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 <ggims. In short,
it has become a necessity of life.
Home persons, even some physicians,
seem to regard it in the light of a
highly-concentrated, lienofirent food ;
and it is yet possible thnt we may see
it set tijion the table like salt, to he
used by thoo who feel the need of it.
To women it has become really the
staff of life; at their weakest times
they lean upon it, and it carries tlieni
kiudly through period* of exhaustion
unci of nervous irritation which, with
out its aid, would ruck them und al
most wreck them. In fact, qtiininu is
simply u trcmendcus tonic. It has no
particular curative property —using
cure in the sense commonly given to
it. In this respect it is not like mer
cury. It works its wonders by giving
the system a grout jsiwer of resistance.
That evil influence to which u patient
without it would ut once succumb, lie ;
is able to resist and to throw oil' by
sufficient doses of cpiinine. It is thus
that it operates in influetmi. Taken
promptly when the symptoms first
begin to show themselves, it very rare
ly fails to hold the patient up against
the attack. Of late the apothecary's
! price for this invaluable remedy has
' been two cents a grain, not three, as a
! large dealer is reported to have said
i yesterday ; hut this price made the
! use of it so expensive that it was lim
ited to those who were in comfortable
i circumstances. The consequence of the
removal of the duty will probably la
that ere long its cost will he reduced
quite one-half, to the great benefit of
the whole community.
TIIK I.KVKL OF TilK SKA.
Krunt tit* Waalilrigt. it I'.jat.
There is u quaint little phrase,
which lurks for the most part between
the covers of geographies. It comes
in among the length of rivers ami the
height of mountains like- selali in the
psalms. It was u-y to rrii|t-ml>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 <en
still afternoons, atiel get becalmed and
wait for some vagrant breeze t<> 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<eauty. The jan-picture
here drawn of her deserves particular
attention, when we consider the writer's I
I *|<ecial qualifii-ations. Marie Antoi- j
in-tte, we are told, wa* "tall, ad
rnirahly proportioned, plump, without
la-iug tia> 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.