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2 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