped up from all history,
sacred and profane; but the trouble is needless.
When the majority, in addition to
physical force, has all the intellect and virtue of
the country on its side, it is the only legitimate
depository of power. The wearers of
the ribbon are the great majority in France
—they are all personages of intellect and
virtue; therefore, they are the legitimate
depositories of power. Not that in this
category I include the gallant little fellows
who have earned the military medal by
night-watches at Kamiesch and heroic rushes
at Alma and Inkermann. These are but proofs
that the old Gallic and Frankish blood flows
as hot and as freely as ever, and add nothing
(dangling on the breast of Zouave or chasseur)
to the political or intellectual catalogue
of France. No; it is our friends in seedy
black coats, or close-buttoned brown surtout:
the pamphleteer (on the right side), the
rentier, the horse-owner, the agent of the
bourse, the dealer in pickles and wax, the
hackney-coach proprietor, the speculator in
cast-off habiliments—in short, all the brain
and sentiment of the land which I allude to
—the grand civilian army of Aristideses and
Phocions, whose merits have been recognised
and rewarded by such an unmistakeable
outward and visible sign of superiority to all
their fellow-men.

I despond for England. I despond for
Europe—for what combination of states and
nations can resist an army as numerous as
that of Xerxes, and as self-devoted as Cocles
or Scævola?

Such, O reader! was the sad and
humiliating result of a week's residence in the
Hôtel de Louvre. France is the country
of great men. They encounter you everywhere.
I was received on my arrival by a
condescending gentleman who showed me into
the coffee-room, and, as he stepped forward
in a smiling manner to point to the bill of
fare, I perceived at the button-hole of his
coat—the mark, that he was not the
representative merely of the landlord of an inn,
but of the power and dignity of a nation.
This was my reception. On going away I
was politely accompanied into the court by
the chamberlain,—and modestly protruding
from his sinister bosom, there was also the
sign and seal of his country's admiration.
At Havre I was presented with my luggage-
ticket by a nobleman behind the counter,
from whose breast swung the same exalted
ensign,—and, with a feeling of dismay and
self-abasement, I took off my hat as I stepped
into the boat to the deputy-assistant-harbour-
master pro tem.—For on his expansive frontage
was also visible the token of virtue
rewarded.

PART THE SECOND.

I HAVE been six months in England—
whereof two in London, two at Bath, the
fifth at Snobston Priors, and the last at Stoke
Slavers,—and I am nearly ruined; but never
man was reduced to indigence in so noble a
cause. Patriotism is my weakness: England
with all thy faults I love thee still: but, if
advancement is made in the future, equal to
the progress thou hast achieved in the last
few years, thou wilt have no faults at all. I
—but that is nothing—shall be in the poor
house; my last shilling will have been
expended in the enlargement of thy glory, and
how sweet will the parish bread be to me,
when I reflect upon the majestic manner in
which my goods were spent! They were
spent in Testimonials.

Yes! tea-services by Hunt and Roskell;
portraits by Grant; bibles and prayer-books;
footstools embroidered in gold;
pearl-studded slippers; stop-watches and
massive seals; silver pencil-cases, writing-
desks, and library-tables; tankards with fifty
guineas in a purse; scholarships at schools
and colleges; portions of almshouses, and
wings of hospitals; marble busts, and even
good-sized estates in agricultural districts—
to all these I have contributed, and have had