DECAYED STATESMANSHIP. From tin* Washington I'oat. Tlmt remarkable speech of Mr. Conkling, in which lie assumes, as the basis of bw argument, that the various States and sections contribute to the support of the Government in propor tion to the amount of their customs and internal revenue collections, is still being circulated by the half mil lion, along with the cipher telegrams. I The great State of New ork ought , to be ashamed of a distinguished Sena tor who has perpetrated such transpa rent folly. We suppose the late A. , T. Stewart paid mure important du titv, for many years, than any other six men in the United States, but Mr. Stewart did not contribute heavily to the support of the General Govern-! meut, because he was a prudent inau ' and used but few costly foreign goods. Many a dashing widow, with an in come of 810,000 a year, helped the Government more than he did with all his millions. Two citizens of ludiuna, who own and operate the largest distillery in .the I nited States —the largest on the globe, in fact —are now paying more motley into the Treasury than any other hundred thousand men in that State, except distillers. Hut as these gcutlemcu are tent|ierute and thrifty, r it happens that many a day laborer who drinks and smokes actually con tributes more than they to the support of the Government. Mr. Conkling knows that the consumer and not the importer or producer pays the tax, iu the end. And yet he deliberately built up a so-called argument on the assumption that the locality where the tax is collected pays the tax. It was an insult to popular intelligence that has rarely been paralleled. Hut this argument is now being printed in im mense editions, ami sent all over the North, East and West, to inflame the public mind against the Southern jieople. it is humiliating to think that the author of this puerile trash, the pro pagator of such shallow sophistry, is a leader of a party, and has been talk ed of as a candidate for the Presi dency. For although Mr. Conkling is not so asinine as to believe his own .-illy attempt at argument, he is weak ami small enough to assume that others will believe it, and he is dis honest enough to desire to take ad vantage of assumed ignornnce. In nil seriousness and candor wc a-k anv honest Republican—the masses of all parties are honest —what he thinks of a man in Mr. Conkling'* position, the senior Senator of the Empire State, a long time leader in his party, a man who lias been regarded as really a statesman, who gets down so far into the ilirt of deinagoguery as to con struct a fallacy like the one wc are considering, and, presuming on popu lar ignorance and the influence of his name, semi it forth to the people as a campaign document? Hut this presumption on popular ignorance is not confined to Mr. Conk ling. It has come to be the habit of " statesmen" of the Radical faith. The history of the extra session shows • this in a striking light. With jxissi- Idy three exceptions, all the Radical speakers appealed to passion and pre judice. The Democracy dealt in calm reason, ami addressed their appeals to the intelligence and honesty of the country. The Republicans evaded fair discussion and, instead of attempt ing to meet argument with argument and answer fact with facts, stirred up the embers of sectional hatred, ami with the hot breath of anger tried to re-kindle the flames of passion that burned low a dozen years ago. It i. the verdict of candid men, who arc not hide-hound partisans, hut try to see things pretty much as they arc, that the country never before witness ed such degeneration of bruins and such prostitution of statesmanship, n* were shown by the Radical leaders in lmth cuds of the Capitol during the entire session. From licginning to end there was no serious effort to an swer the Democratic statesmen, or to show a single good reason why ull that they demanded should not be done. < 'handler's furious foaming and frothy tirade of last Monday is an epitome of the entire del>ate on his side. Hlaim'i Conkling, Garfield and their followers furnished every jKtint, ami the muddling Michigan mountebank arrayed their point* in his hideous English, and let it loose on the country, after being duly trimmed by the re porters. The people cannot help seeing and believing in the dreary decadence of Republican statesmanship. The peo ple will not be dragged backward nnlf a generation, and compelled to dig in the mouldy graveyard of dead issues. They will not admit thnt the hanging of John Brown furnishes a good rea son for troop* at the f*>ll*. They will not concede that the firing on Humpter is ample justification for the appoint ment ami maintenance, at the public expense, of a Radical electioneering corps. They will not admit that the suppression of an armed rebellion furnishes justification for peaceful revolution and the establishment of minority government. The masse* are not the dumb, driven cattle that Conk ling et al. assume them to be. They are fit for sclf-govcrnincnt; therefore they will remit such presumption on their ignorance as ha* marked the en tire Radical programme for the jmst three months, and, resenting it, will throw off the leadership of men who have demonstrated their incapacity to grasp living issues. (JITNTNE. From th New York Quinine, which lias just been made free of duty —never ugain, probably, and never, let u* Impc, to have it* cost increased by a customs tax —is in tiic modern practice of medicine probably the most valuable of all remedial drugs at the command of the physi eain. Mercury—much abused by some quacks, and much villified by others, hut a priceless specific—and opium are it* chief rivals, hut it may he doubted whether, as it is now used, (piinitio does not hear the palm, even in com parison with those great staples of the pharmacopeia. Wo say as now used, tor the virtues of quinine were not | really known to physicians of the past \ generation—hardly suspected by tlicni 1 —and their use of it was timid as well a* restricted. Readers of old novels ; and diaries will remember records of patients taking "hark," or "port wine and hark." This was the old way of j taking quinine, which is the active principle of the hark of the cinchona, known us Peruvian hnrk. All our readers may not remember the story that the virtues of the berk of 111 i-; tree in periodic malarious fevers were discovered by the so-called Indians of lYru, where such fevers greatly pre vail in their most destructive form, and where the inhabitants found that those who drank of the waters of a certain pool were cured of the fever, or protected against it, the reason be ing, a* was discovered, that brandies of this tree fell into the jkhil, ami lay there steeping and impregnating its waters with tln-ir febrifugal qualities. The truth of this story is doubted, and it lias even been denied that the Peru vians knew of the medicinal use of this hark. The way in which our grandfathers and grandmothers avail ed themselves ot its curative power* was by taking it in hulk, ground fine and mixed with port wine. The reme dy i< invaluable, hut the "nnwa a somewhat repulsive one, ami from its consistence, if not from its ta.-te, it "stuck in the throat of the taker." Large and frequent doses, too, were required to get a thoroughly remedial elicet from the medicine in this crude state. "H. 15.," the great Kngli-h caricaturist of forty or fifty years ago, represented a servant coining in with a message from his master to a fellow lodger, Is'gging him to quiet his dog. "Dog!" is the reply. "I've no dog. My medical man told me to drink j>rt wine ami bark. And so (sips wine) bow, wow, wow !" The change in medicinal practice produced by the comparatively recent discovery of the active principle of the hark in certain alkaloid salts was very great, arid the efficacy of the drug, a* well as the convenience of taking it, was largely increased. Hut, as we have before remarked, the use of qui nine was timid, and the range of its curative power was siip|>osed to lc re stricted. It* ue was confined almost entirely to case* of jjgriodii nl fever, and it was given in dose# of from two to three grains three times a day. It was taken, t(*>, with apprehension of disagreeable uud even very injurious consequence#, Irecnuse its use was some time# followed by a sense of buzzing in the head nnd singing iu the tars. Its use, however, increased steadily, and it became, as it must needs have become, the one great remedy against that mast widely-diffused of all en demic diseases, fever ami ague, the "tertian ague" of our forefathers. Against this it is a specific, aud to all intent* and purpose#, an unfailing remedy, the number of ease# that re sist a course of quinine, faithfully fbl | lowed and continued for twenty-one days, lcing practically inconsiderable. Hut physicians nowadays deal with this beneficent drug with little fear. , It is not uncommon to give doses of ten grains three times a day, making thirty grains in the twenty-four hours, instead of the six or nine of our fath ers' days; nor is it found that dis agreeable consequences manifest them selves in this treatment in a greater degree or more frequently than they did in tin? more timid exhibitions of the drug in past year*. Indeed, some intelligent physicians have inclined to the opinion that these consequence* are the result of insufficient doses, and are the signs of an incomplete cure. However thi* may lie, quinine is now piven with beneficent effect and with impunity as to consequences, in doses thnt would have frightened the medi cal men of the Inst generation, and ease* of quinine poisoning stem to lie rarer than they were formerly. It is, however, in the range of its efficacy that the great advance lias been made in the use of quinine, and that advance ha* lieen within very late years. It has come greatly into use in neuralgia and all nervous, hysterical and spasmodic diseases. It is used to break up periodicity in disease# of all sort*. It is found to be nil invaluable prophylactkfor preventive in influen za or cold in the head. It is used with great effect in certain cases of hypochondria, melancholia, and of late ha* even come into favor as a wash for what is called "external use," although for internal cr, In - cause it eatne so often, hut it was very vague of meaning, and many a c hild 'cursed with a vivid imagination lias wondered what might he meant by the "level of the se a." The same fumy that pictured the wonderful tides stalking like giants sixty fe-e-t high up the Hay of Fundy, saw the sea laid out in a green hi lie level to the- horizon, with all the mountains with tin pro noum-ahle names rising from it in ter races and cones. Halt the wonder ami the curiosity of eliildliood lingers alsait the cms ail ; the murmur of the waves in criiosou-hcartesl she ll- held close to listening e-ars is a promise to them that some time they shall set- the far-off -ea. And so it hap|s-ns that when they are grown up, ami live in cities, and the mid-summer heals conic on, ami the annual vacation rotne rouml, half the world finds it-< If at the level of the sen. \\ hen the con tinents were re nt in twain, there was left this long, ragged ea-te rn edge, with its thousaml jutting |Hiints, and i its thou-and hays holding in tlo-ir 1 curves of warm white sand, whole summers full of sunshine ami blue water. This citv hv the s a trail froni Maine to i lorida ; it i- all lon gitude and no latitude. The nw*- pa|nr correspondent who take-s its summer census, finels its inhabitants dwelling in many veranda bed hotels all a-flutter with flags ami awning-. < Ir. less gregarious in their taste*, tlo y c#-k the seclusion that a cottage grants, i er they pitch tln-ir tcuts em the beae h and are therewith content. Tln y go , down to these a iushi|w. They tak<- the surf in bathing-elre--e s which, the fashion letters tell ns, are prettier thi ye-ar than ever before. They watch the long lift of the breaker n* it rurves to its fall. They go out niling conic . out of the heavens and take them I home. How the blue Atlantic is storming Ml. Desert with its incoming tide this morning! All down the coust how ' the surf is heating, ami the sun is shining, nml happy-hearted jtooplo are gaining health of lady nml brain. They come hack year after year to the old familiar places, a- birds come back to last year nests. They gath , er shells at low tide, and mh weed for herbariums. They take deep sa soundings and IcArn the titnc of the tides; ami float ami swim and I row and sail, and coming hack in September, brown and happy, they meet the pe-oplc who have sjicnt the-ir summer somewhere else. For the world is wide, nml everybody docs not go tee the shore. There are pil grims who ge> hack, each succeeding summer to the White Sulphur Springs, like pilgrims to a shrine. There arc tourists who take for their grand ob jective point of summer travel the zenith city of the unsiilwd sew, and watch the sunsets flush ami fade over Huperior. There are. people whom the mountain glory shadows like a cloud, the strength of the hills draws them like a magnet and they cannot choose but conic. Every in land lake and river ha* its summer devotees, who firmly believe that they have found the true Arcadia. Across green pastures the long afternoon shadows fall, and on still waters floats the white wouder of the water lily. They go down the St. Lawrence, through that long, breathless rush of the Long Saiilt. They linger about (icorge and the Adirondack.* till the leaves begin to fall. But, after all, there is nothing like the ocean. Sooner or later we come hack to that, finding a charm that no one can resist or forget. This ancient mariner has an unending story to tell; with a resistless fascina tion he holds each wedding guest. And that is why these summer days find the world nt the level of the sea". - - A iikko with a moustache kisses the forehead of his lady love, and a novel ist thus records the deed : "He swept her temple with the silky adornment of his upper lip." We are giad it wn •ilk, not bristles.— Bwton litrald. ItONA lIOMIKI It. Till: FAMOUS PAINTER OF ANIMAL* — HOW KIIE I.OOKH, IHtKHHKH A Nit TAI.KS. Kfi'in th* Hun Knsti< Imu CtiroiiM*, J tin* '/J. It was on one of those pleasant Hun- i duy excursions which art: such noted - features of Paris life that I first beheld Fonlaiucbh-nti. The chief attractions | of the place are its magnificent palace, J the picturesque forest near by ami the I " (Jour de la Fontaine," with its great pond. A diversion peculiar to the ! place consists iu throwing hard rolls ■ into the pond ami watching the eager and unsuccessful utlnck of the carp ' upon them. I was looking at this sport when I noticed that several peo ple were staring in my direction. I sinking about me I saw that the per son who drew the attention of tin other spectators was a little stout lady of masculine appearance, lu-r hair gray iu places ami parted on the side, with bright, black eyes, strongly marked features and a resolute mouth. She wore a plain black silk skirt, with vest , and jacket of black velvet, white lim-n collar and culls, a plain black hut and a fob wutch-chuiu attached to a watch j which she carried in her vest 'pocket. ; Altogether the ladv presented a strik ing appearance. I hastened to meet some lib nds, hut l lingered long iiotigh to give the lady a chance of getting ahead of inc. I was much surprised to see the lady stop and talk to my friends, and when I came up to them I was introduced to Rosa Bon heur. I wa* prepared to hear the iiainw of a celebrated js-rsoliage, for, iu spite of any eccentricity of dress, the true Parisian will not stare unless it i* really at some one he knows to be a celebrity. Mile. Botdi'-ur, although j n-t fifty-seven years of age, look* hardly more than forty-five. We re ceived an invitation to her atelier lor the next day and went there at the time apjHiiiiled. Rosa in- I -adore Ron lour is the old <-t daughter of Raymond Ronheur, a painter who gained some fume. She Int.* two brothers ami one sister, all artists of more or Icm renown. The si-ter Juliette Mine. Pevrolh-a i- al most the only female friend or com panion Mile, Ikiiilu-ur allows. A plain court, somewhat m-glccted, I cuds to an entrance which at one time may have looked interesting, hut is qow hidden Ih ueath dirt. On the first floor are the apartments of the great artist. Von enter the hallway into the studio, into whii-li the light streams iu from j two windows. The furniture i- tho roughly Bohemian-like. Everything i iii pieture-que confusion—half-fill i-hed pictur< • on idle caels and brok en models of animals' heads. We were shown the living apartments of Mile. Rouheur by Mme. iVyrnlh*. The npaitnu nt* are not remarkable for anything save the altscine of pictures. V.i one single oil painting iiu* she cither iu her parlor or-let ping room. In l*;i she wa* elected I'rin eijitil of the Fri-e S-hoo| of IX*-igu for \\ omen, and -lie told me it had Ixs-n n long de-ire on lur part to help women in the walks of art. At thi -chool female pupils of g<*d repute can go through a course of drawing, painting, w*sl engraving, Ac. It is i'rutu here that most of the female artists who make their living by paint ing fans, Isixes, bottles and other arti cle fir which Paris i famous, have graduated. "True," said Mile. Ron heur, " it is not the highest kind of art, but it i* one way in which the fe- , males of Paris ran raise themselves j above the ordinary lnlor of sewing ami drudging which kills hi many every year." " I)o you not find the : cares of the school very irksome?" I asked. She laughingly turned to Mine. Pcymllc* and said, "My poor . sister must Isar it all; whenever lam very busy, or do not feel iu the humor, she does the work at the school for me." I said to her, "Do you find that women as a rule like the drudgcrv necessary to arrive at the real art ulti mately?'' She answered, "It is like! everything < lie that women undertake. Sitne learn just the first rudiments, j then start out to larn their living the best way thev can with what they have j acquired. "There are others who work from day to day for the real love of art. I think I can safely predict that , there are two pupils who are now in the life cla*s that will make their mark as artists." "From what stations of society do I you get your pupils?" "From all rlase* ; most of them nre the daugh ters of respectable clerks or small tradesmen who must cant their own livelihood some day." Mile. Ronheur showed us a small picture of herself painted by one of her most promising pupils. " You see," she said, jminting out every merit in the portrait, " how , originally this flesh tint is used and how the effect is produced." 1 asked her what she thought of Meissonnier, Heroine nml I>ore. "Divine!" snid she. "I am proud to be called their confrere. I think art is appreciated in Paris a* it is in no other port of the world." When 1 inquired what she thought of American art and artists she smiled in a most charming man ner and said : "You are nn Ameri can. Whatcaulsay? They arc the best after my countrymen.' Mile. Ronheur is, like all cultivated French women, a conversationalist. To strangers she speaks very little of her father. Of her brothers very little is known, except that in late years, through the name they bear and the influence which their sister used for I them, some of their pieces have brought good price*. Mile. Ronheur exhibited pictures many years ago, and for one who ha* been in the pro fession so long it is surprising how few sin- has produced, but this rs been hue she works very carefully. Her pictures bring enormous prices, ranking even higher than those of (Jerome. 1 asked her how she became exclusively an animal painter. She answered: "I am very fond of all animals. If I hud not become a painter I should have made an excellent lion queen iu some menagerie. We used to plav iu my father's studio, and I, being the oldest, had to look out for my younger brother* and sisters so that they would not disturb iiiiu. Wc hud four kit tens. One day it suddenly entered ' my head to play painter. I had re- i ecivcd many lessons in painting from my father, so that I wus not without knowledge. I took the kittens und put them all in a heap while I painted them. I painted the group a* well us I could that afternoon, and for three or four days we amused ourselves with them. My father did not give me the , h ust aid, and the picture did not amount to much and was throw n aside. About nine years after 1 strove to paint other subjects, hut not with much success, (fiie day I ran across my youthful < llhrt —the group of four kit ten*. 1 liked the natural jsi-c so much that painted it over. When I had finished it some friend* saw it and it wa* pronounced my masterpiece. I exhibited it with other works, and from that I date my first since--." " Which of your picture- do you con sider the ls*t?" "The 'Tiger and Hyena,' which was exhibited iu leiJT at the 1 !\po-itioii : also 'The Horse Fair.' I must tell you under what difficulties I labored to gT ' Tin- Horse Fair' done," *fie said. " 1 at tended the horse fair every day in order to paint it ju*t as it was. One day I wa- -< tting alone without paying attention to anything hut tin- work he lore tin-when I wa* slat lied by a bona'- hcad right over my shoulder looking, as it were, on my work. I merely look i <1 around to s<- my admirer, the horn-, hut alas, it wo* too late ; he had stepped into my l*ix of colors, and I siipjx-w -taking fright at my screnm of dismay, he gave one hound ahead, overturned my easel. st -p|*-d on mv canvass, tear ing a hole right through the eeutrc of my cherished piece of work I had aii my work to do over again." Mi-- Ronheur has painted about forty picture*, all nhitna! suhjwt* j and all more or leas famous. 1 ask ed it she wa* fond of the society of lur fellow-nrti-ts. Slu answer*! with lu-r significant shrug, "With some. 1 am an utter Bohemian, and when I find jieoplc, artists or others, who are congenial 1 like to nsraeiatc with them, but you *oc 1 do not have a great deal of time. Win u I go for an excursion I generally go alone and Fouiaincbleau is my favorite place." MVItIK ASTOINKTTK. Mrr i- I,c Urut/a t t r ewj- It was in the yiar 1770 that our author, who, by this time, had com mittcd the blunder of marrying M. I/' Rrun in order to escape living with a stepfather, took her tir-t like new of the Queen. The latter waw then in all the brilliancy of her youth and l much so, her nrms were lovely, she had sniall and perfectly -ha|H-d hand* and charming littic tis't." She walked la-tter, loutinue otir chronicler, than any woman in ! France, holding her bead very up- ! right, "with a majesty which uenot- j ed the sovereign iu Uie inidst of her | court," without this majestic la-nring detracting iu the least from the sweet tnw* aud grace of her whole aspect. Her feature* were not all regular, her nose wa* thin and pretty, nml her mouth wo* not large, although the li|e* were rather thick. She inherited the long, narrow, oval countenance peculiar to the Hapshurg family, j Her eves were not large, aud were al- I most blue ill color, ami her expression was candid and very soft. The must remarkable thing a!>out her face was the brilliancy of her complexion. "I never," say* Mme. I*e Rrun, "saw anv- I thing like it, and brilliant is the only worct to express what it wa*, for her skin wa* so transparent that it allow ed of no shadow. I never could ob tain the effect a* I wished ; paints failed to depict the freshness, the del icate tints of that charming face which I never beheld in any other woman." At first the Queen'a imposing air in timidated the young artist, but her Majesty sjoke with so niueh gentleness that her kind manner soon di**i|mtcd the first impression. As for her de meanor, indeed, it would tm difficult, we are told, to describe its ceaseless affability and charm. "1 do not be lieve," writes our author, "that Queen Marie Antoinette ever allowed nn oc casion to pass by without saving an agreeable thing to those who approach ed her." Studying this happy admix ture of dignity and sweetness, Mmc. lie Rrun thinks it was "her head being so beautifully set on her shoulders that gave her, when walking, such an imposing and majestic air, that she might have been a goddess surround ed by her nymphs. During one of her sittings the artist mentioned what an impression the sight bad made on her, and told the Queen how much the manner she hud of carrying IK r IKIKI addctl to the dignity of her mien. She answered, in it laughing way : "If I won- not Queen tbcv would say I looked insolent, tit it not so?" Mine, IA- lirun matle a number of portrait* of her Majesty, hut never raw .Marie Antoinette nflt r the last hall at Versailles, in I7H*. On thin occasion the box where she wiut seated wii> near that of the Quo n, mo that the artist could hear what the latter Maid. "I thought her," write* our uuthor, "very agitated, inviting *ome of the young men alout the court —Much a* M. de J/iimeth, whore family had been treated with much favor —to dance with her, hut muni of tlnui refused, HI that several of the quadrilles could not he arranged. 'I he behavior of them: gentlemen rtru< k me a- being mort unbecoming; I do not know why, but their return I roomed to trie a kind of evil omen, a prelude to graver ilia." The In volution, in deed, wan very near, and there w. re graver portent- of catastrophe in the air than even a young courtier— im pertinence. Til K lIOI'K 01 1 III: lION AIMK I i:s. A (IHAI'llIf UKN KIITIOX nV I'KI.M \. VKTOH, lIIr I ATlll.lt AM' Jllr Al.vr. ff'fti !l- Lbbd'/U ' r. 1 I'rince .lerome is enjoying hi* re venge. No man bar b< > ninon aini-ed ; he ha. had it on all rid. r — from the Ih.napartirlr ar well a* from the Isgit -1 imirtr and the Ilepuhlieaiif; and nr>v the fate of Ibiiiaparii'iii i> iu hi- hand-. He is the lawful candidate of the j.r -; ty, and he ir aln. the impossible candi date; yet he ha- to b< induced to waive: hi- claim* in fuvor of the only possible | OM —hi- own "i.. 11,- | rstsU i>. ein maintaining hi- jx-r-oiial right would wreck the party, for IK- could lind no j following in the nation or in society. I IK- Hcpublicaiir do not trust him, the < h lieul- hate him f.>r hi- Yoltaircan i-m, the Houapariists for hi- ruppo . J foul play with the inter, -t- of the dy na.-ty wlnii his < - ou-in was on the: throne. This feeling found expr<-siou the other day in the meeting at M. Kouher—. The leaders w< re cunV'k. 1 to cotjsider the situation of the party, and one gentleman could think of no more tine ly contribution to the discu— -ion than to open fire on llic < lianiet: r ot Jerome. Houhor checked him in an instant: "S.ft words, please. D>> you know that our very existence iiangs oil hi- word '.'" S. the new move is to speak him fair. I tut it wa- easi er to decide to do than to find a |x-ah> r to do it. Mo-t of the iSoiiapartistH proper do not t vcu salute him. Wh< n they go to the r. << ption- of hi- si-ter, tin Princess Mathilde, it isonlv on tlx ; taeit understanding that he -hall be kept out "f the way. The Priiic v mects her brother in the morning, In r friends in the afternoon. She is the i only link In-tween him and the party hearing hi- family name. She, there fore, has naturally Imtotiic the etui—a : ry lx tween him aud the partv couin il. it is a delicate mis-iou. lie knows w hat they tiiiuk of him, vet she ha-to carry him soft message- in their name. "Will lie IK- good enough to stand out of the way?" He has ouly to refuse, to I break them in pieces aud kill I#ona hi'Mrtism forever. She was with him all day Saturday, hut the result of the interview is not known. The I'rinces* j -hares to the full one strong opinion i of her jmrty —she has no faith in lor I brother, hut on the other hand, she has nil faith in her-brother-son. Prime Vietor, a boy of seventeen, is in her ( eye* the ideal candidate, a far better one than |>oor Prince Is>uis, who she, in common with rnauv other ladies of I her age, thought a little to good to live. Victor is a true Napoleon in look*, in j character nud in a certain fircy imjs !• uosity of temper, which marks all the pure-blooded of the race. Since the virtual separation of their father and mother, the aunt ha looked after both j hoys. Thcv live with their tutor on j the other side of Paris, near the Col lege Charlemagne, which they attend, but they |>ass most of' their time with j the Princess Mathilde. When they are not at the Hue de la Ccriraic they are at the Hue de llcrri. The Princess is the more attached to Victor because ; she has no lioy of her own. She is i wont to express a delighted apprchen j sion of his spirit, and to implore mild M. Hlanchet, his tutor, to keep an cvo !on him day and night. Down to the beginning of the week this was no more than an aunt- care for a pet, or a nephew ; now il is the concern of a prineoss for a possible heir to the throne. Hey on.} the immediate cn tournye of the Princess, absolutely nothing was known of this lad, nud it is still not too late iu the day to toll all whom it may concern that he is rather fall, handsome, straight as a dart, dark it) hair, cheek and eye, and in temper and temperament a truo Corsiean-Italian. He is bis mother son. He has her full lips, but the Napoleonic alliance has raved him from having the nose of the House of Savoy. His features are regular; tho hnir in trained over the brow and cropped, but somewhat 100 short to IRE quite in the .prevailing boyish style. He has all the qualifications of a popular candidate in this woman-ruled country, including a touch of wildncas. The importance of liis roiuicctions fives him a decided advantage over is unhappy oouin. 11c is of tho best blood in Europe by his mother side. Thk drowning season is just begun.