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Mrs White, and heard the story told when they were present; at which time Mrs. White acknowledged "there was something in it."

THE LAST NIGHT OF THE GIRONDISTS.

Of all the prisons of Paris, the Conciergeric is the most interesting, from its antiquity, associations, and mixed style of architecture,―uniting as it were the horrors of the dungeons of the Middle Ages with the more humane system of confinement of the present century. It exhibits in its mongrel outline the progressive ameliorations of humanity toward criminals and offenders, forming a connecting link between feudal barbarity and modern civilization. Situated in the heart of old Paris, upon the Ile de la Cité, separated from the Scine by the Quai de l'Horologe, it is one of a cluster of edifices pregnant with souvenirs of tragedy and romance. These buildings are the Sainte Chapelle, the Prefecture de Police, and the Palais de Justice, formerly the residence of the French monarchs. The Conciergerie, which derives its name from concierge, or keeper, was anciently the prison of the palace. It is now chiefly used as a place of detention for persons during their trial. Recent alterations have greatly diminished the gloomy and forbidding effect of its exterior; but sufficient of its old character remains to perpetuate the associations connected with its former uses, and to preserve for it its interest as a relic of feudalism The names of the two turrets flanking the gateway, Tour de César, and Tour Boubec, smack of antiquity. Compared with Caesar, however, its age is quite juvenile, being less than nine hundred years.

The oldest legible entry in the archives of the Conciergerie is that of the regicide Ravaillac, who was incarcerated May 16, 1610. Among the memorable names on its register are those of Damiens, who attempted the life of Louis XV.; Eleonore Galigaï, the confidante of Marie de Medicis; La Voisine, the famous female poisoner, who succeeded Madame de Brinvilliers; Cartouche the noted robber, and high above them all in point

of tragic interest, the innocent and unfortunate queen, Marie Antoinette.

The records of this prison furnish extraordinary illustrations of stoicism in the midst of civil calamity, and its walls bear witness to almost inconceivable indifference to the mastery of violence. We know that there is no social upheaval to which human nature, with its versatility of powers for good or evil, may not become accustomed, and if the condition be inevitable, even become reconciled. But the conduct of the prisoners of the Conciergerie, in many instances, tinged as it was with mingled sublimity and folly, surpasses comprehension. During the Reign of Terror they were almost daily decimated by the guillotine; yet their constant amusement was to play at charades and the—guillotine. Both sexes and all ranks assembled in one of the halls. They formed a revolutionary tribunal-choosing accusers and judges, and parodizing the gestures and voice of Fouquier Tinville and his coadjutors. Defenders were named; the accused were taken at hazard. The sentence of death followed close on the heels of the accusation. They simulated the toilet of the condemned, preparing the neck for the knife by feigning to cut the hair and collar. The sentenced were attached to a chair reversed to represent the guillotine. The knife was of wood, and as it fell, the individual, male or female, thus sporting with their approaching fate, tumbled down as if actually struck by the iron blade. Often while engaged in this play, they were interrupted by the terrible voice of the public crier, calling over the "names of the brigands who to-day have gained the lottery of the holy guillotine."

But among the curious souvenirs of this celebrated jail, the most memorable is that of the last night of the Girondists, that unique festivity which was certainly the grandest triumph of philosophy in the annals of human events. Those fierce, theoretical deputies, who had so recently sent to the scaffold the King and Queen of France, were now in turn on their way thither. Christianity teaches men to live in peaceful humility, and to die

with hopeful resignation. The last hour of a true believer is calmly joyous. Here was an opportunity for infidelity to assert its superiority in death, as it had claimed for itself the greatest good in life. Let us be just to even these deluded men. They had played a terrible rôle in the history of their country, and they resigned themselves to die with the same intrepidity with which they had staked their existence upon the success of their policy. They made it a death fête, each smiling as he awaited the dread message, and devoting his latest moments to those displays of intellectual rivalry which had so long united them in life. Mainvielle, Ducos, Gensonné, and Boyer Fonfréde abandoned themselves to gayety, wit and revelry, repeating their own verses with friendly rivalry, and stimulating their companions to every species of infidel folly. Viger sang amorous songs; Duprat related a tale; Gensonné repeated the Marseillaise; while Vergniaud alternately electrified them with his eloquence, or discoursed philosophically of their past history, and the unknown future upon which they were about to enter. The discussion on poetry, literature, and general topics, was animated and brilliant; on God, religion, the immortality of the soul, grave, eloquent, calm and poetic. The walls of the prison echoed to a late hour in the morning to their patriotic cries, and were witnesses to their fraternal embraces. The corpse of Valazé, the only one of their number who by a voluntary death eluded the scaffold, remained with them.

The whole scene was certainly the wildest and most dramatic ever born of courage and reason. Yet throughout their enthusiasm there appears a chill of uncertainty, and an intellectual coldness that appals the conscience. We feel that for the Girondists it was a consistent sacrifice to their theories and their lives; but for a Christian and patriot, a sad and unedifying spectacle.

While history cannot refute the tribute of admiration to high qualities, even when misdirected, it is equally bound to record the errors and repeat the warnings of those who claim a place in its pages. The lives of the Girondists, as well as their deaths,

formed a confused drama of lofty aspirations, generous sentiments and noble sacrifices, mingled with error, passion and folly. Their character presents all the cold brilliancy of fire-works, which excite our admiration only to be chilled with disappointment at their speedy eclipse. Their death-scene was emphatically a spectacle. It exhibited neither the simple grandeur of the death of Socrates, nor the calm and trustful spirit that characterized the dying moments of Washington; the one yielding up his spirit as a heathen philosopher; the other dying as a Chris

tain statesman.

QUEEN ELIZABETH AND THE RING.

Concerning the love-token which Queen Elizabeth gave to Essex, with an intimation that if he forfeited her favor, its return would secure her forgiveness, Miss Strickland quotes the testimony of Lady Spelman, who says that when Essex lay under sentence of death, he determined to try the virtue of the ring, by sending it to the queen, and claiming the benefit of her promise; but knowing he was surrounded by the creatures of those who where bent on taking his life, he was fearful of trusting it to any of his attendants. At length, looking out of his window, he saw early one morning a boy whose countenance pleased him, and him he induced by a bribe to carry the ring, which he threw down to him from above, to the Lady Scrope, his cousin, who had taken so friendly interest in his fate. The boy, by mistake, carried it to the Countess of Nottingham, the cruel sister of the fair and gentle Scrope, and, as both these ladies were of the royal bedchamber, the mistake might easily occur. The countess carried the ring to her husband the Lord Admiral, who was the deadly foe of Essex, and told him the message, but he bade her suppress both. The queen, unconscious of the accident, waited in the painful suspense of an angry lover for the expected token to arrive; but not receiving it, she concluded he was too proud to make this last appeal to her tenderness, and, after having once revoked the warrant, she ordered the execution to proceed.

Multum in Parvo.

PRIOR, says Leigh Hunt, wrote one truly loving verse, if no other. It is in his Solomon. The monarch is speaking of a female slave, who had a real affection for him

And when I called another, Abra came.

Coleridge says that Noah's Ark affords a fine image of the world at large, as containing a very few men, and a great number of beasts.

The boxes which govern the world are the cartridge-box, the ballot-box, the jury-box, and the band-box.

There are certain things upon which even a wise man must be content to be ignorant. "I cannot fiddle," said Themistocles, "but I can take a city."

Sir Thomas Overbury said of a man who boasted of his ancestry, that he was like a potato-the best thing belonging to him was under the ground.

"Go and see Carlini" (the famous Neapolitan comedian), said a physician to a patient, who came to consult him upon habitual depression of spirits. "I am Carlini," said the man.

The words Abstemiously and Facetiously contain all the Vowels in consecutive order.

When Mr. Pitt's enemies objected to George III. that he was too young, his Majesty answered: "That is an objection the force of which will be weakened every day he lives."

Prayer moves the hand
That moves the universe.

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