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Ilad it rested with himself, Jean Marie
would doubtless have brought all his en
ergies to bear upon Luc, whose auti
matrimonial dogmas, and strange inti
macy with Margaret, were matters of no
toriety in the Canton ; but Luc, in addi
tion to his usual short and rough manner,
was, at the moment, entirely occupied
with repairing his mill-stones, thus making
access to him a very difficult, if not ab
solutely impossible matter.
Whilst waiting, Jean Marie spied out
Etienne; of this fact, however, rumor
had taught him nothing which could as
sist him to any extent on the subject of
his investigations. ft was necessary,
though ; that he should know how far he
could depend upon this person, who was
yet unknown to him.
Having left at dawn of day with the
mill cart for a very distant point, Etienne
had just returned, and was only waiting
to resume his trips until his animals would
have eaten, and rested themselves. Jean
Marie, who, in order to avert all suspi
cion, had taken care when he arrived to
dwell upon the pretended bargain so hur
riedly entered upon with the baker in the
city, and to affect great annoyance at the
delay he met with at the Mill; then, in
order to approach Etienne, he availed
himself of the pretext of discussing with
him the necessity for more or loss haste
with regard to the corn brought by the
mill cart, and also the urgency of giving
them precedence over him.
This affair settled—declaring that he
only wished to kill time—he followed
Etienne from ihe stable, where he went
to overlook the feeding of his animals, to
the lower story of the Mill, where he
drew out the sacks with which to load
his cart; then, with the most careless,
indifferent air, he began his questions.
Although these first overtures were
made (according to his own opinion,) with
the utmost cunning and skill, Jean Marie
thought that Etienne evinced some mis
trust. But, after the events of the day
before, he could scarcely appear altogether
indifferent.
But, Jean Marie soon had the extreme
satisfaction of seeing this rather trouble
some disposition disappear as though by
enchantment, and attributed it to the
clever manner in which he had played his
part.
From that moment, he had merely the
trouble of putting a few questions, with
out even being obliged to manoeuvre in
any way, readily receiving all the infor
mation he could desire. The result of
this examination—to which, after the first
few moments of reserve, Etienne had
lent himself with great frankness—was,
that the servant of the Coudrets was
simply an honest lad, very lowly and
humble, who only thought of regularly
and conscientiously accomplishing his
daily task, being desirous of keeping a
situation from which he hoped to lay by a
small sum; professing for his young
mistress such scrupulous and exclusive
respect, as never to dream of raising his
eyes to her. He gathered also from his
answers, that Margaret had never taken
the slightest notice ofhim, for Jean Marie
just thought that any attention from her
would have been an honor not lightly
passed over by the young serving lad.
This account settled with Etienne,
Jean Marie saw him go off with a satisfied
air, and then thought only of how ho
could approach Luc, who, towards even
ing, the stones in good order, his mill
again at work, seemed at last to be a
little more accessible.
But, notwithstanding all his cunning
pretexts, his skilful manceuvering, his ap
parently frank and honest intentions,
Jean Marie saw that Luc openly avoided
him, and would only succeed in drawing
from him equivocal monosyllables, sul
lenly uttered, and accompanied by indi
rect and suspicious glances.
So, Jean Marie came to the conclusion
that this pretended maniac was but a
crafty fellow, who, to hide his game from
others, softened his fierce manners by a
pretended bon hommie , which he knew
well enough how to dispense with, when
he felt himself iu danger of detection by
one of superior penetration ; and he be
came more and more confirmed in the
opinion, that this dangerous and ambigu
ous person should be held in especial sus
picion, and watched with all that wonder
ful acuteness of which the self-constituted
host of the Coudret Mill felt himself
possessed.
Such was the work which Jean Marie
congratulated himself upon having already
accomplished, when he suddenly commu
nicated his plan to Xavier.
[to be continued.]
An agricultural paper recommends
country ladies to take a large sized pump
kin seed, carefully cut out the meat on
the under side, put a narrow slip of fur
Ground the edge, and fasten the strings to
the sides, and they will have a bonnet iu
the pink of fashion. The broad end of
the bonnet should be worn in front t©
keep off the wind and sun.
[From Blackwood's Magazine.]
Dreams in the Invalid.es.
i.
Long had Napoleon slept afar in his Atlantic grave,
His tomb the isle, his vault the sky that met the
circling wave,
The willow shivered in the wind, the sea-bird wheeled
and screamed
Above that last lone bivouac where the conqueror lay
and dreamed—
There were none to feel the sweep
Os the thoughts that thronged his sleep,
Save the spirits of the tempest or the genii of the deep.
n.
Then, said the King so politic, who wore the Bourbon’s
crown,
“ Twere well to lend our quiet reign some gilding of
renown ;
“ That name bo terrible to Kings shall work a
spell.
“ Go, bring the hero back to France, 'twill please the
people well!”
So they bore him o’er the main
To his capital again
Which had throbbed with all the triumphs and mis
fortunes of his reign.
m.
They buried him beneath the dome that roofs the
warriors grey,
Who, in their youth, still followed where his Eagles
led the way;
All day battalions by the walls with drum and banner
go,
The ancient sentries doze above, the Emperor dreams
below—
And, responding to the sweep
Os the thoughts that throng his sleep,
The troubled Nation heaves as to the hurricane the
deep
IV.
His dreams are of his destiny, its splendors and its
gloom,
His fateful past, his purposes, how baffled, and by
w T hom ;
Souls which have struck such earth-fast roots, borne
such earth-shadowing sway,
Departed, still impress their will, nor wholly pass
away,
As his visions come and go,
Some of glory, some of woe,
Electric, through the heart of France, the martial
currents flow.
v.
“ I hear the sounds that greeted me when I from Egypt
came,
Applauding Paris echoes back the army’s wild acclaim;
* Victorious leader of the host, ’tis thou shalt rule the
State,
The Conqueror of Italy shall fill the Consulate! ’
And yet louder rolls the strain
As from red Marengo's plain
I step to loftier empire o’er the Austrian heaps of
slain.
VI.
How long shall this tame monarchy my warlike realm
disgrace ?”
Dark was that dream and ominous to Bourbon’s fated
race!
Swift insurrection drives them forth as whirlwinds
chase the leaf—
Again a I'rench Republic hails a Bonaparte its chief ;
Nor ends resemblance there—
He gains the Imperial chair,
With all its heritage of war, dark policy, and care.
VII.
“ Chill is the vision rising now, of endless fields of
Bnow,
All dark the sky, save in the east the burning city’s,
glow,
The sleepless Cossack in their rear, in front the wintry
flood,
My legions sow the waste with dead, and trace their
paths in blood.
—’Twas the crumbling of my might
—’Twas the gathering of my night,
A debt of ruin mindful Franco still owes the Muscovite.”
vm.
Not long the Second Empire waits unanswering to the
Dead—
*• Let Moscow’s dark misfortune be with glory over
spread !
The light of Friedland’s victory upon our standard
sits —
f
We saw their horsemen’s backplatcs Hash the sun o 1
Austerlitz !
There are triumphs yet in store
On that distant Eastern shore
Where, with the mighty Sea-Power leagued, we’ll beard
the Czar once more.”
IX.
Green are the hills and grey the cliffs that rise by
Alma’s flow,
Where, like a belt of fir, the liuss awaits the triple
foe,
The cliffs’ pale walls are swarming with the voltigeura
of France —
Up the green slopes that volley death the red-clad men
advance—
And the Russians slow give back,
Like the bears before the pack,
Till, from the seaward Hanks, the Turk discerns their
flying track.
x.
Onward, her towers, all bright, against the Euxine’s
azure roll,
The leaguering armies downward look on doomed
Sebastopol;
Their camps are whitening all the hills, their fleets
cloud all the deep,
Close the brown trenches undulate w ith fiery, fatal
sweep,
Till aloft in thunder fly
Fort and battery to the sky,
And Russia’s pride and France’s hate amid the ruins
lie.
XI.
“ Thorn of my grave, ill friend, fast foe, false Austria
breaks my rest!
Austria, so prompt to parley with my foot upon her
breast!
So quick to rise, forget, new-plot, and deal a treacherous
thrust! —
Shall France forgive such perfidy, forego revenge so
just ?
’Twas my faithless Austrian bride
In misfortune left my side ;
Poo/ Josephine had clung to me, with me had captive
died!”
©F ’JTMIS ISOUTMo
XII.
France bows before his will, like corn that feels the
unseen blast—
Down Alp and Appenine to the Po her troops are
pouring fast,
Pale Milan hears the cannon on Ticino’s frontier
banks—
Brightens, as past her walls retreat her tyrant’s broken
ranks—
Then all her bells ring clear,
And all her people cheer,
As follow on the Austrian tracks Guard, Zouave, and
Cuirassier.
xm.
Eastward they march, and round them lie their fathers’
fields of fame,
Whence seems to come hia voice who gave those fields
h r.toric name;
Castigh'one cheers them, and Lonato bids them hail,
From Medole and Areola come greetings on the gale,
Low down, where Mantua lies,
The notes of triumph rise,
And Rivoli, from yonder hills, in trumpet tone replies.
xrv.
A hill-tower looks o’er Lombardy, ’mid cypresses and
vines,
Where far to right, and far to left, extend the embattled
lines,
Among the hills King Victor lights, by Garda’s lake of
blue,
Around the tower, along the plain, the French the
charge renew.
Still the foe that ground maintains,
Crimsoned with slaughter-stains,
Such, as in all the centuries have tinged the Italian
plains.
xv.
White on the hill lie Austrian dead, blue heaps below
them lie ;
Still ring the shot, the cannons still from hill to hill
reply,
Fresh troops round Solforino sweep, fresh columns
crowd the ground—
And upward press, till Austria sees the lofty stronghold
crowned—
Then her ranks dissolve like snow,
And, in wild tumultuous flow,
Leave the fair province, regal prize, to her Sardinian
foe.
xvi.
“ What sounds of battle break iny sleep? No dream
of conflict past!
For empire, on Sadova’s field, contend those armies
vast;
When, in such stake, had Franco no part?—Not
doubtful whose the prize,
A victor drives with swift pursuit a foe that hopeless
flies,
And the Nations loud proclaim
Prussia the first in fame!
She whom 1 broke with single stroke, scarce left her
even a name!
XVII.
She who, when vengeance burst in France, the deepest
hate could boast!
Who eager chased from my last field the wrecks of my
last host 1
Shall France such rival brook?”
Ttcsponsf , makes in ao * i -md
The furnace flames, the rs. nal rings, to camp the
conscripts crowd.
Arm bared and weapon bright,
She resolute courts tho fight,
And showß the daring challenger how terrible her
might.
xvm.
France brooks no rival! Bather than in jealous doubt
remain,
She will unchain the earthquake, and let loose the
hurricane.
Europe awaits the strife that shall the ancient grief
renew—
Will victory soothe that angry Shade, and blot out
Waterloo ?
Or, across his troubled sleep
Will dreams as ominous sweep
Os his great enemy who sits enthroned amidst the
deep ?
[For the Banner of the South.]
THE CHAIR OF ST. PETER.
(CATHEDRA STI PETRI.)
In the valley, between two of the most
remarkable hills of the City of Rome,
namely, the Viminal and the Esquiline,
there were situated, at one time, the ex
tensive possessions of the Senator, Pudens.
His palace, or dwelling, stood near the
subsequent Forum Trajanum, the most
splendid of all the imperial fora which
covered the spot where now the statue of
St. Peter looks down upon the Eternal
City from the most perfect pillar of an
cient Rome. In this house, the Prince of
the Apostles had found a welcome recep
tion ; had converted the noble Senator,
together with his entire family, to the
Christian faith, and had assembled the
first fruits of bis Hock for instruction and
the celebration of the Divine mysteries.
Late archaeological researches render it
quite certain, says Cardinal Wiseman,
that this house was used, during the first
three centuries, as the unpretending
Cathedral of Rome.
The Senator’s scat of honor, his mag
isterial chair, upon which he was accus
tomed to sit during the public transaction
of business, was reverentially offered to
St. Peter, who, thenceforward, occupied
it, whenever he addressed the Faithful.
Hence is derived the old and venerable
custom of sitting down while addressing
the people, which is still observed by the
successors of St. Peter, and the other
Bishops of the Church, as a token of their
authority.
This seat, or cathedra, which was thus
used by St. Peter, is still extant, and
forms one of the oldest and most venerable
relics in the Church. It is preserved,
with the greatest care, in the chancel of
St. Peter’s Church, at Home. It is from
such chairs of honor, or cathedras, that
the churches of Bishops have received
their name of Cathedrals. But the See
of the Chief Bishop of the Church is
called the “See (or seat) of Peter,” the
“Papal See,” the “Holy See,” from that
seat of honor given to St. Peter by the
Senator, Pudens, and which has, since
then, become the symbol of the highest
authority on earth.
The chair is of wood, with small col
umns, and ornamental arches, of the
purest gold. It is built in the highest
style of ingenious workmanship. Mytho
logical figures of ivory, in half raised
work, are made to decorate the seatrouud
about. This statuary belongs, unques
tionably, to the best epoch of ancient
Homan art. In the ivory sculptures are
represented the labors of Hercules, which,
of itself, is already sufficient to guarantee
the heathen origin of this piece of furni
ture ; for, during the centuries that fol
lowed, immediately afterward, neither a
heathen myth of this kind would have
been selected as a fit subject wherewith
to embellish a Bishop’s chair, nor would
it have been possible to produce such a
perfect piece of sculpture. By means
of iron rings on the sides, through which
cross-rods may be inserted, the chair is so
arranged that it may be converted, at
will, into a sedan. Now, it is well known,
that such sedans were not introduced
among the nobility of Rome, until the
reign of the Emperor Claudius, for which
reason, Justus Lipsius remarks: “During
the reign of Augustus, I do not find the
sedan-chair as having been used, but
always the litter; while, after the reign
of Claudius, the litter was discarded, and
the sedan became universal.”
It is, therefore, likely that the Senator,
Pudens, an immensely rich patrician, as
he was, procured for his princely house
hold both the latest and most beautiful
style of furniture, when St. Peter became
his guest ; and it is, moreover, traditional
that he offered him this identical chair, as
a mark of his veneration, and that St.
Peter accepted and made use of it from
that time forward. The Senator had two
daughters, St. Pudentiana and St.
Praxedis. To them he bequeathed all
his immense wealth, which the two virgin
sisters thenceforward spent exclusively
for the relief of the poor and persecuted
Christians of their day, thereby hoping
to have a share in the martyrs’ crown.
St. Pudentiana transformed the magnifi
cent palace of her father into a Church,
which was afterwards called by her name,
and which, as we have already remarked,
was used by St. Peter and his successors,
as the chief or Cathedral Church of the
City up to the beginning of the fourth
century. About the middle of the second
century, Pop* Pius I opened a Church
in the Baths otNavatus, a near relative of
the Senator, Puden? t and dedicated it to
the name and memory 0 f St. Praxedis.
But the Church of St. con
tinued to be still the chief oi Cathedral
Church, and it was here that the venera _
ble Chair of St. Peter was preserver* as a
most curious relic.
After the conversion of Constantine to
Christianity, the Church began to enjoy
the benefit of imperial protection, and
when he erected the magnificent Basilica
of St. Salvator—the same in which he was
afterwards baptized—alongside his own
palace, the Lateran, the successors of St.
Peter transferred their See from the
Church of St. Pudentiana to the Patri
archal Church of the Lateran, and this
henceforth became the Cathedral of the
Pope, and, consequently, the first Church
of the Christian world. To this Church,
also, was transferred, at the same time,
the Chair of St. Peter, and here it re
mained until the completion of St. Peter’s,
when it was conveyed thither, and has
remained there to the present day. “It
seems,” says the late P. Carl Brandes, in
his last remarkable work, entitled “Rome
and the Popes”—“it seems almost as if
this wooden chair were destined to partake,
in a measure, of the imperishability of the
Holy See, of which it is a material
emblem. This memento of the earliest
ag*es of the Church has outlived the
vicissitudes of eighteen centuries, and has
shared the dangers to which, during that
time, Rome and the Holy See have been
exposed. The chair is still unimpaired,
but lias been enelosjd, lor the last two
hundred years, in a casing of bronze,
which stands aloft in the main chancel of
St. Peter’s. This case is surmounted by
a beautiful monument of bronze, support
ed by statues of tho four great Fathers
and Doctors of the Church, St. Athana
sius, St. Chrysostom, St. Ambrose, and
St. Augustine. The altar, which forms
the centre of the entire structure, is dedi
cated to the Blessed Virgin, and to all
the Popes that have been canonized as
Saints of the Church. A group of Angels,
surrounded by clouds, hovers, like a
crown, over a glass window, on which is
painted a representation of the Holy
Ghost, and the rays of light from which,
throw a significant illumination over the
tout ensemble. The four gigantic statues
of the Holy Fathers are each more than
16 feet high, and the weight of the entire
bronze eastings amounts to 219,16]
pounds, Roman weight, while the cost of
the shrine was no less than $172,000.
So great was the veneration of the
Christian world for this venerable chair
of their first Chief Bishop. More recent
ly, the Altar of the Shrine has undergone
a renovation, after which it was dedicated
by Pius IX, the two hundred and fifty,
eighth successor of St. Petei,the Apostle.
But the term “Chair of Peter” does
not signify among Catholics merely this
chair of wood ; it signifies, also, that
spiritual jurisdiction which Christ con
ferred upon St. Peter and his successors,
by virtue of which they were made his
visible representatives here upon earth,
and received the solemn charge to feed his
lambs and his sheep. It is against this
latter chair that the gates of hell have
now, once again, marshalled all their
forces, and against which they are at
tempting to prevail, but history and
revelation tell us their efforts will be in
vain, and God will continue in the future,
as he has done in the past, to crown his
Church with still brighter and more
numerous palms ofvictor} 7 .
[K . Kirchenzeitunrj.
fqreignlossip.
[From tlie Irishman, June 27.]
Garibaldi is again turning up and
threatening another invasion of Rome.
The Divere, of Genoa, publishes the fol
lowing characteristic letter from him:
“ Dearßovaggi : I hope to go to Rome
with you, but I fear it will be late if we
do not shut up the Priests’ shops in the
rest of Italy.”
The Tomahawk has another severe as
sault on the English (or German ?) Royal
Family this week. It is a cartoon en
titled “ Defending the Throne,” or, “The
English Joan of Arc.” The throne, which
is a great arm-chair of State, is covered
with the disused rotes of the Queen, and
on the top is the crown in a toppling con
dition. Before it stands that slightly
overpraised young matron, the Princess
of Wales, arrayed as the Maid of Orleans,
and she holds on the left arm a shield
bearing the three plumes (her husband’s
crest, as Prince of Wales,) with the motto,
“self-sacrifice,” while, with the right
hand she stretches in front of the throne
a sword marked “popularity.” By force
of these weapons she is represented as
trampling on Fenianism and discontent.
The British lion is introduced in the pic
ture, and appears to be in a very “ used
up” condition. This cartoon has created
nearly as great a sensation as the cele
brated “ Brown Study” of the same jour
nal, in which the Highland gilley was re
represented in close and not very credit]
able proximity to the empty Throne of
England.
The Exterminators are preparing for
the next campaign in Cork. The Cork
Herald says that “it has been publicly
stated that never within the memory of
the oldest practitioner in Quarter Sessions
litigation were there ever so many ejeet
*Njts in this county for trial as there
at the approaching Quarter Ses
sions. time this for the crowbar
brigade to work. The peo
ple are all so guslimgljr loyal at present
that they will tamely t>-ibmw to be* turned
out like dogs, to beg, or rot, o* starve'
The sooner the United States inu...- >re
in Mexico, and put an end to the anarchy
prevailing there, the better for the Mexi
can people. There are now in that un
happy country three distinct revolutiona
ry movements to unseat Juarez -one in
favor of Santa Anna, another in favor ul
Ortega, and a third in favor of Poriirio
Diaz. The partisans of Santa Anna are
in camp at Queretaro. Aside from these
rebellions, a dozen insurrections are pro
ceeding. We have news of the massacre
of a band of Juarists by the Indians in
Cauipeaehy —only three persons escaping
out of 700.
Take this as a sample of the maum r in
which the aristocratic incapables of the
English Admiralty economise the vast
sums which they annually wring from the
unfortunate tax-payers of England and
Ireland. The Army and Navy Gazetv
saya that the Admiralty lately effected
the sale of an old ship, out and out, tor
£2,180. The fortunate purchaser ex
tracted copper holts, &c., thereiroifl
£4,221 in value, which sum eventually
was subtracted from the British Ex
chequer “to repurchase the old store?
bearing broad arrow mark.” The officii
comfort from this transaction is that a
clear gain still accrued to the Admirah;*
of £2,180, inasmuch as the copper bolty
&c., so repurchased for £4,221, wou
fully realise that amount in the open
market. It would seem that, accord u.g
to Admiralty arithmetic, a man who hup
back a thing which he has given away, i?
as well off as he was before he p artt ' and
with it 1