The Island-born have swept thy billow since
The Sea-Kings bore their proud dominion there,
Though Europe leagued, and oft some powerful prince

The fight would dare;

Holland and Spain, and France, have many a day
Felt a superior sway.

They were as chaff before the rushing wind,

As dead leaves scatter'd by an autumn shower: They throng'd in arms, were conquer'd and resign'd

Their useless power.

What flag waved triumph o'er thy foaming brine?—
My island-home, 'twas thine!

And now shall we our former fame forget,
And let our barks rot idle on the wave?
No!-do we not possess a Sea-King yet,

As ever free-born men were glad to own
Upon an ocean-throne.

Deeds might be done worthy our glorious isle

Arise, ye relicts of the mighty dead!

The fame of Trafalgar and of the Nile

A shame upon our bravery remains
While Poland is in chains.

Send o'er the wave the British flag unfurl'd,

As good and brave

Is not yet fled;

Where Nelson, Drake, and Hood, the way have shewn ; Then Freedom o'er the nations of the world

Shall raise her throne,

And let her sway remain unchanged like thee,
THOU EVERLASTING SEA!

34*

MEMOIRS OF THE DUCHESSE D'ABRANTES.*

WE hail the appearance of the seventh and eighth volumes of of this work with much satisfaction, and we commence our translations with the meeting of the fair Duchess and one of the principal actors in the French revolution. It is related with spirit.

'Just before I left Madrid, I met with an adventure at the ambassador's, singular enough to induce me to give it a place in these Memoirs.

I dined every day at the ambassador's when not engaged elsewhere, and was as much at home there as I should have been in my own family. I was generally very late, because my excursions of curiosity so fully occupied my mornings that I was never at home until five o'clock, after which I had to dress; so that I always arrived after the third bell had rung. But Madame de Beurnonville, always indulgent, readily excused this. One day I came just as the party were entering the dinner-room. General Beurnonville offered me his arm, and I had scarcely time to speak to his lady before we were seated at table. Next to me was a man, of a most sinister and repulsive countenance, who uttered not a word. He was tall, dark, and of a morose and bilious complexion. His look was sombre; and something made me think he had but one eye, but I soon perceived that it was the effect of a cataract, which did not however blind him. As he was so singularly taciturn, nobody spoke much to him. This surprised me the more, because the ambassador's lady was very attentive to him. At the second course, I could no longer restrain my curiosity; and, although I was conscious of the rudeness of the question, I could not help asking General Beurnonville, in a whisper, who my silent neighbor was.

""What!" he replied, with an air of surprise, "do you not know him?” "I never saw him."

"Impossible!"

"I declare that such is the fact."

"But you have often heard his name mentioned, particularly when you were a child."

"You excite my curiosity more powerfully than even his extraordinary appearance has done. Who is he then ?"

"Shall I send you some spinach, TALLIEN?" said a well known voice. 'It was that of Junot, who sat opposite to me, and was much amused at my curiosity, which he had guessed.

I almost started from my chair.... TALLIEN...... I looked obliquely at the horrible man, who, having perceived the effect he produced upon me, became of the color of the spinach which my husband had offered him. The latter had known him in Egypt, without however being intimate with him; for the General-in-chief was not very friendly to those who had any connexion with! Tallien.

...

This name, pronounced in a manner so unexpected, made a singular impression upon me. My childhood, to which General Beurnonville had alluded, had been surrounded with dangers, and my young imagination fed with the most horrible recitals connected in the most particular manner with the name and person of Tallien. I could not help starting, as I have already stated, which he must have perceived; for when I looked at him again, his odious countenance was dark as Erebus.

* Memoires de la Duchesse d'Abrantes ou Souvenirs Historiques sur Napoleon, la Revolution, le Directoire, le Consulat, l'Empire, et la Restauration. Paris, 1823. Ladvocat.

The wretch! How did he drag on his loathsome existence? I asked General Beurnonville the question; and also how it happened that one of our decemvirs was in a kingdom governed by a Bourbon.

"I am as much surprised as you," the General replied, "and the more so, because the Emperor dislikes Tallien, and has always testified this dislike in not the most gracious manner. This is so true, that, when in Egypt, Junot must have perceived that General Bonaparte was very severe towards such officers as were intimate with Tallien. Lanusse and his brother were never welcome at head-quarters on this account."

'After dinner Junot introduced Tallien to me as one of his fellow travellers in Egypt. He seemed to have forgotten my emotion at dinner on hearing his name. He informed us that he was appointed consul, I believe at Malaga; at all events I am certain that it was somewhere in Andalusia.

The name of Tallien is famous in the bloody page of our revolutionary annals. Without searching for the motives which made him act, there is no doubt that, for the part he took in the affair of the 9th of Thermidor, he deserves honorable mention in history. I am not one of those kind creatures determined to find good in everything; nor can I agree with those who now attribute good intentions to Robespierre, and pretend that, had it not been for what occurred on the 9th of Thermidor, we should have had a return of the golden age. It may be so, and I am willing to believe it rather than differ in opinion from those persons who, even at the present day, say-Be my brother, or I will kill thee. And yet I am a good patriot. I was brought up during the dawn of that glorious revolution; I imbibed its principles, and my young years were spent under the shade of the tricolor flag and the wide-spreading tree of liberty!

Our next anecdote relates to M. de Limoges and we really know not which most to admire, the gentleman or the thief.

'M. de Limoges was then a banker, and was to set out for Bordeaux the next day upon business. In the evening he went to the play, with a tortoise-shell snuff-box set in gold, upon the cover of which was a beautiful miniature of his wife holding her son in her arms, painted by Augustin. The child was then about two years old, and remarkable for its beauty. Madame de Limoges was also a beautiful woman, and the execution of the picture was admirable. On leaving the theatre with a lady of his acquaintance, he felt some one press against him, and having turned suddenly round, a handsome young man, of seemingly elegant manners, apologized for having pushed him. He ought, perhaps, to have apologized for something else; for scarcely had M. de Limoges entered his house than he discovered that he had been robbed; his snuff-box was gone. This loss was doubly felt, because, independently of the subject, the painting was one of great value. He lodged a complaint at the police office; and in an advertisement, which he had inserted in all the papers, he promised ten louis to any person who would bring him back the miniature only. On his return from Bordeaux, two months after, he found a packet addressed to him, which, to his great delight, enclosed, not the snuff-box, but the miniature. It was accompanied by the following letter, of which I have seen the original:

"Sir, I can easily imagine your regret at losing the miniature, which I have the honor to return to you. So charming a child, and so

beautiful a wife, must necessarily be the pride and delight of him who has a right to have them painted. But permit me, sir, to offer a word of advice. A man who has such a wife and child, painted by Augustin, and carries them upon the lid of a snuff-box, should have the latter of gold, and should surround the miniature with brilliants of the first water. Had you done so, it would have been more honorable for you, and more profitable to me. "I have the honor, &c. "THE THIEF.

"P. S. You have promised ten louis to any one who should return the miniature into your hands. This is something like the promise of a Gascon, for you could not suppose that I am such a simpleton as to put you to the test. If, however, you really meant to keep your word, put the ten louis into your pocket, and come to the Favart theatre the day after to-morrow-I will then pay myself with my own hands.”

This singular epistle was left at the house of M. de Limoges during his absence. On the night after his return, he put the ten louis into his pocket and went to the theatre, but he met not the thief. The latter perhaps had been more unfortunate with another than with him, and might have been in the hands of justice. Be that as it may, M. de Limoges never heard any more of him.'

The next anecdote which we shall translate, is the account of an attack made by robbers, in Spain, upon M. d'Aranjo, the Portuguese minister at Berlin.

'M. d'Aranjo preceded us by some weeks. An adventure, à la Gil Blas, occurred to him on the road. He was attacked by banditti, who plundered and ill-treated him. He was of a very mild, but firm character. As soon as the robbers had opened the carriage-door, they brutally dragged him out, and demanded where his money was. The Count d'Aranjo had with him a secretary, who was a coward of the first water. Him the robbers had thrown into a dry ditch, just after they dragged his master from the carriage. There the poor fellow lay, with his nose to the ground, in a state of agony, which excites no commiseration when it is produced by cowardice. As for M. d'Aranjo, he was as calm as such a situation would allow, and was considering how he should save a watch which Madame de Talleyrand was sending to the Duchess of Ossuna, and another valuable trinket, of which he had taken charge for the Marchioness of Ariza, mother of the Duke of Berwick. The watch was of blue enamel, with diamond hands; and each hour indicated by a superb brilliant. The other trinket was a chain of diamonds and pearls set by Foncier. It was an exquisite piece of workmanship, and must have been invaluable at Madrid, where stones are always so badly set. M. d'Aranjo was considering, in the midst of the bandoleros, how he should conceal these things. The watch soon found its way into one of his boots, and the chain into that part of his habiliments which no person had ever thought of examining, since he was whipped as a truant schoolboy. The robbers expected a rich booty; for what they wanted, was these very jewels, which had been seen at Bayonne, with several others; and a report was prevalent that M. d'Aranjo had been intrusted with the crown jewels of Portugal, to have them re-set. His over prudence had done all the mischief. He always carried this watch and chain about his person lest he should lose them; and at this period the Spanish police were so inefficient, that you could not walk a league from Madrid without incurring the danger of being carried off by a fine troop

of brigands, well dressed, well armed, and whose appearance was a thousand times more splendid than the king's troops, who had neither bread, shoes, nor money. Thus, when the latter met the brigands face to face, they always sustained defeat. No one ever travelled without an escort of seven or eight men at least. The men most to be depended upon as guards were natives of Arragon, or Asturians. M. d'Aranjo had taken this escort; but, as he was not timid, and fancied there was no danger, he had that morning gone on before his escort, who were to meet him at the place where he intended to dine. He had scarcely gone a distance of six miles when he was attacked, as I have before stated. The robbers immediately plundered the carriages, and broke open all the boxes in that in which the minister travelled; but not finding what they expected, they drew their knives, and threatened to kill M. d'Aranjo, who, having secured the watch and chain, bid them defiance, told them that they were a set of villains, whom he would give orders to have hanged. This was rather imprudent; but it was right, he said, always to endeavor to intimidate such men by an attitude to which they were not accustomed under such circumstances.

"But you braved death," said I, "which, permit me to say, was an act of madness; and, indeed, with a poignard at your throat, you were not far off."

"Oh, no.... I cannot think so.... Besides," he added, after having reflected an instant, "it is all the same thing. I could not lower myself to such scoundrels. . . . They might take, but it was not for me to give!"

It seems that the secretary was not so absolute as his master in his ideas of personal dignity, for he made the most humble supplications to the robbers. But when he heard the Count peremptorily refuse to deliver up the money and jewels, all his respect for his patron merged in his fears.

"My lord! my lord!" he cried, in a voice of despair, "you do not consider what you are about.-My good gentlemen, I will tell you where the money is." Then raising himself half up in the ditch where he lay-" Gentlemen," he said, "look there, on the left side of the carriage, there is a small brass knob in the panel,-press that, good gentlemen, and take all, but pray do not kill us. . . . . The jewels are there likewise.

'And he uttered every word in a tremulous and doleful voice, and accompanied with a frightful chattering of the teeth. . . . . The poor man was as pale as a ghost, and during several months after was like one bewildered.

"But my lord," said he, after the robbers were gone, "you could not have been in earnest." He was then informed that the watch and chain had been saved; which alarmed him so much that he wanted to call back the brigands and give up these trinkets. "For depend upon it," he said, "they expected to get them."

We conclude, for the present, with a ludicrous account of a scene on the heights of Boulogne.

‹ Madame B—r, the mother of Madame Laplanche-Mortier, had never before been so near the Emperor; and nothing could prevent her from leaving the barrack, that she might get a better sight of him. As she was the mother-in-law of an officer of the palace, the Emperor could not be angry if he met her on his road. Being, however, in an ill-humor,